[ surrounded by the handful of people who had experienced hawkin’s dark underbelly far more times than anyone should, it was difficult not to feel like he had to catch up. meanwhile, the rest had approached all that had happened, all that kept happening with the sort of tenacious pragmatism that had inspired awe. meanwhile, all eddie had done was run, and hide. while the others had filled him in enough - it had been condensed, of course, and eddie couldn’t even begin to imagine the things left unsaid. there was something disquieting about wheeler keeping guns, plural, in her bedroom. something disquieting about how easily steve dove in, head first, straight into dark water. although he was starting to suspect that was steve harrington in a nutshell. there were things that spoke volumes about them all, nearly as much as it did about him.
although, he should feel like he proved something, in the end. proved something to himself, but all he can think about, when he stills a moment, is the snotty, teary look on dustin’s face and the inexplicable disbelief that it was for him.
eddie holds his breath when his first answer brings about quiet. he squints, as though he can hear the gears turning and his fist pumps up in the air when steve says exactly what he meant. success!
2 taps, very quick, shoved as answer to something that was probably a rhetorical question (kind of a stupid question, huh? but: ] Yeah, Harrington, no shit, [but it’s accompanied by a nervous laugh, by the sheer absurdity of this, by his premature relief.
the next guess makes him frown. red? why was steve guessing max mayfield next? did something happen? eddie waits an appropriate beat, and taps a single time: no. ]
no subject
although, he should feel like he proved something, in the end. proved something to himself, but all he can think about, when he stills a moment, is the snotty, teary look on dustin’s face and the inexplicable disbelief that it was for him.
eddie holds his breath when his first answer brings about quiet. he squints, as though he can hear the gears turning and his fist pumps up in the air when steve says exactly what he meant. success!
2 taps, very quick, shoved as answer to something that was probably a rhetorical question (kind of a stupid question, huh? but: ] Yeah, Harrington, no shit, [but it’s accompanied by a nervous laugh, by the sheer absurdity of this, by his premature relief.
the next guess makes him frown. red? why was steve guessing max mayfield next? did something happen? eddie waits an appropriate beat, and taps a single time: no. ]