[ that might be it. compartmentalizing. steve's always been good at that, whether it was the long lasting friendship with tommy h or the complicated and tense dinner conversations between his mom and dad, to the weeks on end he'd be left alone, sometimes without warning, because of course he has a car. he can get where he needs to go. there's dinner on the table for food the credit card for emergencies, and then...that was that. it was something steve hadn't even been that aware he was good at until all this shit started going down, until he saw nancy unable to do it, crumbling under its weight.
but they had to carry on. they had to keep going. steve had to, for dustin if no one else. and now for eddie, it seemed, who steve almost thought he caught half moments where the last week tried to catch up to them both. eddie, who had just died, and who steve was now apparently setting up in his guest room and who steve would have to tell dustin, and robin, and nancy about at some point and-
eddie, who for some reason, despite the one being nearly ripped in half and stumbling up the stairs, keeps making steve almost laugh. keeps bringing him out of his thoughts when they get heaviest. eddie, who steps into the guest room and looks so wholly out of place and steve who likes it. likes it more than he probably should. the dark clothes, the blood, just him, who would never otherwise be here, but who is. ] Eh, I think so? Something about cold water and hydrogen peroxide or something. I'll call her to make sure, but-
[ and however it is the timing works, steve is turning back just in time to see eddie's breath catch. he's already out of the bandana, out of the vest, and had - steve assumes - been going for the jacket when something went wrong. and the worst part is, steve doesn't even hesitate to ask what, to make sure eddie can do it himself, because in a manner of moments he's right back to him, hands on the jacket, muttering something like- ] Stop, you're going to- here, just put your arms down, let me help. [ steve remembers the feeling, of those bites. of those claw marks. he remembers how his entire body had been sore, torn apart. how even now it feels like he's not quite back together. and eddie's? eddie's were so much worse, punctured through his vest and jacket and shirt, shreds taken from his sides. half a pound of flesh. ] I'm not a doctor, so I can't sew you back together if you rip things open, just. Put your arms out. [ they're simple directions, gentle but firm. bossy, probably, just as bossy as he's been this whole night, but it feels good to kind of have an idea of what he's doing. of what they're doing.
steve's hands are gentle as he slowly, carefully, goes to peel the jacket off and keep aware if it's catching on anything else. and, by doing so, it gives steve his first real look at the damage, at everything, and it stills his hands for a moment because all he can really do is stare. ]
no subject
but they had to carry on. they had to keep going. steve had to, for dustin if no one else. and now for eddie, it seemed, who steve almost thought he caught half moments where the last week tried to catch up to them both. eddie, who had just died, and who steve was now apparently setting up in his guest room and who steve would have to tell dustin, and robin, and nancy about at some point and-
eddie, who for some reason, despite the one being nearly ripped in half and stumbling up the stairs, keeps making steve almost laugh. keeps bringing him out of his thoughts when they get heaviest. eddie, who steps into the guest room and looks so wholly out of place and steve who likes it. likes it more than he probably should. the dark clothes, the blood, just him, who would never otherwise be here, but who is. ] Eh, I think so? Something about cold water and hydrogen peroxide or something. I'll call her to make sure, but-
[ and however it is the timing works, steve is turning back just in time to see eddie's breath catch. he's already out of the bandana, out of the vest, and had - steve assumes - been going for the jacket when something went wrong. and the worst part is, steve doesn't even hesitate to ask what, to make sure eddie can do it himself, because in a manner of moments he's right back to him, hands on the jacket, muttering something like- ] Stop, you're going to- here, just put your arms down, let me help. [ steve remembers the feeling, of those bites. of those claw marks. he remembers how his entire body had been sore, torn apart. how even now it feels like he's not quite back together. and eddie's? eddie's were so much worse, punctured through his vest and jacket and shirt, shreds taken from his sides. half a pound of flesh. ] I'm not a doctor, so I can't sew you back together if you rip things open, just. Put your arms out. [ they're simple directions, gentle but firm. bossy, probably, just as bossy as he's been this whole night, but it feels good to kind of have an idea of what he's doing. of what they're doing.
steve's hands are gentle as he slowly, carefully, goes to peel the jacket off and keep aware if it's catching on anything else. and, by doing so, it gives steve his first real look at the damage, at everything, and it stills his hands for a moment because all he can really do is stare. ]
Shit, Munson. [ eloquent, he knows. ]