#madaboutmunsonSHC

[madaboutmunson]

Sweet Home Chicago Series - Stupid Cupid (Part 1)

Summary for overview of the whole fic can be found here

For @eddiemonth Week 1 prompts used Parents, Observant, Bad Reputation - Joan Jett & The Blackhearts, Lost, Role Model, Crush, Warm Warnings: None that I could think of, but let me know if you feel any should be added, and I'll do that straight away :) Romance/Fluff Word Count : 13K Ao3 Link

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1959 Little Italy, Chicago

Eddie arrives at night, and unlike Hawkins, this place is still bustling. He can only imagine what it might be like tomorrow. Alive, vibrant and diverse. Everything back home wasn't. Wayne has driven him all the way here. Even though he said several times he had the money and was fine taking the bus alone, his uncle didn't want to hear it. Besides, it would be an excellent opportunity to catch up with Eddie’s Mom.

Eddie knew this was a half-truth. Wayne was a worrier, even though it cost him time and money for gas and food at rest stops. It at least meant that he knew Eddie was safe. It did give him a chance to catch up with his Mom, but this wouldn’t be a chit-chat. Wayne didn’t mean to be judgemental, but Eddie knew he wanted to check the place out, make sure his Mom was okay, and that Eddie would be OK here.

Eddie was eighteen now, a man. He’d often told Wayne he didn’t need him protecting him and his mother henning around him. But he knew that was a lie, too. Eddie was too different to not run into trouble, and they both knew that, even if Eddie had set his mind to starting over and being someone brand new in a place where he had a clean slate. He didn't have to be the loud, weird, bad kid here. He could be the quiet, unassuming budding author, and people would like him for that, not be put off by his previous self. 

Eddie was evolving. He could use this place to settle in and to mault. Rid himself of his disfunctions become healthy and normal. That's how you get ahead in life. An easy life.

He was so nervous. It had been some time since he’d seen his mom in person, though they generally stayed in touch with occasional phone calls, letters or parcels. In the last ten years since she left, maybe five Christmases and three birthdays. But she always called him.

Since he’d hit his teens, Wayne had little to discuss with his mom that Eddie couldn't communicate himself, other than the bad stuff that Eddie always conveniently left out.

Eddie had been a good kid. He just had a less-than-ideal start in life. His father was in and out of life more often than the changes of school term. There was no nice way of saying it. His dad was a criminal. Specifically a conman. His specialities lay in being charming, blending in and rustling up disguises out of basically nothing. Maybe if he had chosen the right path when he hit that fork in the road of life, he could have been a phenomenal actor. He easily imitated voices, sounds, and mannerisms, effortlessly embodying characters like donning or doffing his hat. Which made the rare bedtime stories he told masterpiece performances.

From what Eddie can recall of his parents' relationship, it was very loving, but they seemed to be stuck in the cycle of teenage love and angst over and over. One day, they would be dancing around the kitchen, gazing at one another across the table, hardly touching their food at all, or curled up on the sofa together like two love-sick kids. But the next could be a complete warzone, arguments over the same things, either his dad’s risky next job or his mom’s failure to keep a steady one. Maybe none of that would have been a problem for the two of them, but when the third part of that equation was a young, hyperactive, attention-starved, anxiety-riddled son, it just fueled the fire.

His Mom and Dad never called him a mistake, and they did give him the love they could spare, but they were very young, and Eddie came along before they’d even caught a glimpse of the vague edge of their dreams. Neither of them had great relationships with their parents. His Dad’s were distant. Disowned him for his sinful way of life, being the god-fearing people they were. His Mom doesn't even remember her mom, she only remembers her Dad, who was essentially her best friend her whole life until the Munsons muscled into the scene, and he wanted better for her. When they ran away to get married against everyone’s advice, it broke her Dad’s heart, and they never spoke in person again. Eddie guesses it made sense they would cling to one another when they must have felt like flotsam just bobbing about in the world, lost and alone.

Eddie’s dad, criminally charming as he was, never strayed from his mom. Never looked at another woman twice. His dad said that was because he had never met a girl like his mom before in his life. 

When the Munson’s arrived in Indiana, it was tough. Tougher for outsiders. That was just the way Hawkins always was. Tough as old boots. But thankfully, the Munsons lucked out because the nearest house to theirs was owned by a kind, neighbourly mechanic Widower with an only daughter.

Eddie loved hearing how his Dad’s voice would change when he remembered his mom from their youth. He, his mom and Wayne became fast friends, roaming around Hawkins together. A happy outsider trio, going on adventures, star and cloud gazing together, cannonballing into the lake. He’d recall his mom, Esmerelda, or Em as he liked to call her, was not only fun, but she could shoot better than any he knew. She would have made a great sniper. Plus, she could strip and reassemble a car engine in record time. Only sported a dress for church on Sundays. The rest of her time, she wore pants, a shirt and braces like the rest. Though usually covered with a streak of engine oil, dirt or flour. The cherry on top was just how beautiful she was. Big, piercing green eyes and long, luscious dark waves of hair that bounced around her face as she outran them both through the fields playing tag.

The three of them were thick as thieves, but as they moved into their teens, Al started to peel off into the more real dangerous side of things, which got him kicked out, and that left his Mom and Wayne, still reading stories, and letting their imaginations run riot in the skies above them at the lakeside, or inventing future dream lives for themselves on the tire swing at the Munson’s.

But the day finally came when Al got brought home by the sheriff himself. They banned him from town, so he was plunged back into Wayne and his Mom’s life with a thump. His parents wanted nothing to do with him, so his Mom’s father let him stay in a barn on his land. Though the three spent most of their days together as kids, Al seeing Esmerelda in her everyday home life enabled him to see more sides of her. Not just showing off, being goofy or tough, but kind, careful, generous, and protective. That's when he realised it wasn’t just the friendship he felt for her and decided he should do something about it. So one night, he sent Wayne back to the house for some sodas, which Wayne argued with him over, didn’t want to do at all, nearly ruined the moment, and as soon as he was out of sight. Al made his move. Shuffled closer on a hay bale and kissed her on the cheek, and as he liked to say, the rest is history.

Then he’d turn to Eddie and say, “One day, Eddie, you’re gonna meet a girl, and Cupid is gonna line you up in his sights and pow, it’ll be over for you.” Eddie would be so scared, his dad would chuckle and pull him into his lap, “I’m sorry, son, it’s not that scary, but you’ve got the genes of your mom and me. You’re a hopeless romantic on both sides, but that just means you’ll find your one easily,” he’d tap him on the chest, “Your heart is so full of love it’s gonna shine so bright for them, they’ll see it from miles away.”

Eddie didn’t realise at the time how dysfunctional his family was. When they weren’t arguing, they had the most fun together, but some of the things he thought were games weren’t that at all. They would play the weeks-long hide-and-seek game with his dad, but Eddie mustn’t tell anyone else about it. Otherwise, the game would be over. The scavenger hunts that either they would lay out for his Dad or he and his mom would follow, the prizes always being wads of cash. Or the big box of dress up he and his mom sometimes had to rifle through and take outfits to his dad so he could play too. That was the last game he remembered them playing together.

His dad had told Eddie and his mom that he’d had a vision about work, how something might go wrong. So they were to meet him at a gas station to play pretend. Though Eddie was excited, he couldn’t figure out why his mom was so upset.

His mom had made new outfits, especially for the occasion: a priest, a nun and a choirboy. They parked around the back of the building, already in their costumes, and waited for hours. Until there was a screech of tires, the sounds of yelling and running. His mom had grabbed the brown paper bag and Eddie and ran from the car to the outdoor toilet, and they hid behind the wall. In seconds, his dad appeared with a massive smile on his face, “Look at you, my angels.” he laughed, grabbed the bag, and kissed his mom before disappearing into the toilet.

More cars were pulling up, but there was more yelling and slamming. He even heard someone shouting bad things about his dad until his mom covered his ears with her hands and pulled silly faces at him until he smiled.

Then came the sirens and gunshots. Eddie remembers being so scared until his dad reappeared, “Hey buddy, it’s ok. We’re gonna pretend we’re going to church now. So just put your hands together like when you say your prayers, close your eyes, and we’ll be on our way before you know it.” He beamed a huge toothy grin at him. Eddie could see dark grease in his hair. It almost made it look jet-black. Eddie did as he was told, the other noises continued, but he kept walking until someone lifted him into his seat.

That was the last time he saw his dad. Heard from him a few times and got a couple of things through the post, birthday and Christmas gifts, usually a few months late, but as Wayne would remind him, it’s the thought that counted.

There is something strange in the space between them in the car as they pull up outside the address she’d given them. All the buildings crowded around one another, and looming over them felt like a stark contrast to the feeling within the vehicle.

Wayne kills the engine, “Ed, if you ain’t sure bout this, it’s no trouble at all to drive ya home. I’m going back anyway.” He speaks the words up at the large building.

Eddie does actually think about it, the fear of the unknown creeping up his spine. Then he looks at Wayne. He looks tired, “Yeah,” he replies, trying to hide the crack in his voice, “I’m sure. A fresh start somewhere new, I can be someone else.” He looks up into the night sky as if asking the stars to make it so.

He feels his uncle’s hand on his shoulder, “Eddie,” Wayne’s voice is quiet and full of a soft sadness, “You ain’t gotta be no one else. There ain’t nothin’ wrong with ya. You were just a kid whose life was flipped around. You did the best ya could, son.” Wayne's soulful eyes shine in the darkness.

“I coulda been less trouble,” Eddie says with a sweet half-smile to try and lessen the weight of this conversation, “I coulda been good, made things easier for myself. Coulda not had the sheriff and neighbours knocking at your door.”

“Our door,” Wayne adds and shakes his head, with a huff of acceptance, “Kid, I just want ya to know, I’d take a hundred knocks on our door at any hour, as long as you were there with them. Safe. At home,” Wayne adds, he turns away from Eddie and looks out the window, “The only good thing I ever heard about this city, Ed, was that your mama done well for herself. Everything else was bad news.”

“Uncle Wayne,” Eddie says cautiously, but the word uncle makes Wayne’s head snap towards him. He’d been calling him Wayne mostly, but when he was little, sick or upset, he used uncle as a small plea for his comfort and support. “I came here to start over. I’m not interested in getting into trouble, joining greaser gangs, or getting into drink or drugs. I just want a chance to see more. Experience more without a brand on my forehead telling everyone I'm different. In Hawkins, I stick out, here there are so many differences no one is gonna notice lil’ ol’ me,” he smiles fondly at his uncle, “I'm gonna write a book and illustrate it, and when I make my fortune. I'm gonna come get you outta Hawkins, and me, you, mama, and pa are gonna live somewhere so grand.” His dreams widen his smile at Wayne, who offers a slight shrug of a smile back.

“Well, I ain’t never been one to stand in the way of anyone's dreams, so I reckon we better get up there before your mama falls fast asleep,” Wayne gets out of the car and gets Eddie’s cases.

Eddie shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath before opening the door and stepping out into Chicago. 

He inhales deeply again, letting the city saturate his lungs, with all its good and bad. The buildings around here were so vast and gigantic that it made him feel small, but for once, that felt good. He grins up at the lights still flooding the night, some from apartments and restaurants, some from cars driving by, and the faint sound of jazz on the wind whips around the place. 

He walks around and takes the cases from Wayne, “I got this old timer,” which puts a genuine smile on Wayne’s face as they make their way to the large brick building.

He could clearly see three floors from the sidewalk, though, on approach, it looked like there might be an attic right at the top and a basement down below. On one side of the building was a set of hard stone steps that bypassed the apartment at street level and went up to the main middle floor he could see.

Eddie halts at the two big main doors like this threshold will tear him asunder, let him leave the old bad boy Eddie behind, and only leave behind the good. He sets down one case, but his hand shakes as he reaches for the handle. Soon, he feels Wayne’s hand on his shoulder again. He turns to look at him, “You got nothing to lose. Home isn’t going anywhere. You can always come back,” Wayne smiles warmly at him, and Eddie takes hold of the handle and opens the door. As he steps into the cold, tiled hallway, he feels the warmth of Wayne’s hand leave him. As he turns, he finds his uncle neatening himself up, Straightening his tie, smoothing down his jacket, and rearranging the flowers in his hand, which were starting to look a little sorry for themselves.

Eddie looks at the numbers on the doors, and it seems they have another floor to get to his mom’s place. Eddie notices on the group of mailboxes as they pass that she hasn’t opted to change her surname, and something about that makes him feel good. Despite their distance and his dad's behaviour, it wasn’t so bad she needed to cut them off entirely.

As they reach the door of her apartment, Eddie’s anxiety takes full hold, he feels his breathing shudder, and the muscles in his back burn with a new tension. He thumbs at the ring on his finger that was a going-away gift from Wayne. He’d found it in a hide on a hunt the day after Eddie told him he wanted to leave and said he thought it was a sign. It was a simple silver signet ring that Eddie had to tape up to fit his slender fingers. He kept it on his index finger so his thumb could easily reach it. The repetitive movement, who gave it to him and the gift sentiment all helped bring him back down to earth a little. He’d been using it the whole way here.

“You know what could be fun? If she sees me first, then I step aside to reveal you? Lord knows I won’t get a word in once she’s got holda ya,” Wayne beams at him, and Eddie nods, in the full knowledge Wayne was gonna take this first step for him.

When Wayne had offered to take care of Eddie, it had been because he’d been left at his grandparents for a spell whilst his mom found her footing in the city. Eddie’s grandparents were the first people he met who branded him bad simply because he was energetic and was born of two delinquents, as they called them. Wayne had told his mom, who moved Eddie to her Dad’s, and everything was fine until he started getting sick. So Wayne worked on vehicles with his Mom’s father, cared for him and Eddie and never complained. Eddie couldn’t be that good, not as good as Christian as Wayne, but he tried. He was kind to people and animals, said his prayers, and helped around the house, but school and that kind of life were too restrictive for his imagination. Wayne plied him with fantasy books and art supplies, and they worked for a while until the differences started showing.

He was supposed to like cowboys, not knights. He was supposed to play soldiers, not sorcerors. 

His Mom came back for his grandpa’s funeral but didn’t stay. She took money and trinkets and left the house, land, and everything else for him and Wayne. That’s how it had been for the last ten years. Just him and Wayne in his Mom’s old house.

The combination of grief and being in opposition with his peers had sparked a rebellion within Eddie. He was supposed to like pop music and country, not blues and rock’n’roll. He was supposed to wear his hair short, but he preferred it longer. He should have had a pick-up. He had a motorcycle. He was a one-man gang for a while, glaring at anyone who gave him a second look, spooking locals with sinister tales until he was othered because he wanted to be. Then, a few others flocked to him, and he had his own mini band of brothers. But they got out of control. It took a few sheriff visits and a near fire to reign Eddie back in and ultimately sparked this decision to move.

Wayne knocks gently on the door, the bouquet of flowers held in front of him more like a shield than a gift. The other hand behind his back reaches for Eddie’s arm. 

“Yeah?” A deep, booming voice rings out from behind the door.

“Uh, apologies, we’re looking for Ms, um, Mrs Munson. Must have the wrong place,” Eddie hears the slight tremble in Wayne’s voice and feels his hand grip his arm tighter.

The metallic sound of latches being hurriedly undone fills the hallway, the increase in speed matching Eddie’s heartbeat, until the door is wrenched open and Eddie sucks in a breath in anticipation, but with Wayne in front of him, Eddie doesn't see much at first.

“Wayne!” An excited voice calls out before she leaps into a bear hug squeeze, and Eddie laughs when he hears the faint crunch of the flowers.

“He came?” He hears his mom say in disbelief as Wayne is shoved to the side, and there she is. Older but more beautiful than he remembers.

She’s a small woman, a smirk in the place of a smile, but it radiates joy all the same. On top of her head, her jet black curls are piled on top of one another in an untamed bun, a scarf is neatly folded into a headband of sorts and tied around her head, at the top in a small bow, from under which a set of shorter curls spill out and frame her emerald eyes, rounded nose and delicate jawline.

Her hands reach forward and grab Eddie’s face, and she plants kisses on his cheeks, too many for him to count, leaving them both giggling as she moves her rough hands away and steps back again to get a good look at him, “Oh sweetheart, look at you! You look so grown up with your little suit on,” Her hand raises to her mouth, and Eddie thinks he can see the start of tears brimming, but she quickly averts her eyes to Wayne and waves them inside, “Come in. Come in. I’ll, um, show you to your room so you can drop your bags in,” As she shuts the door behind them, her arm braces around Eddie’s shoulders and pulls him in for a side hug, “I can’t believe you’re finally here sweetie, oh my goodness you are gonna love it. Sorry everywhere is a little empty, I um, I only just moved into this apartment from upstairs. Here we are,” she says excitedly, then stops, gives him another squeeze, and gestures into a plain looking room.

The wooden floor is adorned with a mishmash of rugs, there is a single metal framed bed, a desk which he can see has been stocked with stationary, a full-length mirror attached to a tall wardrobe, and next to a tall chest of drawers, on top of which sits a record player.

“I didn't wanna do too much. This is your room, so you can decorate it as you like, and I can get rid of anything you don't want or like, don't worry about that. Just wanted you to have what I figured might be essentials.” She releases him and opens up the wardrobe, “I got you a set of towels, and um,” she moves over to the chest of drawers, “Some new socks and underwear. I hope I got the size right. I did try to remember the numbers your uncle gave me,” she smiles, and Eddie begins to see how nervous she is.

“Wow, it's so great. Thank you, Mama, I mean, Mom,” Eddie corrects himself, trying to sound a little more grown up. He puts his cases down by his bed and almost removes his hat before looking nervously at Wayne and then his mom.

“What's wrong, sweetheart?” She asks, a little worried, looking between Eddie and Wayne.

“Who else is here?” Eddie asks quietly.

His mom looks at him quizzically, “No one, sweetie. It's just us.”

“But the voice at the door,” he says, pointing back to the hallway.

“Ohhhh,” his Mom says in realisation, cups her hands to her mouth and booms out, “You mean this voice?”

Eddie's shoulders relax, and he nods and laughs, shaking his head.

“Is that what you were worried about, honey?” She asks again, but Eddie shakes his head, unable to find the words.

“Emmie,” Wayne starts and looks at Eddie with a reassuring smile, “The boy doesn't much like the barbers.”

Her worry fades, and she smiles mischievously, gesturing at her hair, “Me neither.”

Eddie carefully removes his bakerboy-style hat that hid his hair and takes the clips out so that his dark waves of hair fall around his face. It’s not long like his mom’s, but it's long enough to reach the top of his shoulders.

His mom lets out a tiny squeal of delight, “Oh my goodness, you look like a little angel. Sorry, I mean, your hair looks very handsome on you, Eddie.”

“I like it this way, but I know it's not what others like. So I keep it tucked away.” Eddie advises.

“Well, no need to do that here, sweetheart,” she beams at him and takes down her hair. This is our home, and you can be yourself here, ok? You’re whole true self,” her eyes dart to Wayne nervously and back to Eddie, “I mean, your Chicago home, you know. Not like your home-home.” She laughs awkwardly, “You know what? I’ll rustle us up a quick supper and leave you boys to it.”

Eddie busies himself unpacking, and Wayne doesn’t speak until his mom’s footsteps fade away. He strolls around the room and looks out of the window, out onto the city.

“Nice view,” he says.

Eddie snorts out a laugh, “Say what you really wanna say, Wayne.”

Wayne turns around and starts picking up the clothes Eddie is laying on the bed and transferring them to the wardrobe hangers or drawers for him, “Just promise me if you wanna come home, you’ll call, ok? Don’t matter the time. I’ll come get ya as soon as I can. It ain’t no failing just ‘cus a place is too much for ya. It’s a big change, Ed, and you ain’t like ya mama. She’s like a damn rubber ball the way she bounces back from every knockdown.”

“I promise,” Eddie smiles at Wayne’s protectiveness, “Maybe you can’t see it, but maybe in a bigger place, I won’t stick out so much? I’ll stand a better chance slipping under the radar here than I did in Hawkins.” 

Wayne hums in that grumbly fashion he does when he knows he has to agree with Eddie but doesn’t want to.

“Let me just try, and I promise, I won’t hesitate to call if things start to go wrong,” Eddie reassures him.

Wayne tilts his head into view to receive the last of his knitted jumpers, “Even if that’s tomorrow?”

Eddie rolls his eyes and laughs, “Even if that’s tomorrow.” 

Once all the clothes are away, they sit together around the kitchen table and demolish the plate of sandwiches between them. Eye-opening stories for each of them, some about baby Eddie, some about his mom and Wayne’s adventures, some tales from Wayne about older Eddie’s misadventures, and even some about his Mom starting out in the city. They laugh and share fond smiles until his Mom lets out a yawn, “I’m so sorry, I’ve been up since five this morning,”

“Sorry, Darlin’, I didn't realise the time. I should get goin’,” Wayne says as his eyes nervously dart to Eddie before focusing back on cleaning away the dishes.

“Now, Wayne, you haven't gotta do that, it’s fine!” “I won’t hear non’ a that. You made the food. I can sort the dishes before I head off,” Wayne says, collecting the plates.

Eddie watches his Mom play nervously with the hem of her shirt, “You know, Wayne, it’s kinda late. You could stay if you want to? I’ve got a camp bed or the sofa. You can take my room,”

“Absolutely not! It's Eddie’s first day in the city tomorrow, and he don’t need a shadow. Needs to make his own way,” Wayne says, clearing his throat afterwards.

Eddie feels that familiar nervous swirling in his stomach as he realises he hadn't spent more than the occasional sleepover or overnight camping trip away from Wayne in the last ten years. 

This was really it.

Suddenly, he felt lost, like he was drifting away from his mooring into the unchartered waters. Nausea was a very real and present sensation. Eddie quickly gets out of his seat to help Wayne with the dishes. He stands shoulder to shoulder with him, sending him an occasional smile while humming one of Wayne’s favourite songs.

Before they know it, the dishes are done, and all that is left is goodbye.

“Don’t wave me off. Stay up here, get a cocoa in ya, and off to bed. That's an order for both of ya,” Wayne tries to joke, but Eddie can hear a slight tremble in his voice, “So um, if anything, call me, ok, doesn’t matter what it is, like I said-”

Eddie pulls him in tight for a tight squeeze as he bites back his tears against Wayne’s shoulder, “Gonna miss you,” Is all Eddie can manage.

“I’m gonna miss you like crazy, son.” He squeezes him back harder, “And speaks into his hair, “And if anything happens to you out here, you have my solemn vow, I’ll raze Hawkins to the ground, cus it’s that stupid fuckin’ town that took you away. I’ll give them hell until the end of my days.” 

“He’s gonna be ok, Wayne. I promise,” Eddie hears his mom attempt to reassure him.

His uncle squeezes him tightly one more time, pats him on the shoulders, and moves back to look at him, tears in both their eyes. Wayne swallows and wipes his eyes before turning to his mom, “Emmie, it was good to see ya. Uh. See ya later, Ed,” he says, shakes his hand, nods his goodbye to him, and leaves.

Eddie rushes to the window of his room. In the dark, he finally lets his tears fall as he watches his weeping uncle drive away.

“Gotcha, that cocoa, you’re uncle suggested, pretty plain, I’m afraid. Tomorrow, I’ll pick up some marshmallows.” he hears her set the mugs down, “May I?” She asks, and Eddie only weakly nods as he finds himself crying in his mother's arms for the first time in eleven years.

Eddie didn’t sleep well that night; he was not used to the noise, and his worries wouldn’t let him rest even if it were as quiet as back home.

He lays awake in bed, waiting to hear his Mom get up. He checks his watch, gives her five minutes, and then joins her.

“Morning Sweetheart, want some coffee?” He hears her call out as he walks to the bathroom.

“Yeah, that would be great, thank you,” he rolls his eyes a little at himself at how formal he’s being, but he’s just trying to be polite.

He makes his way to the kitchen and finds not just a coffee but a plate of scrambled eggs, too.

“You still like eggs, right?” She asks with an awkward smile.

Eddie nods happily, “Yeah. I do. Thank you.” He tucks his pajamaed self in by shuffling his chair forward with a squeak against the floor, and he instinctively winces, “Sorry.” He glances slightly up at her from the corner of his eye. She’s probably regretting this already.

She moves from the counter and sits beside him, “Hey, you didn't do anything wrong. You’re fine, honestly.” He raises his eyes to her piercing green ones, and she gives him that sweet smile of hers, “Listen, sweetheart, I get we don’t know one another too well. That’s on me. I love you, always have, and always will. Even though maybe I didn’t show it in all the ways a mother should,” she cautiously reaches her hand over his, and he pushes his hand into hers, “But I want to get to know you, as you are. Wayne filled me in on a lot, and I just want to repeat, this is our, um, Chicago home, right? And behind this door, you are one hundred per cent okay to be one hundred per cent yourself, even if you can’t do it out there. I know I can’t.”

“You can’t?” Eddie says, and he realises his voice sounds small, unlike the eighteen-year-old man he’s supposed to be.

“No way. Are you kidding me?” she laughs, “I’ve built myself from nothing here. I can do the jobs I wanna do. Manual work that doesn’t involve putting on a full face of makeup or putting up with sleazy guys. Sorry, too much. Uh. What I’m trying to say is if I acted my true, daydreaming, singing, ditzy self out there, even though I do every job I take on extremely well, no one would take me seriously. I wouldn’t be a person to call for people that live around here. I wouldn’t have been trusted to take on maintenance for this building and get this bigger apartment,” she squeezes his arm and softens her voice, “but when I step through that door. I drop all those masks. I’d go crazy if I didn’t,” she smiles at him, “and I don’t need a crazy man in my home. So just be yourself, sweetheart. Wayne has filled me in on some things you’re dealing with, but I won’t make you talk about them unless you want to. I know you want a fresh start. Just like I did when I got here, I want this home to be your springboard to your dreams, Eddie. Everyone deserves to try.”

Something about that sets Eddie more at ease, “Got it, M-mom,” he corrects, and she raises an eyebrow at him, “Mama.” He says with a happy smile, and she nods.

“Better?” She asks.

“Yeah,” he says as he moves his hand on top of hers and squeezes it, kissing her on the cheek, “Tons better,” he says, picking up his cutlery to eat. Against his better judgement, he eats exactly as he would at home, pretty much inhaling the food on the plate, as his Mom laughs and gets up to pour another coffee for herself.

“So I got a few jobs to do today. I know you said you didn’t want me chaperoning and wanted to discover the place for yourself, but I also promised Wayne I’d keep you safe, and obviously, I want that, too. So, I thought maybe you could do some shopping for me, stick to the area. I’ve even put the names of the stores down for you. When you’re done, if you want to roam around, don’t stray too far from Taylor Street, ok. That’s the kind of hub of this area, and it’s the community I know,”

“Yeah, I read about that. Is it just all Italians ‘round here then? Because of the name,” Eddie asks, finishing his last mouthful and picking up his coffee.

“No, not really. There are people from all over. Well, at one point in their family tree, but most of the people your age around here are born and bred in Chicago. It’s fascinating, really. You’re gonna have tons more things to inspire you here,” She smiles and pushes him over a piece of note paper with some money, “Feel free to grab yourself some lunch out of that too. Keep the change for yourself. Don’t wanna deprive my little wordsmith of anything,” She smiles at him in a way he’s seen before somewhere in his distant memories and something that reminds him of Wayne. She’s proud of me, he thinks to himself, and that surges him into action. 

He quickly cleans the dishes and gets ready for the day. His Mom kisses him goodbye, leaving him at his desk for a while, pondering out his window. Watching people come and go, he decides to wait an hour or so for it to quieten down. He spends time sketching out some people on the street and the buildings. His mom was right. This place had so much going on it was impossible not to be inspired, and an urge to get amongst it all sweeps over Eddie. He pins up his hair, hiding it under his hat, grabs his satchel, dumping in his art and writing supplies. Rushes into the kitchen to pick up his keys, money and jacket. 

He gives the door a shove to make sure he’s shut it properly, and confident in that, he tries to step away but finds himself yanked back because he’s closed his jacket in there.  Eddie rolls his eyes at his clumsiness and unlocks the door again, releasing his jacket and closing and rechecking it. He takes a breath, starts over, and makes his way down the stairs to the foyer, tips his hat and smiles at his new neighbours as he passes.

It’s not until he steps outside that anyone stops him. 

“Ey! You new around here, ain’t ya?” a deep voice calls out after him. Eddie’s heart is pounding. This is the first person he’s going to officially meet here as the new him. He puts a friendly smile on his face and turns to greet them.

It’s a guy who looks about his age with blond hair, most of which is slicked back in a pompadour style save for a solitary ringlet that fell down his forehead. A cigarette limply hangs from his lips as he mirrors Eddie's smile and uses his shoulder to push himself from the wall he is leaning against.

“Morning,” Eddie chirps back, “Yeah, uh, just got here last night.”

“Oh really?” He tilts his head and looks Eddie over, “Huh.” He steps forward and grabs Eddie’s satchel.

Eddie feels immediately flustered by the intrusion and how quickly this guy got into his space. He tries to laugh it off, “Hey, easy there,” he says, tugging his bag back and taking a few steps down the staircase from the man.

“Easy there,” he mimics and laughs, “You one of those squares from the university?”

Eddie tries to smile again, even though he can feel his old self just beneath the surface, ready to knock out this guy’s teeth. It must have been some sort of dumb prank, “No, I just wanted to try the city out.”

“Oh, you’re a hick?” The guy asks, narrowing his eyes. His grin grows to something sly as if he knows he’s pushing Eddie’s buttons. He jumps down to the step Eddie is on with a thud, takes a long draw on his cigarette, and blows the smoke in Eddie’s face. Eddie waves it away with his hand, making him throw back his head and laugh.

Eddie bites the inside of his cheek, repressing the urge to retaliate, turns his glare away and starts down the stairs again.

“Hey! I’m not done talking to you!” He shouts after Eddie.

“Oh, I think we’re done here, buddy,” Eddie waves back with a forced laugh.

”Was that your old man last night? Crying in his car like a little bitch?” He shouts louder after Eddie.

That does it. Eddie wipes his hand down his lower face to contain the bubbling rage within him. No one talks about Wayne like that. Not this fucker, not anyone. 

What he wouldn’t give to be able to launch himself back up these stairs and send that dick crashing down them with his fist. But he’s not gonna let this asshole ruin his new start.

He turns back and looks up at him. “Ah, there he is,” the guy says with a weird sort of relief and a satisfied grin.

“You know, friend, maybe you shouldn’t be peering in the car windows or old men at night. You’ll get yourself a reputation,” Eddie shouts back at him and watches the guy’s face drop as a passing group of kids giggle at him.

Eddie smirks up at him and sends him a wink before continuing his day, leaving him standing dumbly on the staircase. 

This place was incredible. Eddie gets most of what his mom has asked for on the list from the locations on the small map she drew him. The grocery shop was the place nearest home and looked like the heaviest order, so he’d save that for last.

He circles back and drops in the light bulbs and various cleaning stuffs, and as it’s nice out, instead of staying cooped up inside, he decides to sit on the stairs and sketch some of the scenes around him as he munches on the sandwich from the deli.

He spots a group of girls over by a bench. Two are sitting down. One a light brown Italian-style haircut, like Sophia Loren, her big blue eyes bore into the pages of the book she's reading. Beside her is another girl trying to get something out of her light, mousy brown hair. Though their purposes seem different, they seem to be conversing, and the third, a girl with red hair, has decided to pretend the kerb is a tightrope and keeps her balance walking along it.

Eddie smiles to himself and gets to drawing. He should be trying to think of a main character for his story and draw that, but the inspiration hasn’t hit him yet. This place has too much he wants to capture. Maybe he should see if his mom has a camera or something.

Lost in the piece's details, he overlooks the shadow looming over him, and he’s too late to grab his sketch pad as it is snatched away from his lap. 

“Hey!” Eddie shouts and tries to grab it back, but the problem quickly becomes evident. It's the guy from earlier, only he has two other guys with him this time.

“Geez, what even is this shit,” he sneers at Eddie's drawing and shows it to his friends, who laugh along with him.

Eddie is so over this bullshit already, “Ok, you don’t like it. Fine. Just give it back, ok? And I’ll get away from your stairs, or whatever it is that's making you so upset,” he sighs and extends his hand towards him.

The blonde glares right into his eyes. He licks his teeth and spits on the ground before looking back at Eddie. A sinister smile spreads over his face again as he holds the pad aloft and turns his attention to the girls, “Hey! Ladies! Did you know you were all being perved on by some creep?” he yells over to them.

Eddie springs into panic, waving his hands in front of him. “Oh my god, no. It's not like that at all. I swear,” he frantically pleads with them as they frown at him and walk away, leaving the guys cackling amongst themselves. Great. Day one, and he’s already a fucking creep. What the fuck was this guy’s problem, anyway.

The guy plucks the cigarette out of the freckled boy's mouth and stubs it out on Eddie’s sketch pad, “Oops, better put that out, hadn’t I?” he drops the pad to the steps, stomps on it, grinds his boot into the pages and kicks it over to Eddie.

Eddie’s blood is boiling with rage, but he also feels like he could erupt into tears simultaneously. This was absolutely fucking ridiculous. Why couldn’t he just have this chance? Maybe he’d been so bad all the gods and the universe decided he doesn't get a do-over, and he has to pay for all the trouble he caused.

He looks at the trio and wonders if this is how Hawkins saw him and his gang. A cloud of terror just drifting to cause trouble and leave. Though Eddie never bullied anyone, he did annoy most businesses in town with his antics.

He picks up the pad and dusts it off, putting it in his bag, and he’s about to walk away, but he just can’t help himself. He turns back, eyes this dickhead with absolute disgust, “What is your problem with me anyway? I just got here. I’m not looking for trouble or trying to muscle in on anything you’ve got going on,”

They laugh, and the freckled one smirks, “How the fuck could you muscle in on anythin’? Look atcha. Nothing but an itty bitty weakling,” he jeers.

The one with shorter, cropped blond hair and narrow, icy blue eyes mimics him, “What's your problem with me anyway?” 

The main guy has a satisfied smirk, “I’ll tell you what the problem is,” he says, grabbing Eddie by the shirt and pulling him in close, but Eddie doesn't cower and does not retaliate, just coldly stares right back at him. 

The guy looks Eddie’s face up and down. Like a closer inspection, now he's only inches away from it, “My problem is, I don’t like creeps on my block,” then he leans in to whisper in Eddie’s ear, “And also…I know what you are…Freak!”

Eddie’s stomach churns at the thought of what this guy could have already deciphered about him so quickly. Could he just be talking about the drawings, that he wasn't from here, or he wasn’t dressed right?

He jolts backwards out of his grip as the guy smugly tilts his chin in the air, the victor.

Not wanting to add to today's problems, Eddie simply gathers his things and decides to get the groceries.

The group blocks his path down the stairs, saying, “I’ve got things to do. So if you kindly let me pass, I can be on my way,”

“Don't be too long, now. We’ll be here waiting for when you get back,” the main stocky guy teases.

Eddie hurriedly bustles his way past them, briskly walking away, and doesn't look back. Not even once, as his pulse thunders in his ears. The city seems to swell and contract as the anxiety starts to weave its way into him, and he might have walked right on by the grocery store if not for the uneven sidewalk.

He manages to get his hands in front of him, preventing his face from meeting the pavement and scrambles to his feet.

“What? Not even a postcard?” A thick Chicago accent rings out. Eddie starts to feel the defensiveness rise in him. He’s going to give this joker a piece of his mind. It's only his first day here, and already, it's going to hell. It's a stupid joke, anyway, which makes no sense at all because he didn't trip. He fell. Couldn’t this moron even see that? He dusts off his new clothes and notices a small tear in the knee. And that might be the final straw. Eddie screws up his face in rage. Fists clenched at his sides, one finger extended, ready to point right at this guy.

“No! Not even-” Eddie begins angrily as he turns to the voice. But all language and oxygen leave him, and all he can do is take one gulp of an inhale like a human goldfish.

Standing in front of Eddie right now is something he can barely comprehend. A miracle has occurred, and it doesn't seem like the rest of the world has noticed because it's carrying on like this isn’t even happening. He can vaguely hear the cars and the shouts of others, but they are all starting to dwindle. It was like someone was turning the volume down on planet Earth, and all he could hear was his own heartbeat and breathing.

Then, almost like a vignette is placed over his vision, blurring and darkening the edges, he can only focus on one thing.

The man of Eddie’s dreams.

Physically, at least.

He is right there.

Like the great animators in the sky plucked him out of his mind and drew him into existence.

Had he not put his hand out in time? Was he, in reality, currently knocked out by the fall, and that's why he can see this guy now?

He’s about the same height as Eddie. His hair is neatly cropped, not shoved away and hidden under a hat like his own. It’s side-parted, with a perfect swoop of brown, neatly combed and styled hair. Save for a few strands that hang over his forehead, rebelling against the pomade. His light brown eyes are shaped with a slight slope downwards, giving them a natural, hooded, adorable sadness, just like Elvis himself. But these are larger, which made them infinitely easier to get lost in. But there isn’t an ounce of sadness in the rest of that face as a cocky open-mouthed smile spreads across it. Tucked in the corner of his lips is a toothpick that rolls, as his tongue is idly toying with from inside his mouth as he looks Eddie up and down. 

Then there are those rose-blushed lips of his. They looked so soft, in direct opposition with the perfectly chiselled jaw they rested above. And all of this with a backdrop of olive skin littered with beauty marks. As if this guy needed any more indicators of how beautiful he was. Jesus.

Eddie dares to give him a rapid look up and down, and it is also awful news because not only did they give him the face of an angel, but they had to provide him with a body that would launch a million classical sculptors across all time into action. His shoulders are broad and sit atop two very pleasantly muscular arms. The white cotton t-shirt embraces them, one tighter than the other as it's rolled a little higher to hold his pack of smokes. The fabric stretches over his chest to reveal the mounds and dips of an anatomical landscape that Eddie is sure he would happily sit and admire for longer than any national landmark this fair country had to offer. Then the killing blow by this everyday garment is struck by how it falls and clings to his stomach, revealing he’s even got a slightly soft tummy. Eddie is starting to feel light-headed. This cannot be real.

Then Eddie notices something else, he’s wearing an apron, and in his arms is a crate of apples. He fucking works here. Oh god. Oh, god, no! Eddie starts to feel like he's overheating, and he’s eyelids flutter unintentionally.

“You ok dere, buddy?” The man’s smile and amusement take an eighty per cent plummet as they look over Eddie with concern.

He’s overwhelmed by everything happening right now, the whole day of mistakes leading up to it, questioning if it was even the right choice to come to the city in the first place. If all of these things were glaring warning signs, pointing him to go back home to Hawkins, stop chasing stupid dreams, and get a job with his Uncle Wayne at the factory. And this…this man at his local store of all places spelt trouble for him. No matter how hard he tried, he wasn’t good at hiding his thoughts or feelings. 

That was it decided. He would turn around now, go pack, and go home. This was a stupid idea. Eddie feels a tightness across his shoulders start to spread, his palms heat up, and he realises he’s been staring into space for the last few seconds. 

He tries to run, but his legs suddenly feel like lead, and though he’s stopped, the world spins around a few more times. Instead of the street being in his eye line, the horizon starts to fall, and all he can see is the sky before he feels his back hit something, but it's not hard like the ground. Soon, the horizon returns, as does the street and the face of an angel, moving him to sit on the ground outside the store, next to a pyramid of oranges.

“I need ya to sit right here, ok buddy. I’m gonna get ya some water, alright?” the angel’s mouth moves, and Eddie watches it seriously to make sure he can hear every one of his precious words.

He pats him on the shoulders, steps toward the store door, and pauses before looking back and tilting his head, “What's ya name?”

He is still a little dizzy, but he knows the answer to that question, “Eddie.” he replies quickly. 

The man smiles hugely and repeats his name like he’s testing it out. He places his toothpick behind his ear, “I’m Stefano, yous can call me Steve. Most do,” he gives him a little two-finger wave and disappears inside the store.

Eddie nods a dopey smile of thanks and then tries to take in his surroundings but nearly snaps his neck, looking back just as the guy goes through the door. Holy heck. Turns out it wasn’t just the front of this guy that was stunning. Eddie blows out a breath and stares at the ground. Yeah, this was bad, very bad. He needed to get his things and go home. Maybe getting knocked out by three guys might be slightly less painful than what this situation could be.

Eddie wobbles to his feet and walks to his bag and drawing equipment strewn across the sidewalk.

“EY! I thought I told you to sit right ‘dere?” Steve orders with a loud authority, and there is a clatter of something wooden.

“I’m fine, really,” Eddie says quickly, avoiding looking at him.

“You ain’t fine, buddy. You near hit da deck twice!” Steve says, grabbing his elbow and pulling him back towards the store. Eddie’s eyes turn to him again, and he feels all resistance leave him entirely and is seated on an upturned wooden container. Eddie notices that Steve has made a makeshift table and two chairs entirely out of crates. 

He can’t resist looking back over at him as he bends over to pick up Eddie’s things from the ground, and an internal battle rages as Eddie has to force himself to look elsewhere. This guy had been kind, so far anyway, so it wasn’t right to gawk at him, and also, Eddie shouldn’t be ogling guys. That was a one-way ticket to getting your head kicked in town.

Eddie’s stomach drops as he sees Steve stand and observe the sketch pad as he walks back over to him, “Oh…er… it's not what you think. I swear,” Eddie quickly defends.

“What? That you ain’t an artist?” Steve looks up at him, confused.

“No, well, kinda. I men. Fuck. I mean, “ As Steve’s eyes meet his own with a smirk, he gets lost in his eyes again, “Shit, I don't know what I mean.” He says finally with what he is sure is the dopiest, enamoured smile on his face.

Steve sits on the crate opposite him and hands him back his things apart from the pad he’s still observing. Eddie follows his eyes as they trail over the paper and watches his beautiful long lashes bat as he blinks. He vows to draw them all night until he has a perfect version and then hide it in an old tome in the national library so they’ll never be forgotten by time.

“OK, first, your soda. Hope dats alright. I thought yous might need the sugar,” he turns and whacks the cap off the bottle against the store window ledge. The muscles in his arm visibly flex as he does so and offers it over to Eddie, who accepts it gratefully and quickly diverts his eyes to the bottle itself.

For a second, Eddie's fingers brush against Steve’s, making the skin tingle like there is static between them, and he finds himself avoiding his eyes again as he drinks.

Eddie has not been shy since he can remember. He’s an all-singing, all-dancing, one-man vaudeville extravaganza, and he was trying to be a quieter, more reflective version of himself, but he wasn’t trying to be shy. But this guy made him feel goofy. Like someone had injected him with pure intoxication. Eddie knows he should stop biting the inside of his lip and stop staring, but he feels like it’s out of his control. The universe had put this heavenly body in Levis before him, and what was he supposed to do? Reject the gift? Force his way out of its orbit? No, but he didn’t want to repay the guy's kindness with his weird staring, so he kept trying to focus on other things. Anything that might save him from the flawless man realising he was appreciating him in a more than friendly way.

Eddie figures he must be doing an okay job. The guy hasn’t exhibited any of the usual aggressive tells Eddie had learned in Hawkins. When you're eager for a kiss or to dodge a fist, you learn to be observant of that shit quickly.

Steve tilts his head into his eye line, and once he has his attention, he moves it back to upright and smiles and asks, “Now I got a coupla questions, alright witcha?” Eddie nods in agreement as his eyes obediently follow him, as does the same smile he can’t seem to wipe from his face.

“You don’t sound like yous from here. You lost?” He asks.

Eddie shakes his head, “Nah, not lost. Not at all,” he means that he feels found when Steve looks at him, “But I did only get here last night,” Eddie offers up freely, and part of his brain is too slow to protest the fact he shouldn’t be telling a stranger more than they ask for.

Steve’s smile widens, “Dat makes sense,” Eddie watches his fingers trail over the paper where the cigarette has burned the pages, and a fresh feeling of embarrassment floods him. He could have taken the three of them. This guy sure wasn’t going to be impressed when he found out he’d effectively run away.

“It does?” Eddie asks, suddenly eager to have Steve look at him again.

“Yeah. I ain’t seen you before. Woulda remembered,” Steve sends him a charming boyish smile as the toothpick in his mouth moves from one side of his mouth to the other, “So, uh-“ he starts but is quickly interrupted.

“STEFANO!! ‘Owa, long is it gonna take for yous to finish the apples, eh? We’ll have a whole orchard ina here beforea you’re done. Amonini!” A woman’s voice rings out loud and clear, bursting the dreamy bubble Eddie was sitting in.

He looks over for Steve’s reaction. His eyes are wide, and a faint blush hits his cheeks and jaw, “‘Scuse me, Eddie,” he pockets Eddie’s pad in his apron and returns to the crate of apples Eddie had seen him carrying. He sets it out on the sloped display and is about to sit back down when he’s stopped in his tracks again.

“Stefano!! Why you no answer me?” The woman’s voice calls out again, annoyed and getting closer. Eddie watches Steve close his eyes slowly and slams down the second crate.

“IM DOIN’ IT, MA!” He yells back at the top of his lungs, goes back inside and re-emerges with another few crates piled up on top of one another.

“Urgh dissa boy, I swear. STEFANO!” Eddie hears the woman very clearly now, even though she isn’t shouting, and he looks up to see an open window she must be upstairs.

“MA! I'M DOING IT ALREADY!” Steve yells back, his beautiful brow frowns petulantly as he roughly shoves the crates into the display in an adorable little tantrum.

“Why you take-a so long? Huh?”

“Ma! I just fucking stepped foot out here! Gimme a fuckin’ chance! I’m only one man! Jesus!” 

“STEFANO EMILIO HARRINGTON, Don-na tell me you takin’ Jesus’ name in vain,” her voice travels around the place until Eddie hears the sound of footsteps and the ring of the bell as the door is yanked open. A woman’s face emerges. Initially, she looks furious, “Listen to how my son talks to me. You heara dat? What kinda terrible mother have I been to deserve that? Oh, the worst!” It feels like she says it to Eddie, but her words could have been for anyone in earshot.

Eddie's eyes turn to Steve, who, though now quite red in the face, probably from carrying all those crates around, is having some kind of absolutely silent conversation with his mother. It was the complete opposite of the yelling match they were just having. They gesture their hands in pointed, stern ways at first. Fingers pinched together, their eyes and faces express some kind of disagreement that soon dissolves to calm, and his mother’s eyes turn to Eddie for a second before she turns back to Steve and drags her thumb down her cheek with a big smile at him. He shrugs and looks a little bashful. She nods and goes back inside.

He watches Steve take a deep breath, and he walks over to sit back down on his crate seat, “Sorry ‘bout dat. So, uh, are you an artist den?” He pulls the pad back out and places it between them.

The sudden intrusion of Steve’s mom seems to give Eddie some of the English language back, “ I, um, yeah, I like to draw, but I wanna write,” he says and takes a swig of his drink immediately after speaking, to prevent himself from waffling too much.

“Oh, like for da paper?”

“Uh, well, maybe,” Eddie cannot bring himself to tell this beautiful being he’s wrong, “But books mostly. Stories and things like that,” now he feels that shyness again. Sometimes, it feels dumb to talk about his dreams out loud. Steve probably thinks he’s an idiot without a real job, but there isn’t a crumb of negativity on Steve’s face, just a broad smile.

“O’ course, you write stories and draw. Course ya do,” he says with a happy shake of his head, “Well ya know, if, er, yeah, I can always put a word in for you at da paper. I knowaguy,” Steve offers kindly, and Eddie can feel himself falling in love with how he talks with every word he says, on top of how kind and beautiful he is.

“Gee, that’d be swell,” Eddie says, unable to hide his gigantic grin.

Steve taps his finger on the pad, “I think. I might know these girls,” though Steve says it with a smile, Eddie freezes. Worried this man’s initial kindness was going to sour quickly now. He probably thinks the same as the guy outside his building. He feels such an idiot for drawing it in the first place, but he doesn’t see anything wrong in it because, for starters, one was an actual child, and the other two were beautiful. He could see that, but the same way he’d feel about a sunset or a lovely tree, not beautiful like attraction, not like he felt about Steve, but he couldn’t just tell someone that, so he plays along.

“Oh yeah?” Eddie keeps it short and tries not to make this worse than it needs to be.

“Yeah, dis one with da book. ‘Dats Nancy, she used to be my girl,” Steve says, not taking his eyes from the pad. Eddie's space rocket of impossible dreams explodes before it even leaves the stratosphere and sends his stomach plummeting. What did he expect, though, really? Steve’s finger moves across the paper, and he taps the heads of the other two girls, “Deez two, my sisters.” Shit. Eddie feels the need to run. This guy is gonna flip out any minute and probably crush his head like a melon between two of these wooden crates. But both through fear and the fact that Steve raises his soulful brown eyes to meet his, he stays put.

He knows he should say something, but he’s struggling to find the right watertight words and has no chance of being misunderstood. But he can’t think straight when he can see almost every small pigment detail in Steve’s eyes and presses his lips together, afraid he might just say something about them instead.

A loud slam of a car door pushes a word out of Eddie, “B-beautiful,” he blurts out.

“Oh,” Steve replies and pushes the pad over to Eddie. The smile fades from his lips, and Eddie hates it, so he just lets his motormouth let rip.

“The scene. I mean. The scene was beautiful. Not the girls. I mean, yes, they are beautiful, but I don't mean in that way. They were together but so different, and when I sat down to draw, they were perfectly framed from where I was sitting. I was inspired by them, you know? Like a nice tree or something. Back home is so different from here. All I had to draw sometimes were nice trees. I don’t know why I’m telling you about nice trees. I’m just saying that I didn't mean any harm. I know better now. I won’t do it again. I swear. This city has plenty more things that are inspiring. I just thought they looked kinda like if a personality was a group of people. I thought that fit this place because it's a huge mixture of cultures, sounds, and sights.”

Steve’s eyes don’t leave Eddie’s, “Da girl holdin’ the book. Dat’s Nancy. We used to date a while back. She’s real smart. I reckon yous two would get along real well. I could introduce ya if you want?”

“Oh god, no!” Eddie says way too quickly, with a laugh, “I mean, no, thank you. I’m not looking for a girl. I mean, I’m not looking to date right now. But thank you.” he awkwardly recovers as quickly as he can. Well, at least hopes he has. He thinks maybe he’s slightly successful as Steve leans forward a little to rest his chin on his fist, and a smile reappears.

“You know, maybe you could do it from here next time you wanna draw or write? ‘Deres normally a table, but I had to take it inside to fix somethin’ on it,” Eddie glimpses through the window of the store and quite clearly can see two elderly gentlemen playing checkers on it, “It’d be nice to have a creative type use it, prob’ly attract more people like ‘dat. If you wan’ I mean,” he says kindly.

Eddie can’t believe his luck. Yeah, sure, today had started off a complete mess, but now he had a movie-star-looking guy, basically saying, spend time with me every day, doing what you love. If it wasn’t for how Steve flips the toothpick around in his mouth, Eddie would have been completely lost in his eyes and swooned clear off the crate in front of him.

“Gosh, that's really kind of you. When are you usually here? Every day?” Eddie asks, maybe a little too enthusiastically, which makes Steve laugh, and it might be sweeter than morning birdsong to Eddie’s ears.

“Well-” Steve starts but is interrupted as the bell above the door rings again.

His mom emerges with a tray of coffee and tiny cups. This time, Eddie jumps to his feet to introduce himself properly and not just sit and stare. He quickly neatens up his clothes and clumsily tries to angle his leg, so it hides the tear in his pants. He almost laughs at his eagerness to impress her. He supposes he is new and wants to make a good impression, but he knows it's more than that. He knows that his fantasy brain is running away with him again, trying to impress the object of his affection’s mother. Like this could ever be a thing.

The small woman has beautifully coiffed dark brown hair, and her eyes look just the same as Steve’s, except her’s are expertly lined with makeup. She beams at Eddie as she sets the tray on the crate, which wobbles, and Steve rushes inside the store momentarily. Leaving Eddie and his mom smiling awkwardly at one another for a moment. Eddie can hear some raised voices but can’t make out any of the words the raised voices are exchanging and figures they must be talking in Italian. The two elderly men from inside emerge, grumbling. One with the checkerboard under his arm storms out first, followed by a second, who flicks his hand under his chin at Steve, who laughs and yells after them, “Well, if yous two ordered more dan a biscotti to share every day, den maybe you’d keep the table!” he shakes his head, “Fuckin’ stunad,”

“Stefano!” his mom reprimands him as he exchanges the crates for actual furniture. He seats his mom first as if that doesn't make Eddie’s heart beat faster with how sweet he is. He looks at Eddie and then down at the tray, and for a second, Eddie can’t do anything except look back like he’s hypnotised or something, but his mom coughs daintily, and Eddie realises what he needs to do and lifts the tray, as Steve swaps in a small table, and goes rushes back into the store and virtually jumps down the steps on his return, puts a chair one side of his mom, and then walks around to where Eddie and set down the last chair.

“Ma, dis is Eddie,” Steve whacks him hard on the back, and Eddie has to pinch his lips together in a smile to stop the oof from being expelled from them, from the sheer force of it, “He’s gonna be a big shot writer, ain’t dat right, Ed?”

Eddie dared not look at Steve right now. He was so close he felt the breath that contained his abbreviated name against his cheek. He keeps his eyes on Steve’s mom and offers an upturned hand towards her. She looks at him strangely but obliges him, putting her hand in his, and he kisses the back of it.

“A pleasure to meet you. I’m sure gonna try to make it at least,” he smiles back as she raises an eyebrow at Steve with an impressed face, and Eddie feels like this is his first shoot and success of the day.

But he’s not ready for feeling Steve’s warm hand slide against the small of his back as he guides him down into his chair and tucks it in for him, “Dere you go, much better, right?” Steve says happily as he returns to his own seat, and Eddie’s eyes obediently follow him all the way there, but when Steve’s eyes catch his again, he quickly looks away.

“You look, uh, wassa the word, similar,” his mom says, pulling his attention from the mosaic pattern on the tiny cups and saucers.

“It’s familiar, Ma,” Steve corrects, gently pouring the coffee into the cups from an odd-looking contraption.

“Ah, yeah, familiar,” she moves a finger quickly in front of her face, “Your eyes.”

“Oh, maybe you know my Mama, I mean mom,” Eddie says, quickly correcting himself again, but Steve and his mom exchange a happy look with one another and then back at Eddie, so he figures maybe they at least found it amusing rather than stupid.

“What's her name?” Steve asks, passing a tiny cup and saucer to his mom first and then to Eddie.

“Esmerelda,” Eddie tries, but two blank faces look back at him, “Uh, Esmerelda Munson, she lives right over there,” Eddie points out the building as he turns behind him.

The clatter of a teaspoon makes him spin around quickly to two now stunned faces.

“You're dat Eddie? Mrs Munson’s boy?” Steve asks hurriedly. 

Though the fear swirls in his gut that maybe his reputation might have preceded him, he’s in too deep to lie, “Yeah, you know her?” he says, swallowing nervously.

Steve’s mom claps her hands together, holds them up to her mouth like she's in prayer, and looks up to the canopy above them with a big smile.

“We sure do,” Steve grins, “She helped us out a lot when Pa passed. She’s a real kind lady.” 

“I’m sorry to hear that. That must be difficult,” Eddie adds somberly as he watches how Steve drinks from the small cup and saucer and copies him. He understands immediately why this stuff is sipped and is in such tiny cups. It's much richer than regular coffee, almost thicker, and sweet too. It's delicious. Eddie can’t help himself and takes another sip immediately and lets out an involuntary sound of appreciation before setting down his cup.

“Si, a real, uh, ball-busta,” Steve's mom says happily.

Eddie nearly chokes on thin air as Steve complains, “Ma! Jesus! You don’t say that!” but Eddie can’t help laughing.

“Yeah, I guess she is a bit,” he beams at Steve’s mom, who pats pinches his cheek.

“Biddicchiu,” she laughs with him as Steve passes her the sketch pad and juts his thumb towards Eddie. Her eyes scan over the paper.

“I said Ed was welcome to work from here if he wants,” Steve says, “Hope dats ok?”

His mom nods, then gestures to the cigarette burn on the paper and the scuff marks. She speaks to Steve in Italian. Eddie guesses that because he can’t understand much, but he recognises her anger when she points her hand sharply at Eddie’s building, frowns deeply, and taps her temple. Eddie stays quiet and watches Steve reassure her.

“Can I have dissa one?” she says, gesturing at Eddie’s drawing.

“Yeah, but I can draw you a better one than that, on nicer-” Eddie starts, but she has already torn out the paper and folded it away in her own apron pocket.

“Ma says you’re welcome here anytime,” Steve smiles at him. Eddie is pretty sure there is more to what his mom said than that, but he doesn't want to press it, “We live just above here, so, uh, it dont matter what da time is, you know? One-a us’ll be here.” 

“Thank you, that's real kind,” Eddie says politely.

Steve's mom grips Eddie’s shoulder, looking at him seriously, “Listen to me, don-a talk widda, those boys over there. They no good. You come here, we not mucha further. Then your mama, no worry,” Eddie nods, and her red lipstick smile adorns her face again, “Besides, we gotta good food, better coffee, and a much nicer view, uh?” Eddie follows her eyes to Steve, who is blushing. Maybe he’s a bit embarrassed because he’s also had a run-in with those guys.

“Yeah, much better,” Eddie agrees, and Steve’s mom pats his cheek.

“Smart boy,” she says happily and looks up at Eddie’s building again, “I think deeza buildings so close you could see Stefano’s window from yours,” Eddie has no idea why she’s blessing him with this information, but his brain rapidly works out that he could probably see it from his own bedroom.

“MA!” Steve says in alarm and nudges her, then hurriedly clears up the tray as she lets out a melodic laugh, clutching her sides. Her eyes trail after him as he goes inside.

She turns back to Eddie, “My boy, he's good. Make you-a good friend. Yes?” She asks and puts a finger to her cheek and twists it around. She looks encouragingly at him, “You like?” She repeats the gesture against her cheek.

“Yes,” Eddie says enthusiastically. Even though he doesn't just like it here. He loves it here. They’d been so friendly and obviously tried to not think about the other things he liked about here.

“Si,” She says, takes Eddie's hand, and makes him mirror her gesture.

She lets go and tries again, “You like?”

“Si,” Eddie repeats and actions the gesture himself this time. She claps her hands together happily.

As Steve rejoins them, she starts talking at him, rapidly gesturing with her hands between himself and Steve. He can pick out his name and cafe, which he thinks must be related to coffee.

“Alright, alright, geez ma,” Steve says, looking a little confused at her and then turns to Eddie, “Before she has some kinda fit aboudit, she wants me to ask if yous liked the espresso,” Steve looking at him with a bashful smile.

Eddie is nudged in the ribs by Mrs Harrington, who nods encouragingly at him again. He cautiously raises his finger to his cheek and turns it, “Si?” he says awkwardly and looks between them.

At first, Steve's mouth parts ever so slightly, like he's going to say something, then his eyes move to his mom, and he shakes his head but can’t seem to wipe the smirk from his face.

The bell over the door rings, and they all turn towards it, and the customer that just entered. Steve stands, but his mother shakes her head at him and gently pushes him back into his seat as she stands up. At the door, she turns back to Eddie, “If your mama worksa late, you come eat with us.” That didn't sound like a question to Eddie, but he nodded anyway. She tuts and tilts her head at him, a playful frown on her brow.

“Si,” Eddie tries again, and she looks delighted as she ruffles Steve’s hair and walks into the store.

“Sorry about dat,” Steve says, picking at the table, “She’s a a lot sometimes.”

“Oh, I didn't mind at all,” Eddie replies truthfully, and suddenly, he remembers why he was coming this way anyway, “Oh god, food. Yeah, I have to get food, that's…” Eddie rummages through his things and finds the notepaper.

“Want some help?” Steve asks, standing at the same time Eddie does.

“No, you’ve done so much already. I couldn’t keep taking up your time like this,” Eddie laughs awkwardly, but all he really wants to do is say yes.

Steve waves his hand, “It’s no trouble for a paying customer,” He says and walks towards the steps to the store with Eddie. As they reach the door, Steve pushes it open for him, “Allow me, Sir,” he chuckles and follows Eddie inside.

Steve guides him around the place, helps Eddie find everything on his list, and puts an extra small box on top as he rings up the groceries.

“What's that?” Eddie asks curiously.

“Cannoli, your Ma likes ‘em,” Steve answers as Eddie places the money in his hand, trying not to let his fingers linger against his palm longer than they should.

“I’ll make sure she gets it,” Eddie smiles, unsure exactly what it was, but he’d be sure to pass it on, all the same.

“Want me to walk you home? I’ll make sure Billy, Jason and Tommy don't give you any trouble,” Steve says, leaning over the counter towards him.

Something about that made Eddie’s heart race, but he didn't want to appear weak, “No, it's fine. I’m used to it, just it was my first day here, and it kinda got to me, is all.” And that doesn't feel like as much of a lie as it seemed. Having this oasis of safety with Steve and his family didn’t make the thought of Billy and his goons seem so awful.

“You still gonna come by tomorrow?” Steve genuinely asks, his eyes big and innocent, scanning over Eddie as he gathers the grocery bags.

“Yeah, course I will,” Eddie answers like Steve asked him the most ridiculous question in the history of all mankind, “I feel pretty inspired again already,” Eddie smiles fondly at Steve, who was rapidly becoming one of his favourite things in the universe.

“Yeah?” Steve says, plucking the toothpick from behind his ear and putting it back in his mouth, “I reckon dis place could maybe be a great beginning…for your story, I mean,” he says, walking around the counter and holding the door open for Eddie again, following him outside.

“Tomorrow then,” Eddie smiles at him, trying not to sigh because tomorrow already felt too far away. Steve nods back, and Eddie catches a glimpse of Steve’s mom in the window. He gives her a wave and starts walking back to the apartment.

As he reaches the corner, he looks back. He can see Mrs Harrington buzzing and fussing around Steve, who looks like he is laughing and pretending to fight her off. He smiles to himself, and with the staircase of the building clear of idiots, he thinks that maybe Steve is right. 

This could be a perfect place for the beginning of his new story.

[madaboutmunson]

Black Denim Trousers & Motorcycle Boots (Sweet Home Chicago Series - Part 2)

Summary for overview of the whole fic can be found here

For @eddiemonth 

Week 2 prompts used: Times Like These - Foo FIghters, Wanted Dead or Alive - Bon Jovi, Determined, Adventurous, Soulmates, Monsters, Come As You Are - Nirvana

Warnings: None that I could think of, but let me know if you feel any should be added, and I'll do that straight away :) 

Romance/Fluff Word Count : 9.6K

Ao3 Link

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Eddie wakes with a start. An uncomfortable stiffness in his back and a numbness in his arms make themselves known quickly as a coffee mug appears in his view.

“Morning, sweetheart. I wasn’t gonna come in, but you didn’t answer, and I got a little worried,” she sits on the corner of his desk and starts picking up some of the pieces of paper that he can now see are littered all around him, “But when I saw you fast asleep on your desk, I thought I better wake you up. I know you don’t like to be late.” She smiles at him a little knowingly. He knows she can tell. He just hasn’t been brave enough to say it outright yet, and to her credit, she hasn't pushed. But he knows how obvious it is that he loves spending his days at the grocery store. He knows when they are both finally home, and she asks how his day was, he would try in vain to be calm and quiet about it, “Yeah, was good. Got a lot done.” But she’d wait a while to see if any further information would come her way before asking, “Was Steve there today?” that would just start the lengthy gushing about every little thing Steve did that day. It felt fine when he was in the midst of it, but as soon as he paused, he’d feel embarrassed, sometimes guilty. It was customary to be enthusiastic about friends, right? Especially new ones. 

Eddie knew that wasn’t why, and he got the sneaking suspicion his mama knew that too. He just wasn’t ready to have that conversation. He hasn’t been prepared to have that conversation since Wayne caught him with the huge A Streetcar Named Desire movie poster that Eddie had broken into the local cinema to retrieve for his own after learning that most movie posters just got plunged into storage, overhearing one of the ushers in the malt shop. He’d enacted the escapade alone for fear his fellow gang members wouldn't buy the fact that he wanted it for Vivienne Leigh, as he’d never mentioned her before. In hindsight, they probably would have just believed him if he’d told them he’d done it because he could because that's what he did back then. He didn’t need a rhyme or reason to rebel; he just did it to feel something he had control over.

And if Eddie hadn’t had Little Richard blasting out of his record player, if Eddie had remembered to just lock his door, or even if Eddie had just been listening the night before when Wayne had said he was going to be back earlier than usual, because a bunch of jobs got cancelled, then maybe, just maybe Wayne wouldn't have walked in on him running his fingers over the man on the poster. Eddie had tried to bolt, but Wayne had grabbed hold of him and sat him down, asked him to explain, and Eddie had lied. He’d told him he just wanted to be like him, that it was no different to the cowboys he used to draw or cut out of the paper and stick to his wall.

Wayne, god love him, hadn’t got mad, just blinked a few times and apologised for grabbing his arm. Asked if he was okay, “You never need to run from me, son. Not for anythin’.” And because he had no reason not to, he took Wayne at his word, but that moment plagued him for longer and much more profoundly than he cared to admit. As if to play into his lie, he decided to embody a version of Brando. The Wild One. 

He’d worked hard alongside Wayne until he’d saved up enough for an old beat-up motorcycle that he slaved away to fix up. He practically begged Wayne for a new pair of 501s and scoured the thrift shops for old biker jackets, but ended up finding one when scouring a barn for parts with Wayne one day. It was a little big, but Eddie didn’t mind. Got himself a used pair of black boots, one of his Grandpa’s old belts and a hat, and he looked the part. And whatever Eddie did, his little minions followed.

But that wasn’t enough for Eddie. He didn’t just want to look like Johnny. He wanted to become him.

It was easy to act cool when people were scared of you and your gang, and it was easy to kiss girls and make them cry when you were never into them in the first place. That's the thing about rebelling in a small town. Quickly, you run out of things to fight against, and soon, much to Wayne’s displeasure, Eddie had the town almost bending to his will, sometimes through charm but primarily by fear. Guys wanted to be him, and girls wanted to be with him, and that was great when it was impressing your friends, but it didn’t mean anything to him when he lay in bed at the end of the day. Somewhere along the way, this lonesome cowboy on his steel horse lost his north star. He wasn’t the hero taking on a stuffy old town that kept its youth down. He had become the villain. And as always with these sorts of things, he quite quickly became the scapegoat for anything that went wrong in that place.

As he sits up, a piece of paper joins him on the journey to being upright, and he peels it away from where it is stuck to the side of his face.

He tries to remember what he had been working on last night as his mama sips her coffee, and her vibrant eyes move over each page as she picks them up. Then it hits him, and he frantically tries gathering up the papers around him.

“Eddie! What's gotten into you?” She laughs and holds the paper away from him, “These are really good. Why are you hiding them?” 

“Well, uh, well…because they aren't finished. Yeah, they aren't finished,”. He lies quickly, and his mama’s piercing green eyes narrow at him and stare directly into his own.

She hands him back the sketch in her hand, “I just like seeing what you’re working on. It doesn't need to be perfect. I’ll leave you to it.” Eddie’s heart races in his chest as he nervously turns over the piece of paper his mom had been looking at and breathes a sigh of relief when he sees it is a drawing of the hero for his book. A knight who had no name or story yet, but one thing was for sure. He was a hero, a real one. One that wouldn’t lose his way. Perfect in poise and noble in deed.

Eddie shuffles through the other pages. 

The knight changes from armour and brandishing a sword to being dressed in peasant clothes that hug his sculpted body and holding an apple.

A page or two later, and all the false premise is stripped away.

Soft eyes that, even when narrowed by the sunlight, still look kind. The long lashes splay out elegantly, which he’s taken a little artistic licence with because he still hasn’t gotten over them since the first day he met Steve. His fingers trace along the slight crease at the corner of one of the sketched eyes, and soon he’s moving from beauty mark to freckle and back and down until he meets that handsome jawline, moves through the stubble that frustratingly can’t be felt. Only urging his fingers to tentatively brush over the lips that only ever spill gentle words to him.

“Eddie!” His mom calls out, and he nearly falls out of his chair due to being alarmed out of his daydream. He quickly shuffles all the papers together and shoves them in his drawer. “You want some eggs, sweetheart?”

“Yeah, Mama, that’d be great!” he calls back, breathlessly clutching his chest. 

Eddie shakes his head and drops his head into his hands. He felt awful. Steve and his mom hadn’t shown him anything but kindness since he got here, and here he was, having these thoughts about Steve. He imagines how horrified they would be if they found out. These thoughts were wrong. He knew that. He just couldn't seem to keep them under control.

Nothing he had read about this kind of attraction made it seem like an accepted ailment or condition. It was something you had to pray or force out of a person. If Eddie had been sick with anything else, he’d go to a doctor, but wasn’t it still illegal? He guessed it didn’t have to be unlawful for the public to take matters into their own hands. Not that he’d ever acted on any of it. Almost a few times, but nothing more than a lingering touch or something that felt like a kiss was on the horizon, but the sun never rose on those opportunities. Just an expanse of unknowns shrouded in shadow.

But as he sits there, he recalls how his dad spoke about Eddie being made out of pure love. So, no matter what layers he or the world draped him in at his core, that’s what he’d always be. A walking, talking personification of love. If that were true, how could anything he felt be so terrible? It would be fine if it was a girl, right? But the fact remained that the world said it was wrong, whether he understood why it thought that or not.

He knows that’s why his mama uses sweetheart above all other terms of affection for him. He remembers how she would say his smile could light up the darkest room and how his scowls only deprived the world of what it needed most in hard times. It was a dramatic statement, but he clung to it when he struggled with these things, like a scraggly worn scrap of a comfort blanket that reminds him that at his centre, he’s good.

He also knows that’s why Wayne didn't berate his bad behaviour when he confronted him about his slightly more-than-friendships with girls. Wayne explained that if something wasn’t for him, he should leave it alone. Eddie had made his point that he could get all the girls he wanted, but he didn’t have to continue to leave broken hearts in his wake any more. To begin with, he thought it was just that, a confrontation to address another tearful girl that Eddie had led on because she found him flirting with another girl the next day. But throughout the discussion, Wayne gently prised open his rebel armour at its weakest points with careful questions and sympathy.

The way he’d started that conversation stone-faced and defensive and ended up a tearful confessing mess against Wayne’s shoulder never failed to make him get choked up when he recalled it. There was no punishment, no lecture, just flannel-wrapped arms holding him tight. Rough, hard-working hands brushing over his hair and kisses on his head between words of reassurance and relief.

Eddie did tone his behaviour down from then on like the confession had freed him of a constant irritation that had been lingering just out of reach for years, but it was far too late. Hawkins had made up its mind, and that might have been his first forced step towards Chicago.

He could start over here. He could leave that old life behind and learn how to live all over again, even if that included learning to hide some aspects of himself. Maybe his dad was just wrong. Perhaps regardless of his parents, he was resigned to a life alone. Would that really be so bad? If he couldn’t love a girl non-platonically, he could aim for something else, couldn’t he? If he could be successful professionally and keep himself safe? That could be more than enough. He could morph attraction into just an appreciation of beauty. He could do this. He could change his stars.

With a deep breath and a renewed sense of purpose, he pushes down the self-loathing and love worries and starts his day over.

The rest of his morning is terrific. Being up early with his mama means he’s too early for the goons on the stairs. He strolls down by the river until the school kids dwindle and then heads to the grocery store. And just like every morning, rain or shine, the canopy is extended, and his personal table is already set up against the window. Steve’s handsome face greets him within moments, offering him espresso and a heart-stopping smile. He accepts both gladly, and though today seems busier than usual, Steve still takes his smoke breaks with Eddie. Flicks through his notes and drawings, but one element was missing today, and Steve’s adorably creased brow isn’t happy about it.

Steve grips either side of the table and wiggles it. Looks to face the same way as Eddie and looks around confused. Then, finally, he looks above him and back to Eddie, “Everthin’ alright for ya today, Ed?”

“Yeah, just perfect,” Eddie beams back at him. Because it is. Everything is perfect when Steve’s around because he eclipses everything else.

The curious look doesn't leave his face as he leans back in his chair to light a cigarette and leans one elbow on the backrest of it, “You feelin’ ok?”

“Oh yeah, the best,” he replies enthusiastically because that was true, too. When he had Steve’s attention, he felt he must be the most special person on the planet.

“ ‘Den, what's goin’ on here?” he waves the hand holding his smoke over the sketches strewn across the table. Eddie looks down at the table as if to check for anything incriminating, but there isn’t anything.

“You don’t like them?” Eddie asks tentatively.

“Oh, uh, I like ‘em plenty, just, uh,” Steve’s honey-brown eyes scan the table again before flicking back up to Eddie’s, “Well, where is he?”

“Well, he’s right…” Eddie shuffles through the sketches. He finds various fruits and their arrangements, coffee cups, an empty version of the chair opposite him, a few trees and a sunset, “Oh,” he says, looking back up at Steve. The realisation the character he’d been working on, the knight, was nowhere to be seen in word or picture.

“You homesick?” Steve asks compassionately

“No, I don’t think so,” Eddie answers genuinely because whilst he does miss Wayne, he does not miss Hawkins.

Steve hums, looks over the pictures again, “Say, uh, did you try one-a da cannoli we send home for your ma, sometimes?” The change in subject is odd to Eddie, but he’s glad of it.

“God, yeah!” Eddie replies quickly, eyes widening at Steve, “I was trying to describe them to my uncle, but I had no idea how because I’d never eaten anything like ‘em. The best I could come up with was it's like a pie tube, with the creamiest sweet filling and candied peel that cuts right through and balances it just perfectly, but, uh, needless to say, he just laughed at me. But when he visits, I’ll make sure to buy him one. Where do you get those from anyway?” Eddie finally takes a breath after enthusing over the delicious pastries that Steve or his mom occasionally put in with his shopping.

Steve smiles hugely, “I know-a-guy,” he takes another drag on his cigarette, “Anyways, you don’t like dis knight no more? Is dat it?”

Eddie shrugs, “I dunno. I guess, um, he’s just not inspiring me today?” he awkwardly smiles at Steve, whose mouth downturns a little, but he nods.

“Oh, did he do sumthin’ wrong…in da story?” Steve asks as he stubs out his smoke, not looking at Eddie.

“No, it's not like that. It’s kinda like, somedays I get up, and all I can think about is the story and everything the knight is, was and could be, and on those days, I can write about him or draw him for hours. But then, some days, he’s just not there. Or he is, but I just don't wanna write or draw about it, you know? It’s just inspiration. Sometimes, you arrange the oranges in a pyramid and decorate the table, right? With grapes and whatever those things are, and some days, you just put the crates out. A spark of creativity,” Eddie overexplains and feels a little embarrassed, revealing something that must sound utterly ridiculous to Steve, who works hard every day regardless of how he feels. He does it because he has to, for his family.

Steve tilts his head, looking Eddie over, probably trying to figure out why he said such strange things or got so animated about them. A small smile reappears, “Figs,” he says finally.

“Figs?” Eddie asks, one of his hands gripping tightly around the side of the chair seat, fearing he might float away straight up to cloud nine if Steve keeps looking at him like that.

“Yeah, next to the grapes,” he points over to one of the odd-shaped things and looks back at Eddie, “Figs,” He repeats, and picks one up and cleans it on his shirt.

The fruit looks a lot smaller in his hands. As he holds it between them, tearing it open easily, he offers half to Eddie, who shakes his head, “Oh, no thank you. I’m good.” It's a strange thing, purple on the outside and on the inside a halo of yellow around a red fleshy centre.

“I ain’t steered ya wrong so far,” Steve says simply, putting one-half of it midway between them on the table. He smiles at Eddie and turns his attention onto the street, raising the fruit to his mouth.

Until this moment, Eddie didn't really know why the story of Adam and Eve didn't sit right with him. Sure, he hadn’t read it in-depth, just vaguely remembered it. Sure, it was a story to explain creation because, at the time, they probably had no other reasons as to why humans were on this planet. But the thing that always bugged him was that they apparently used fig leaves to cover themselves up when their innocence was lost after Eve took a bite of an apple, so surely the nearest tree would have been an apple tree. But as Steve's full lips push against the skin of the fruit he’s flipped inside out, a droplet of juice spills out of the corner of his mouth and races towards his elegant jawline. Eddie realises that maybe something had been lost in translation, and perhaps Eve had bitten into a fig, just like this, because nothing so far in his existence has been this tempting or felt so forbidden, as he watches Steve bite into the fruit to consume it. Desperate for the knowledge of how it might feel to have his lips right where the fig is. He realises he’s staring at his mouth, but as he flicks his eyes up, Steve doesn't appear to have noticed, thankfully. To prevent himself from openly drooling, he picks up the fruit and copies how Steve ate his half, even looking out onto the street to avert his eyes. Though he’s absolutely sure he doesn’t look anywhere near as good as Steve looked doing it. Due to concentrating heavily on trying to compose himself, the sweetness and flavour take him completely by surprise. He makes an involuntary, pleased noise and eats the whole thing.

“Told ya,” A voice softly says in his ear, and he jolts with surprise, only to find Steve leaning across the table into his space. They laugh at Eddie’s over-the-top reaction, “You know it’s said figs are food of da gods. Maybe you’ll feel like writin’ again soon enough, huh?”

Eddie can only smile as his stomach somersaulting like a circus act prevents him from forming a coherent response. Because all his brain wants him to do right now has very little to do with writing or drawing.

His pulse is almost rumbling in his ears, at least that's what he thinks it is initially, until the noise becomes clearer, and the butterflies in Eddie’s stomach vanish and are replaced with a plummeting feeling when he recognises the noise. 

Motorcycles.

Eddie thinks his past has caught up with him. He knew someone would come looking for him eventually, for a fire he didn't even start. He frantically goes to gather his things, but Steve’s hand is on his shoulder, and Eddie can’t look. Was this what this was? Had he befriended Eddie to keep him in place for that motorcycle gang? 

“Hey, easy, buddy. Dese are just my friends. They ain’t bad,” Steve smiles reassuringly, “Dere hygiene and sense-a humor maybe.” Steve’s hand on his shoulder radiates a soothing warmth, almost like a sedative spreading through him from the point of contact, “No more espresso for yous today, huh?” Steve laughs light and melodic, and Eddie finally smiles back.

“Sorry,” Eddie says awkwardly.

“ ‘S ok, buddy. I get it. Remember, you’re safe here, yeah? I-we won’t let anything happen to ya. Promise,” Steve says with such an earnest expression that Eddie can only believe him. He turns his attention to the bikes pulling up, and stands to greet them.

The four guys are dressed in Eddie’s old day-to-day uniform. Leather motorcycle jackets, black boots, jeans. An odd bunch, he thinks. The first guy, who looks like the leader, has the most confident strut, pulls up first and is walking ahead of the rest, his hair in a jelly roll style. To Eddie's surprise, just to his left is an African-American guy with a dimple on his upper cheek as he laughs at one of the others stumbling with their kickstand. His hair was in a pompadour style, cut in that style rather than straightened and styled. Next is a tallish, thin guy with small features. His sandy blond hair is cut in a similar style to Steve’s but a little longer and unruly, and last of all, a Latino-looking guy with the longest braided hair Eddie thinks he’s ever seen on anyone.

The one at the front runs up to tackle Steve, and then all except the sandy blond pile in also, and all four of them end up falling into one of the displays, as Steve laughs along with them, grabbing the little one in a headlock.

“Shit, Steve, not my hair!” he yells.

“Aw, come on, Gaz, doesn’t matter how good your hair looks, you’re always gonna have dat little chipmunk face of yours,” Steve laughs but lets him go.

Eddie feels someone looking at him and turns to find the slender guy staring at him. As Eddie averts his eyes, he notices his name painted in beautiful cursive on his jacket. Jonny. There was a time when Eddie would have stared right back at him, but not this new Eddie. Not his second-chance version of himself. 

Steve eventually prises himself from the others and walks over to shake Jonny’s hand, “Good to see ya, Jon,” he says, but the only reply he gets is a silent nod before walking around the table to stand next to Eddie.

“Alright, ya bunch of assholes, calm down. Dis is Ed. He’s new round here,” Steve looks and smiles at him, and Eddie returns it and gives a weak wave to the others.

“Hi,” is all he can think to say before turning back to the street, “Nice wheels,” he says.

“Thanks, man,” says the one with the long braid, who picks up an apple from the stall and bites into it.

The little one steps forward and thrusts a hand out to Eddie, “I’m Gareth, that’s Jeff, Argyle and Jon, but most people know us by Hellfire. The Hellfire Motorcycle Club.” he says proudly, turning to show the painting on the back of his jacket of some kind of devil with a long forked tongue, surrounded by flames. Eddie nods at each of them in turn.

“So where you from then?” Jonny asks.

“Indiana,” Eddie answers with a smile.

“And you came to the windy city because….” Argyle asks, taking another bite out of his apple.

“I, uh,” Eddie glances at Steve, who gives him the slightest nod and smile, “I wanted to write,”

“What, you can’t write back home?” Jeff laughs, “What happened? They take away all the stationery in Indiana?”

Eddie laughs, “Uh, no. I mean, I want to be a writer, and I thought coming here would be more inspiring, you know?”

“How much does that pay then? Writin’?” Gareth says, curious as he picks up one of Eddie's drawings off the table, pulls an impressed face at it, and shrugs, passing it to Jeff.

“Oh, I dunno, honestly,”

“Doesn’t sound very secure,” Jeff frowns and passes the drawing to Argyle.

“What if you don't make it as a writer? You got a backup?” Argyle asks.

“I honestly haven't thought-”

“Got your own place?” Jeff asks quickly

“No, I live with my-”

“Hmmm, yeah, haven't thought about it, got it,” Johnny says, “You from a big family? You Italian?”

“No, and No, but-”

There is a collective groan from the motorcycle club.

“So whatcha sayin’ is you ain't gotta job or income or your own place, and you ain't even Italian?” Gareth laughs.

“Is that- Is that bad?” Eddie looks instinctively at Steve for reassurance due to the barrage of questions he is facing.

“But what are your views on fruit on pizza?” Argyle asks

“I don’t really eat a lot of-”

“You got a ride?” Eddie snaps his head to Gareth again and shakes his head.

“A girl?” Jeff asks as Eddie's head whips around to him, and he indicates negatively again.

“ALRIGHT, ALRIGHT, you shitbirds. That’s enough,” Steve shouts, and they fall to silence as he turns to Eddie, “ ‘Scuse us for a sec, Ed” he says apologetically, and the gang follow him inside.

Eddie decides to give them a wide berth and looks at something comforting. The motorcycles themselves. God, that was an absolute embarrassment. He could have been much cooler about it, especially with Steve there. Oh well. Eddie looks over briefly and can see them in the window in an intense discussion.

Gareth has a virtually brand new Honda Dream C71, two of them have different year versions of the BSA Bantam, and last of all, someone has his old bike, a 1950 Thunderbird. This one wasn’t customised to look like the one out of the movie like he’d done with his own, but there had been, what looked like, some abandoned attempts. He reaches out, runs his fingers along the gleaming paintwork, and quickly retracts them, remembering how touchy he’d been if anyone even looked at his bike for too long. Whoever this one belonged to took excellent care of it.

The bell ringing over the door gets him to his feet before anyone can startle him. Steve waves him over, “Ed, come ‘ere, da guys have somethin’ to say,” Eddie swallows nervously but tries to put on a slight air of confidence and smiles at them all.

Gareth tilts his head at Eddie, “So, we’s just wanted t’ say, we didn’t mean to make yous feel uncomfortable, OK? You’re just new, you know?”

“Yeah, yeah. I get it. No issues here,” he puts up his hands and takes a breath, “I was just looking at your bikes. They’re real neat.” He offers the verbal olive branch of changing the subject.

“You like motorcycles?” Steve asks a little oddly. He sort of sounds a little disappointed.

Eddie lies quickly, “I mean, my friend back home used to let me ride on the back of his sometimes. So I think they’re neat, is all.” Eddie cringes at his overuse of the word neat, like some little kid.

“He did?” Steve almost sounds slightly annoyed, but Eddie can’t determine why. Maybe it wasn’t the right thing to say.

“And this friend of yours,” Gareth says, tearing his eyes from Steve to land on Eddie, “You still talk to him?” 

Shit, what if they think he was involved in some rival gang or something, “No, we lost touch a little while before I decided I wanted to move here.” Eddie, desperate to ease the tension he seems to have created, smiles around the group, “Just different life paths, you know. It goes that way sometimes.” Steve returns his smile, and Eddie's heart almost packs its bags to move into Steve’s hands immediately.

“Also, sorry ‘bout that comment earlier regarding’ your job. Guys like us are happy with our feet on the ground, you know, and I forget sometimes the world needs people to shoot for the moon,” Gareth offers him a shrug of a smile, and he does seem genuine in his apology, but the way Steve nods at his friend, makes him think that maybe Steve had jumped to his defence in the store, and Eddie tries desperately not to grin wildly at that thought.

Steve's eyes cast up for a moment in thought and then move towards the ground before he checks his watch, “I’m sure I could borrow some wheels if you ever miss it,” Steve shrugs, lighting a cigarette, and all four heads of his friends snap to his words, “Ain’t dat right Jonny boy?”

“Yeah, course, Steve, she’s yours anyway,” Johnny quietly agrees.

“No, no. None a dat. It’d just be for today or whateva,” Steve smiles at Johnny and then Eddie, “Unless you got plans?”

“No, not at all. That’d be great. I’ll leave a note for Ma-my mom and be right back.” Eddie says excitedly and packs up his things.

“Hey Arg, can I ask you somethin’?” He hears Steve ask, and the five of them disappear into the store as he walks back to his apartment.

Thankfully, the coast looks clear, so he heads inside, leaves a cute note for his mama, and is about to leave again when he pauses and goes to the bathroom cabinet. Score! There was some cologne in here. As he picks it up, a piece of note paper falls out. He picks it up to put it back and notices it’s yellowing. His curiosity gets the better of him, so he opens it.

For my soulmate:

The most beautiful star in the world

Take me in your arms

Lead me in my dreams again

I'll sell my soul for it.

What is it worth? 

Only you know

Eddie quickly folds it back up, feeling a little embarrassed. It was probably something private of his mama’s.

He adds a few extra pins to his hat to keep it from flying clean off and grabs a warmer jacket.

As he leaves the building, a set of familiar voices make him sigh in exasperation.

“This ain’t Hellfire’s place, Jonny. So why don’t you just go back to riding Steve’s coattails, huh?” Billy snides.

“I don’t know how many times we gotta tell you three morons to leave people alone around here. And for your information, this building is the concern of Hellfire now. So what you wanna do is turn around and go and crawl back into the dumpster the three of you ghouls crawled out of,” Jon fires back, and inside, Eddie has to cover his mouth to stifle his laughter.

“Oh yeah, and what if we don’t care about Hellfire’s new rules from its new asshole of a leader?” Tommy seethes.

“Well, how can I put this? If you don’t, the matter is gonna get escalated, and then it’s gonna be out of our hands. So I suggest you just run along now, so no one has to get hurt,” Jon says calmly.

“Oh, I see how it is. You're recruiting this new guy, are ya?” Jason asks spitefully, but Jon just laughs in response.

“Well, you should know, he’s a fucking creep. Was sitting here drawing pictures of Nance and the two Harrington girls,” Billy offers, and Eddie feels sick to his stomach.

“Oh, was he?” Jon says, sounding almost intrigued.

“Sure was, bold as anything, ogling them,” Billy continues, and Eddie can almost see the sly grin on his face. He should just step out there before this gets worse.

“Thing is William. I actually have conversations with my girlfriend and actually have friends. So when Nancy told me about your performance here, she said Rob and Max told her he’d ended up at the store. I called Steve. And guess what, guys,” he says with sarcastic surprise, “He was just drawing the surroundings and saw them first. I’ve seen it, it’s terrific actually. Steve’s Ma has it hung up already, and most importantly, Nancy and the girls never had a problem with him. They, as per usual, just wanted to get away from you,” Eddie hears the venom in Jon’s voice and the rustle of his leather jacket, and he knows that shift in stance, so he steps outside to interrupt.

“Oh, hey, Jonny,” he smiles at Jon, which seems to defuse the situation. He turns to the others with a smile, nods, and walks down the stairs, “Gentlemen.”

As he and Jonny reach the bottom of the stairs, Billy calls out, “Nice to see you still resting on Steve’s hand-me-downs, Jon. First a jacket, then a bike, and then his girl. What next?” Billy and his goons laugh together.

And something about the judgement entirely rubs Eddie the wrong way, and he turns on his heel to face the three of them to say something. But then there is a hand on his shoulder, and Jonny calmly smiles, “Ooooh William, time to get some new material, maybe? You’ve been tellin’ the same joke for years now, and no one with more than one brain cell of their own has ever laughed at it. Come on, Ed. Let’s go,” he says, and they walk back to the store.

Once they are far enough away, Eddie dares ask, “You ok?”

“Yeah, don’t sweat those guys. They bark a lot, but only one has got any bite,” Jon stops before they get to the store, “Just try your best to ignore them, ok? Steve’s Ma don’t like ‘em anyway, and if you end up in a tussle with them, so will Steve, and then well…things will get escalated,” Jon looks at him seriously, “Steve’s a good guy. We don’t want him getting into any trouble, capiche?”

Eddie looks puzzled at him.

“Understand?” Jon tries again, and Eddie nods, “Also, what he said was true. Steve did give me his jacket and old motorcycle, but Nancy, that’s different. They were together but not, you know?” Jon says, and Eddie nods like he understands, but he doesn’t at all, not that it matters. “Anyway, you been enjoying your days at Heartbreak Hotel?” Jonny chuckles, and Eddie screws up his face in confusion.

“What do you mean?”

“You haven’t noticed?” Jon starts but reads the puzzled look on Eddie’s face quickly enough, “The constant stream of pretty girls that keep coming to the store for Steve but just end up leaving with groceries they probably didn’t need?” he laughs.

Eddie shakes his head, “I noticed it was busier today, but I was drawing, so I didn’t register who or anything.”

“Huh,” Jon half-smiles at him and looks him over, “Didn’t look up from your drawings all day?”

“Oh sure, when Steve was on his break,” Eddie says, understanding what he means now.

“But the rest of the time, not one single girl caught your eye?” Jon questions and Eddie begins to see how weird this might seem.

He fakes a laugh, “I just mean, I didn’t really engage with anyone else other than a glance. Number one, I didn’t really come here to date. It's not like I have much luck in that department, anyway. Chances are, if I make the whole writer thing, I stand a better chance, right? If I got tied down now, I’d have to get a job that paid me actual money for bills and dates instead of living off savings. My writing wouldn’t get a look in. And number two, drawing and looking at people only leads to trouble, or at least that’s what I’ve learned the last few weeks,” he pauses, “I’d really like to get the chance to apologise and explain to Nancy, Rob and Max sometime. Just so they know I’m not a creep.”

Jon puts his arm around Eddie’s shoulders and pulls him into his side, “You know Ed, I get the feeling you’re gonna get that chance,” Eddie is a bit weirded out by the physicality, but he doesn’t mind it. Jon lights up something that smells familiar to Eddie, but it’s not a cigarette, “If it’s any consolation, what I said was true. The girls didn’t move because of you. Nancy is pretty observant, so if she had felt threatened by you looking at them, she would have moved them all on someplace else.” He adds as they walk to the outside of the store.

The bell above the door rings as they step in front of it, and Steve skips a step or two on his way out and looks between him and Jonny, “You sure made friends fast,” Steve says with a huff of a laugh.

“He’s just a likeable guy, Steve,” Johnny says, giving Eddie a pat on the back.

“He is, ain’t he?” Steve says kindly,  half-smiles and then quickly looks at the bike, “Ready, Ed?”

“Yeah, yeah. Absolutely,” Eddie claps his hands together and is glad for this moment of waiting for Steve to get situated on the bike first because Steve looks gorgeous. That is just the facts. He’s beautiful and kind, and that is more than enough. But he’s looking exceedingly handsome right now. He’s traded his regular footwear for some engineer-type boots, and his hair is combed back into a place a little more, but the jacket is really causing Eddie a problem. It was style-wise just an ordinary leather biker jacket. Except this one was a mid-brown colour that seemed to make the colour of his eyes even more entrancing somehow. Like they were no longer merely functional parts of a human being but impossible, magical orbs that might turn him completely to stone if he looked directly into them. The leather is well-worn but not damaged, just lots of lines of use. The stitching is elegant, and he’s flicked his collar up against the cold.  As he sits on the bike, he fusses with it.

“Guess I’m not as small as I used to be,” he huffs out a small self-deprecating laugh, and Eddie doesn't miss that divine blush that just hits his cheeks. There is no way Steve should feel any less than the most stunning thing on the planet. Not on his watch.

“I couldn’t even tell. Looks like a perfect fit to me. It’s real nice,” Eddie says as he swings his leg over the bike to sit behind Steve, and this already feels like a mistake. Being this close. If the visuals were not enough to send him off into orbit, the smell of leather and Steve’s cologne was a heady love potion on their own.

Steve looks over his shoulder, “Thanks. Uh, you haven't even asked where we are goin’.” 

“You haven’t steered me wrong this far,” Eddie says, trying not to grin back wildly, placing his hands on his own legs. He sits back to create a suitable distance between them, but there are some things he can’t prevent, like the way his knees have to sit on either side of Steve’s hips. It makes him violently jealous of maybe all the past girls who had sat in this seat before him but were able to wrap their arms around him. Rest their heads against his back, maybe even hear his heart beat fiercely for them as they ride off into a perfect sunset.

The journey itself is pleasant. Eddie sees parts of the city he hasn't seen before whizz past him, and due to the steady speed Steve is going, he can fully enjoy the wind occasionally rushing against him as he lets go and doesn't fight the bike with his body in the turns. He thinks about all the times he’d ride at night just to feel the wind rushing through his longer hair under the moon's light.

They stop near a park and dismount. Eddie looks around the vast park in wonderment. Sure, Hawkins had the woods, the lake and the quarry, but this place was so curated.

Steve walks a little ahead of him, does a full turn with his arms outstretched, and shouts, “Welcome to Lincoln Park, Eddie,” he flashes a huge smile as he waits for him to catch up. Eddie can’t even imagine being this proud of Hawkins if their roles had been reversed.

“So, um, what are we doin’ here?” Eddie asks as they stroll along together.

“We’re going to look at what I’ve been told is da most inspirin’ thing in d’ world,” Steve smirks mischievously, and Eddie can’t help but glance over as his heart flutters in his chest at the thought that Steve is such a good person, he’s trying to cure Eddie’s lack of inspiration, “Stars.”

The word jolts Eddie out of his daydream as Steve slows to stop outside a large building, “But it’s nearly two in the afternoon. We can’t see the stars.” Eddie responds, confused.

“Oh yeah, dats right. Well, I guess seein’ as we’re here anyways, I could show you some other weird stuff?” Steve says with a shrug.

“Weird stuff?” Eddie scrunches his nose in bewilderment, but the smile doesn’t leave him.

“Come on, Ed. Live a little. It’s a super scary museum,” Steve jokes, wiggling his fingers at Eddie. 

“I’m not scared,” Eddie says, putting his hands on his hips.

“Oh yeah?” Steve smirks.

“Yeah!” Eddie says defiantly and walks past Steve into the massive building alone.

Apparently, it's the Chicago Academy of Sciences, and the science Eddie had stumbled into was zoology. Around him are many wooden glass-fronted cases of various sizes, all showcasing animal life. Some exhibits were tiny things containing bugs, others were great dioramas of an era or a setting, and then there was the set of large bones that towered over the place belonging to a mammoth.

Eddie doesn't think he’s ever seen anything like it in his life. He can only stand there and gawk at everything because he doesn't know where to go first.

“Pretty neat, huh?” Steve says as his arm envelops Eddie’s shoulders, walking him around the virtually empty place.

“Neat is one word for it sure,” Eddie tries to say as calmly as he can, but he hears how soft it emerges from his mouth, not like he could help it when he's pulled into Steve’s side like this.

Steve’s free hand waves out in front of them across the room as the other grips his shoulder, “‘Dis place, Ed, I thought it might help ya out, ya know? If you wanna create a monster, all da references are right here, ain't dey?”

Eddie knows that all that is holding him back from fully embracing Steve and his kindness right there and then is prison, death and losing maybe the best friend he’s ever had. Why did he care so much about Eddie’s dreams? Didn’t he have one of his own?

“Wanna play a game, Ed?” Steve asks, turning his head to him, and Eddie can only reflect the radiant smile being beamed at him. A lowly mortal in the presence of the embodiment of the sun itself.

Steve checks his watch quickly, “Ok, we got ten minutes to run around here, find an animal, pick a part of it, and draw it roughly, or write it down.” he fishes in his leather jacket pocket and pulls out some paper scraps and a pencil each, “Den, we switch animals, got it?” 

“Um, why are we only drawing bits of the animals?” Eddie laughs as he takes the items from Steve.

“Creatin’ monsters, o’course!” Steve shouts as someone shushes him, and he gives Eddie’s shoulder a final squeeze before running off towards a deer. 

Eddie’s legs feel like they won't budge, or maybe he’s afraid of walking in case they buckle beneath him. He’s sure if he doesn’t soon, he’ll become an exhibit himself.

Lovesick Homosapian 1959 - Donated by S. Harrington.

He walks to the nearest exhibit and starts making a rough sketch of the body of a stag beetle. It's a very minimal sketch because, try as he might to keep focussed on the task at hand, he can’t help but keep looking over at Steve, who is adorably crouched, resting the paper on his thigh to draw. His tongue pressed between his lips, and his brow furrowed in concentration. Steve must sense his stare and turns toward him, “Done already?” he grins and indicates they trade places.

By the end of the ten minutes, they crowd next to one another to pour over the results. They both have some fascinating creatures on their pages, made with elements of beetle, deer, squirrel and flamingo elements.

Eddie went for the body of the beetle, the multiple legs of the deer, the two heads of a flamingo, the arms of a squirrel and the tail.

Steve’s was…well…it was kinda cute, even though it was still weird-looking. The legs of a flamingo, the body of a squirrel, the head of the deer and the wings of the beetle. It’s also quite impressive for someone Eddie has never seen draw. He hadn't even mentioned it. Then Eddie realises he never really asked either.

“Wow, I really like your one,” Eddie enthuses over Steve’s drawing.

“Ya do?” Steve says excitedly, and his face looks almost like he’d been waiting his whole life to hear it, but the expression fades as quickly as it appears. Steve shakes his head and looks down with a laugh, “Ah, ya got me. Good one.”

“I’m not kidding. I do like yours better.” Eddie says, pulling the drawing towards himself from under Steve’s fingers. “Though it doesn’t seem very monstrous. Seems kinda sweet, honestly.” Eddie teases and turns to his friend, whose sweet brown eyes are waiting to cut off his breath, and tries to refashion it into a sigh, which somehow Eddie manages to swallow down, and turns back to Steve’s drawing, rolls it up like a scroll and puts it in his inside breast pocket, “Seems only fair, you already have one of mine.” 

Steve doesn't say anything, just keeps that gentle smile on his face as he lightly tugs Eddie’s elbow to follow him, but sadly doesn't keep hold of it.

Steve stops outside a huge, tilted back, painted, partial globe. Protruding from it is a rectangular box with seats in it. At a complete loss, Eddie turns to Steve, who looks at Eddie from the corner of his eye, looking pleased, but says nothing.

An elderly man approaches them, and his face lights up, “Steve?!”

“Da very same,” Steve answers happily.

“I haven't seen you in a while. Everything ok?” He says, coming forward to kiss Steve on each cheek, and his eyes fall on Eddie, “Nice to meet you, welcome to the-”

“No. Don't tell him,” Steve quickly interjects, “It's a surprise. He’s not from here.”

“Oh, ok, no problem.” The man opens the door to the rectangular type box, steps inside and seats himself, and waves them in.

Steve nods towards it and goes in next. Eddie follows him inside. As he sits down next to Steve, he barely has time to enjoy the sensation of brushing arms with him when the whole thing starts whirring and the box they are sitting in starts moving into the orb, and as they do, the globe begins to close over them, until they are plunged into complete darkness.

And that's when Eddie starts to see them, the stars.

The machine whirs, and the sky turns, allowing them to see more constellations. And Eddie is entirely in awe even lets out an audible gasp a few times, causing Steve and the greying gent to snicker. But Eddie couldn’t care less. Here he was basking in a marvel, the ability to see the stars any time of day, irrespective of weather, and this was all happening due to the incredible man shuffled up next to him. A feeling of disappointed acceptance begins to gnaw at him and threatens his unabashed joy. He’d found this amazing person who goes to such lengths to help him with something that most people would find trivial, yet he could never have him as his own.

He’s glad it's dark in here, so Steve can't see the frown that sets onto Eddie’s forehead as he thinks about how furious society makes him, that it asks him to be kind and loving but be tough and never show emotion. Asks him to show love freely, but only in the confines of heterosexuality. Tells him to take his time to appreciate the world around him but forces him to hurry along and keep his head down.

Steve shuffles next to him, breaking him out of his momentary lousy mood, and reminds him that whilst he can’t have everything he wants, he can capture moments like this and keep them for his own forever, and no one could take those away from him.

The machine whirs again, and light fills the space as they exit the contraption, “The Atwood Sphere,” The greying gent says as they leave, looking amused at them before waving them goodbye.

Eddie clears his throat, “That was amazing! Did you come here a lot as a kid?”

“Yeah, and no. My pa used to bring us here after he’d come home after da war. The navy used dat for training navigation, ya know.” Steve replies.

Eddie feels the question on his tongue but is frightened to ask, so he rephrases it, “What an incredible thing to share with your Pa. Bet he knew a lot about the stars and things like that?”

“Oh sure, yeah. Wish I could remember more of da stories he told us dat lived in the night sky.” Steve says a little quieter, “Did your pa do the same?”

Eddie chuckles to lighten the mood a little, “Couldn’t shut up my dad up. He had a story for everything. Especially if it had anything to do with my mama.”

“A romantic, was he?” Steve chuckles, and it's like music to Eddie’s ears.

“That is an understatement. Pa’s crazy about her.” 

“Yeah?” Steve asks curiously.

“Oh yeah, think I found a piece of his poetry to her earlier,” Eddie smiles and glances at Steve for his reaction. To see if he frowns or ridicules at the softness of a man towards his wife, but Steve only smiles and nods.

“What was it about?” Steve happily asks.

“Something about a star and a soul,” Eddie tries to remember, and Steve hums as they walk. They enjoy the quiet for a few steps outside the building before he continues, “You ever heard the story about soulmates?”

Steve turns to him and raises an eyebrow, “No.”

“Well, in the legend. Humans originally had four arms, four legs and a head with two faces. They had started to become quite powerful and threatened to rule over the gods, and Zeus didn't much like that at all. The gods were gonna wipe out the humans completely, but they needed the humans to offer tributes, so they had to come up with something else,” Eddie clasps his hands in front of him, “So they decided to split humans in half as a punishment, to remind them of their place, and at the same time would double the tributes offered.”

“But wouldn’t dat make twice as many humans to rise up against them?” Steve asks curiously, and the fact that he’s actually been listening makes Eddie put a little more performance into the story. Jogs a few steps ahead of Steve and animatedly tells the rest while walking backwards.

“Well, it should have, except for one thing. The humans were miserable, and without their other half, they didn't care if they lived or not. Also making their tributes dwindle,” he stops dead in his steps with a finger in the air, and Steve does too with surprise-widened eyes. Seemingly fascinated in the tale, “But Apollo hated seeing them this way, so he sewed them up, leaving them one physical reminder of their true original form. The humans never quite rose up like that again because even though they were healed, they still longed for their other half, not just their body, but the other half of the soul too.” Eddie finishes with a flourish of his hand and a bow. Immediately after which, he regrets it. This was the part of him he’d been trying to keep under wraps. Showing off was his old self, not this one. But he hears the one thing most performers can’t resist. Applause.

Steve is smiling and clapping his hands, and Eddie feels the heat rise to his cheeks as he turns around and falls into step next to Steve, “So yeah, that's the legend about soulmates.”

“I hadn’t heard dat before. Thanks,” Steve says as they approach the gleaming Thunderbird. He turns and looks curiously at Eddie, “Say, you wanna take us home?”

“I, um, I don’t even-” Eddie starts to lie.

“I don’t think dats true at all. I think you can ride, and I think you had a bike like dis one,” Steve says with smug confidence.

“How did-” Eddie tries to ask, a little flabbergasted.

“Well, because I used to talk to your ma a lot when she worked on things at da store and apartment for us,” Steve laughs but doesn't seem mad that Eddie lied, “You ain’t gotta be anyone else but you ‘round me, Ed. We’re good. Everyone’s gotta past.” 

Eddie realises that perhaps he isn’t just accepting the version of Eddie from before, but also he was inviting Eddie to accept him too. Clearly, he wasn’t just randomly friends with a motorcycle gang, and he didn’t just magically have a bike lying around to give to Jonny. And with what Jonny had said, there was more than just a bunch of kids watching out for Steve.

“Sure,” Eddie smiles, “Sorry,” he adds an apology, and Steve nods, tossing him the keys, which Eddie fumbles to catch as they almost drop to the floor.

Eddie sits at the front of the bike and barely has a few seconds to enjoy the feeling of the handlebars under his grip because Steve is already clambering on behind him, and he has to brace his legs and lean his own weight against Steves to keep the balance. Not that he minds in any way. It's clear Steve is not accustomed to being the passenger as he struggles to get seated, using Eddie as a supportive climbing frame. 

“All set?” Eddie asks as he looks over his shoulder to see a glimpse of Steve, who gives him a thumbs up. But as he turns his glance back to the road ahead, he sees how Steve's thicker thighs are at his sides, and he’s elected to put his hands on his knees and a glimmer of mischief enters Eddie’s mind as he starts up the bike.

He pulls away much too quickly on purpose and feels Steve's large hands grip his waist, “Uh, sorry about that. I’m a bit rusty,” he shouts back as he slows down. Steve’s hands release him but come back to smooth over his jacket where he’d latched on and shuffles forward slightly. 

The city looks different as the sun sets on it, bathing it in both the last remnants of its glow and the coolness of approaching dusk. It feels almost like the city is waking up for its second shift as more lights from homes and signs begin to illuminate as they travel. It should be calming, but that is impossible due to the rate at which his heart is racing.

Eddie can barely breathe when he feels Steve’s legs squeeze around him as he moves, and the mix of his body heat and Steve’s almost makes him feel like he might overheat. But rather than panic, he tries to relax into it, as occasionally Steve leans forward gently to point out the turning he needs to take. It makes Eddie wish it wasn’t just a primarily straight road going home because every time they come to a turning, Steve would extend one arm out to indicate, and his other would rest against Eddie somewhere. His hip, his waist or shoulder, and each one comes with surging electricity of magic that pours through the threads of the fabric of his clothes, seeps into his skin and makes his heart and soul spin like characters on a carousel along to the music of Steve’s occasional laugh when Eddie takes a corner too tightly or pulls away from a light quickly.

Sooner than he’d like, they are nearing home, and Steve points towards Eddie’s apartment, “You sure?” Eddie shouts.

“Yeah!” Steve affirms, and Eddie pulls up outside the apartment building.

They stand near the bike for a while, and it feels familiar. And he knows it's not. It could never be, but it looks a lot like all those times he’d dropped girls off at their houses after taking them on a date. Except he’s not in his usual role. Regret swirls as he thinks about all or any of those girls that might have felt like he does right now, as he looks at Steve smiling back at him from the bike.

Almost like he can read his mind, Steve tilts his head curiously. “Can I ask you somethin’ Ed?” 

“Yeah. Yeah, sure,” Eddie blurts out as he is dragged out of his thoughts.

“Dat story you told me earlier. ‘Bout da soulmates. You didn’t say what happens when dey find each other.” Steve asks, looking at Eddie but toying with one of the zippers on his jacket, “Or don't dey?”

“Oh well, my pa said that there is no escape,” Eddie laughs gently, “They are drawn together over time, and when they finally do meet. They just know. Like their souls do all the understanding for them, so they don't have to work it out. They’ll feel whole and happy. Like the happiest they ever felt, kinda thing.”

“I like dat,” Steve smiles hugely, “See ya tomorrow, Ed,” he says with a two-finger wave and starts up the bike to ride back home.

Eddie watches him ride the short distance away, and suddenly, the chill in the air makes itself known. He huddles his jacket around himself and climbs the stairs to the doors of the building before turning back to watch as his waiting friends swarm Steve outside the store. His laughter on the breeze makes Eddie smile again, and he finally turns to go inside.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Some extra bits of info if you are interested:

Notes: The Building they visited was the Chicago Academy of Sciences in Lincoln Park https://naturemuseum.org/explore/history/

The Atwood Sphere was based in this building until 1997 when it was moved to the Adler Planetarium.

[madaboutmunson]

Sweet Home Chicago Series (Summary Post)

Week 1 | Week 2 | Week 3 | Week 4 | Week 5

So this is a little AU that was inspired by the picture below of Joe Keery from the Style Magazine Italia photoshoot.

The setting is 1959 Chicago, Little Italy.

In this AU you’ll see Steddie have pretty different lives to the AU’s I normally write.

Steve isn't the sad, rich, lonely only child he normally is.

Eddie is turning over a new leaf and his parents are relatively ok.

I chose 1959, not because of the show canon connection but rather because of the style at that particular turn of the decade.

These are my versions of them I made for my own reference, and yours if you want an idea of how I see them.

I don't think there are any warnings on this one, but if you spot anything you think should be flagged up as a warning, please let me know and I will add it straight away.

I decided to use it as my setting for @eddiemonth, and am aiming for one fic per week, with a selection of the week’s prompts to be included.

It’s going to be a lot of wholesome fluff, honestly, and I hope you like it 🙂 Week 1 | Week 2 | Week 3 | Week 4 | Week 5