[ drug dealing eddie munson should know just how much more plausible whatever shit steve's been stashing in his bedroom. eddie munson should know how insane it is to think that anything like this would work. eddie munson, who steve still sees every time he closes his eyes. eddie munson, who died to protect the rest of them. who dustin hasn't stopped talking about. who was a hero, who didn't need to die that way, and who steve can't even bring himself to hope is the one he's talking to because he doesn't know if he can survive the disappointment if he's wrong.

so instead, steve doesn't let himself get that far, settling instead of just telling himself to breathe. to wait. to watch the light and to shake his head when he starts feeling himself not blink because he doesn't want to miss a response.

and then the response comes. tap tap. two. yes. yes, someone heard. yes, someone was talking back. steve, filled with a kind of manic relief and excitement akin to when they figured this out before, pumps his fists a bit ridiculously, a yes! just sort of yelled out.

( he doesn't worry about the neighbors, considering the parties and music and noises that have come from back here. ) ]

Okay! Okay! Yes, that worked. You can hear me. [ steve grins, despite himself, looking around. he knows he won't see anyone there, but he keeps checking, keeps thinking that maybe this will be different, and when it isn't he comes back to the lamp. ] Holy shit. [ how is this even possible? and then- ] Who are you? Wait- [ he moves to sit on the chair again, collapsing into something of a heap, still facing the lamp. he needs to simplify this - yes or no questions. ] Okay, I don't have...a better way of doing this. This is going to have to work. Two for yes, one for no, okay?

[ and yes, steve will wait for an answer before he continues, his heart beating so loudly he can barely hear his voice. ]

Do we know each other?