Part 2
He has no right to be here.
He knows that.
He does.
Eddie watches as people pile into the church, all of them dressed to the nines. It's a Harrington affair through and through, and the sight of all these people that he knows Steve hates makes him feel sicker than he already is.
If he wasn't on the edge of crying he would have laughed at himself, like he had any right to judge anyone here. He's the one who dumped Steve. Perfect, wonderful, lovely Steve who just needed a few more years. He just needed to make sure the kids were safe until they graduated. But Eddie couldn't do it. He needed to leave, and Steve needed to stay.
So he ended it. Just like that. He ended it.
He hasn't seen him for three years. By all appearances, it was a good choice, the best thing he could have done for himself. Because against all fucking odds Eddie Munson ends up as a success. He's a star, a famous musician discovered in a shitty little bar. He somehow managed to actually live the dream he used to fantasize about.
He lives it up. He parties, he drinks, he fucks, he spends his early twenties being young and dumb like he always wanted.
And it's horrible. It's so horrible that it becomes hilarious to him. Because he knows why it's so bad. Of course he knows. But it's better this way, really. Because Steve deserved better than him anyway. He deserved someone he didn't run away, full of flimsy excuses of wanting to be out of the shitty town that made him. When the truth was he was scared. He was terrified about how much he loved him. Because what was he going to do when the day came when Steve realized he could do better?
Eddie wouldn't have been able to surivie it. So he left instead. Like the coward he was. He left so he could be miserable and famous but at least Steve could finally find someone who deserved him.
So it really was all for the best. That's what he tells himself, because if he doesn't he'd go insane wondering about what could have been. He has himself convinced that he made the right choice. Maybe not for himself, but at least for Steve.
He doesn't realize how bullshit all of that was until Dustin lets it slip. They're doing the normal routine. Dustin visits, Eddie spoils the shit out of him, and on the last day he asks about Steve. He always tries to keep it casual. Tries to never let his desperation to know what's happening shine through. But it always does, bad enough that Dustin can't help the pity in his eyes when he tells him.
Steve's getting married.
Eddie wasn't aware just how much words could hurt him until that moment. He'd been called every bad name under the sun, a queer, a freak, a fag, you name it and it's been said. But this is the first time someone else's words make him feel like he's dying.
He wasn't invited to the wedding. Why would he be? But he still found it. Because he's a glutton for self-punishment. He hadn't seen Steve for three fucking years, and he chooses to wait till his wedding day?
But it's too late for regret, he's already here. His eyes keep scanning the room, just waiting for him to show up. He probably looks like a creep, dressed in all black and fucking sunglasses, sitting right by the door. He's basically in a fucking disguise, mostly to stop Robin from finding him and kicking his ass.
Speaking of, his eyes widen at the sight of her. She's slipping out of a door to the side, quickly wiping at her eyes before joining the crowd of people. His eyes drift back to the door.
Eddie's on his feet before he knows what he's doing. It's stupid, maybe the stupidest thing he's ever done, but where Robin is, Steve is sure to follow.
And he's right. It leads to a small dressing room. And there he is. Just like that Eddie's in front of the only man he'll ever love. Or at least, behind him. They were alone, and Steve hadn't even noticed him yet, too busy adjusting his hair in the mirror.
He still has time to leave. Besides, he didn't come here to ruin everything. He didn't, really.
But he doesn't turn around. Instead, Eddie locks the door behind him. He takes off his stupid sunglasses and clears his throat to speak, but is immediately rendered speechless when Steve turns to look at him.
He's just as gorgeous as he remembered.
His eyes widened at the sight of him, mouth opening and closing like he can't quite believe what he's seeing. Why would he? Eddie never reached out. He ignored the times that Steve did, always too ashamed of himself to face his own mistakes.
Eddie always expected Steve to lash out when he saw him, if he saw him. Lord knows he deserved it. But he doesn't. He just looks...sad. And those basset hound eyes are almost enough to bring Eddie to tears himself.
"What are you doing here?" Steve asked, voice quiet.
Eddie hadn't actually prepared anything to say. His plan was to watch the love of his life marry someone else than drink himself into a stupor at his hotel. He...he hadn't expected to end up here. But there are a million things he wants to say to him.
I'm here to tell you I'm sorry. I'm sorry I was a coward. I'm sorry I wasn't good enough and I made it your problem. I haven't stopped thinking about you. Ever. There hasn't been a day that goes by when I don't regret leaving. And I thought, maybe, just maybe if I saw you move on with my own eyes I could let you go.
But none of that is what comes out of his mouth.
"Run away with me."
If Steve didn't look shocked to see him before he sure did now, "W-What?"
"Run away with me," He repeats. Because it's what he wants. It's what he needs. It's been three years of hell without him and Eddie can't do it anymore. He can't.
He hates that he's the cause of the tears springing up in Steve's eyes, but he can't take it back. He won't.
Steve looks away, eyes trained on the floor, "You can't do this to me Eddie. You can't."
But he is.
Eddie's made his choice. He was a fool to think he was capable of coming here without trying to steal him away. Of course this is where he'd end up. And he'll say anything to get him back. He doesn't care that he's too late. He doesn't care that this whole thing makes him a bigger piece of shit than he already was.
He'll be underhanded, he'll be dirty, he'll do anything to get Steve to leave with him, he doesn't fucking care. Because Steve Harrington is not going to get married today.
He waltzes right up to him. He grabs his chin and forces him to meet his eyes. He probably looks crazy, he feels crazy, "You don't love her like you love me."
He's never met her. He doesn't need to. The way Steve freezes up is all he needs to know that he's right.
He doesn't deny it, but he deflects, "Why are you doing this? You left me. Did you forget that part? I didn't end it. You did! A-And now what? We're just going to ride off into the sunset together? Like you weren't the one to just cut me out of your life-"
"Yes," Eddie interrupts. He feels calm, eerily so as he speaks, "We're riding off into the sunset together. Even though I don't deserve it. I never deserved you. And I was so fucking scared of when you would realize that. I let it eat away at me. So I left. Before you could do it to me. And I was wrong."
"Stop," Steve tries to step back, but Eddie won't let him. He wraps an arm around his waist and pulls him close.
He can't stop talking, even if he wanted to, "I was so wrong Steve. And I've been miserable ever since. Because I couldn't stop thinking about you. I'll never stop thinking about you. Even if you tell me to go to hell and get hitched I'll just wait for a divorce. Because you are the only one for me. And it took me too long to say that out loud. And I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry Stevie."
Steve weakly tried to push him away, but his heart wasn't in it, "Please stop."
But he can't, "I love you."
Steve's eyes are closed, a futile attempt to keep the tears at bay, but his voice comes out strong, "Eddie, I-I can't do this again. I can't. If you left me again I...I just can't."
Eddie can't help but wipe a few of the tears away for him, "Angel, look at me."
He waits for Steve to open his eyes. He looks so fucking beautiful that it hurts, especially since this may really be the last time he sees him again.
But he has one more trick up his sleeve, "Tell me you're not mine and I'll leave."
"W-what?"
"Tell me you're not mine. Say the words out loud and I'll let you go."
Steve stares at him. He's mad, beyond pissed that Eddie has the audacity to throw that in his face, but he's desperate. It was the last thing he said to him, murmured through the driver's side window of the van, seconds before he drove away.
I'm still yours, even if you don't want me anymore.
Eddie had cried the entire ride there after hearing that. And then a few days after for good measure. And here he is, completely ruthless at what he's willing to pull out, "You're mine Steve. You know you're mine."
It's such a fucked up thing to say, but it's true. But it's not the whole truth, "And I'm yours. I've always been yours. Tell me that's not true and I'll leave."
But Steve can't. He can't do it, just like Eddie had known he wouldn't. But what he hadn't expected was for him to surge up and kiss him.
It feels like he fell in love all over again, just from one simple kiss. Because it felt like magic was real and it decided to take on the form of Steve Harrington's lips. It was everything he had missed. Everything he had dreamed about. Eddie tangled a hand into his hair, helpless to do anything but kiss him back, harder and deeper. He wanted to be burned into Steve's memory for all eternity. He wanted him to always remember the moment that they came back to each other.
Because that's what this is. Eddie's certain, Steve was his, and he would never let him go again.
They only stop when there is a knock at the door, a muffled question asked that they can't hear over the sounds of their own breathing. It's enough to have them pulling away from each other, but they ignore it nonetheless.
Steve searches his face, one last test. Eddie can only guess how he looks right now, probably just as desperate and terribly hopeful as he felt. Whatever he's looking for, he finds it eventually.
Steve sighs, glancing toward the back of the room, "There's a window we can probably fit through. Because I'm sure as hell not going out there."
Now it's Eddie's turn to cry. Despite all of his confidence, the certainty that they were supposed to be together, he hadn't really expected it to work. But here they were, giggling with each other as they scurried out of a first-floor window, making a run for Eddie's car.
Eddie can't help but kiss him again before they get in, muttering against his mouth, "I love you so fucking much Stevie. I'm not going to fuck this up again. You won't regret it, I'll spend the rest of my life making sure you don't."
Steve grinned into the kiss, "You better."
There was still so much to talk about. Too much. And they'll fight and they'll scream and everything will get worse before it gets better. And Eddie's so fucking grateful to get the chance.
And for the first time in three years, he feels alive again.
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Gojo gets so drunk off of you whenever you ride him. You think it’s because he’s spoiled, he says he just loves you a lot.
It’s something about being able to lay back, watch how your hips roll against his, how your clit rubs against the white pubes at his base, how your chest heaves with every moan. The way your hands never know what to do with themselves, gripping his shoulders and chest before gripping your own, touching yourself between your legs, holding his cock at the base whenever it slips out.
He feels intoxicated every time you get on top. The only downside about it is—is he can’t really control himself, either. If he doesn’t hold your hips down and take over, then he’s trying to ward off a too early orgasm. Gojo can’t help it, really, everything about you is just so addicting.
Like now—your mouth is pressed against his, your hands are tangled in his hair, your hips slowly grind against his own. It hasn’t even been long enough for that familiar feeling to twist in his lower stomach, for his balls to twitch so soon. His warm hands try to pull you off of him, but you pull them away from your skin, instead pinning them on the headboard beside his head.
“Oh, cmon,” Gojo whines, albeit playfully despite the concerning way his cock begins to throb inside of you. You shake your head at him, lids lowering as you focus on grinding against him, his cock nudging something soft inside of you to make you moan.
“Lemme take over, so you don’t have to do all the hard work.” Gojo pleads, bottom lip pouting at you. But you ignore it, leaning forward to instead nip at his lip, squeezing his wrists in your hands. He could break away from you easily, but it’s something about the control you’re exerting over him that makes his tip leaky.
“Shut up,” you huff softly, hips starting to pick up pace. Gojo twists a little underneath you, biting at his bottom lip as he tries to stave off his oncoming orgasm.
“Baby—“
“I’m not fucking finished with you, so just sit back and take it.” You bite at him, eyebrow screwing up as you try to angle your hips to get some friction against your clit, hands squeezing his wrists tightly. You glare up at him from under your lashes, and Gojo, the slut, has a moment of awakening when you lock eyes.
He cums almost instantly, with a punched out sound emitting from his throat, head thrown back as he gasps out your name. His cock kicks and spurts inside of you, filling you up to the brim and you can only moan at the warming feeling of it. Gojo is loud with every rope inside of you, bright eyes falling closed behind his lids as he leans forward to rest his head on your shoulder.
He catches his breath after a few seconds, and speaks against your sweaty skin.
“Think I might’ve discovered something about myself.” He whispers, circling your waist when you release him to pull you in closer to him, making you both hiss.
“That was nothing new for you, Satoru.” You sigh softly into his hair. He laughs at that, and doesn’t deny it. He thinks he might be more transparent than he realized.
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