There is a knock at Steve Harrington’s door.
Three to be exact.
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
It’s nothing new. This happens every night. It doesn’t make it any less terrifying.
Steve gets out of bed and walks over to his apartment door, hands hovering over the handle. His body shakes, he feels too cold for a July evening.
Steve doesn’t bother looking out of the peephole. He knows there will be nothing to see. He hopes briefly it’s the awkward girl from down the hall, she always wears beat up converse and can hear her raspy laugh two doors down—but he knows it’s not. She often speeds by Steve’s apartment door, like she’s either terrified of him or what’s inside his home.
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
Three knocks, three times. It’s only number two.
Steve wishes he knew more people here, but he hasn’t been here very long. So no one is looking for him, no one is here to wake him up at 3 am.
His palm sweat—but the chill hasn’t left him. He’s starting to think he’s haunted. Though nothing ever happens inside. Nothing happens at all, except the knocking. Steve never dares to open until it’s finished.
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
Steve takes a deep breath, and opens the door….
No one is there.
Releasing a stuttering breath, Steve gently locks up and puts his head on then door.
“Fuck.” He whispers.
Then he hears, it from his bedroom.
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
Steve’s let something inside.
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Eddie had heard plenty of stories about Steve losing fights.
He had the concussions to prove it.
But what Eddie saw with his own two eyes was far more impressive than whatever version of Steve had let Jonathan Byers and Billy Hargrove win.
He’d seen how quick he was to defend the kids, defend Nancy and Robin, even defend Eddie when he barely knew him. He’d thrown himself head first into the mix, nail bat in hand or not.
So when Eddie asked about it, Steve shrugged it off.
“Everyone loses fights.”
Sure, everyone does. But he’s seen Steve win against literal alternate dimension monsters.
No way a human teenage boy or two could be harder to beat.
But he let it go. If Steve insisted on it being a couple of genuine losses, so be it.
But Eddie doesn’t let things go. Especially not when it comes to Steve.
“I guess I just don’t understand how you lost to Jonathan. I mean had he ever even been in a fight before?”
“No. But neither had I.”
“But you should’ve won that fight with no effort. No offense to Jonathan, but he’s scrawny and doesn’t even punch right.”
“I don’t know. Why are you so hung up on this?”
Well, because this wasn’t simple. Eddie could tell Steve was hiding something, he just didn’t know what.
“I guess because no one else ever asked you.”
Steve stared at him, probably trying to figure out how to avoid answering.
“No one seems to ever ask you about you.”
Steve looked down at the floor.
“They don’t need to.”
“You deserve to have people care. So I’m gonna care for now and then I’m gonna have a chat with your idiot kids about relational reciprocity.”
“What?”
“They have to show they care about you as much as you care about them. That’s kind of the deal with friendship.”
“Oh.”
Oh? Did Steve genuinely not know that?
Jesus Christ.
“So?”
“I think I just wasn’t good at fighting.”
“Nah. That’s not it.”
Eddie could see Steve thinking.
When he finally spoke, he wasn’t making eye contact. Eddie reached his hand out towards his face, cupping his chin and lifting his face so he had to look at him.
“Try again, Stevie.”
Steve took in a shaky breath.
“I wasn’t good at fighting for me.”
Eddie nodded. “Why’s that?”
“Just didn’t seem like I deserved to win. I deserved the hits I got.”
“Why?”
“Because I was awful. I said shitty things or did shitty things. Or with Billy, I knew I had to let him take it out on me and I guess I thought I deserved it. I dunno.”
“Mm.”
He released Steve’s chin, watching as his head dropped back down and he seemed to curl in on himself.
Eddie couldn’t allow that to happen.
So he pulled Steve into his lap, smirking to himself just a little when he let out a yelp of surprise at the manhandling.
“So all this time, you’ve put your body and mind and future on the line for everyone else without a second thought, but when you had to protect yourself and only yourself, it’s not worth the effort? Am I understanding correctly?”
Steve didn’t respond, but then again, Eddie hadn’t really expected him to. He was too busy hiding his face in Eddie’s chest.
“That’s what I thought. So who taught you that you’re not worth fighting for? Who told you that anything you’ve done wrong should be considered a debt owed to whoever wanted to raise their fists? Who made you believe that your mistakes could only be absolved if you let them get punched out of you?”
Steve was crying; He could feel the cold wetness seeping through his shirt.
“You tell me who it was and I’ll make sure they know how it feels to lose a fight.”
“Just me.”
“I don’t think that’s true.”
He let Steve sit with the words for a few minutes before speaking again.
“You did some not great things as a teenager, as many teenagers tend to do. Have you seen the way Mike talks to people? He’s a shithead. But do you think he deserves to get concussed from a punch to the temple?”
Steve shook his head.
“Dustin gets an attitude anytime we don’t immediately bend to his will and calls us names all the time. Do you think he deserves to get a plate smashed over his head?”
“Of course not.”
Steve’s voice was quiet.
“You have more than made up for any mistakes you may have made in the past, even without the punches being thrown at you. If I have to tell you that you deserve to be treated with kindness and respect every day, then I fucking will. Hear me?”
“Hear you.”
Steve was staring at Eddie, tears still silently and rapidly falling down his cheeks.
Eddie wiped them away and gave him a small smile.
“You have no idea how special you are. But that’s gonna change.”
“Okay.”
Eddie placed a kiss on his forehead before he wrangled him against his chest again, moving his legs so he could relax completely.
“Just relax, okay? I got you. You’re worth protecting.” Eddie sighed softly. “You’re worth everything.”
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