[ there is something about seeing eddie soften that curls, almost dangerously, in steve's chest. or, maybe it's not curling necessarily, but unfurling. loosening something that had been intentionally wedged tight. eddie's frown eases and the lines in his face are a little less defined, his eyes on steve while steve's are back on his.
the sound of his laugh is nice, it's a reminder, even if there is a dark tint to it that steve wishes he could reach across and rub away, like film across a window pane. i wouldn't call it sleeping, steve and steve can't help the way his face does break into something of a self deprecating smile. because yeah, yeah, okay. it's dark, it's kind of edged, but it's true - neither of them are really sleeping, are they? and maybe losing a battle is a sort of over exasperated, dramatic way of putting it, but it's so very eddie that steve can't help but get wrapped up in it. ]
Yeah, yeah, alright. [ and eddie's right, because of course he is. they can't always run from this, they can't always run from everything, and sometimes in those late nights when steve is trying his damnedest just to turn his brain off, it feels a little bit like running.
there is a moment where steve almost tries to make a joke of it, to match pace with eddie's sardonic laugh, to say something about how he bets eddie munson never could have imagined talking about shared nightmares on the floor of steve harrington's guest room. but before he has the chance to open his mouth, eddie's already talking again, saying still there and if you hadn't come from me and sorry and any of steve's smile, any of the humor he'd been holding on to because eddie had offered it to the space between them, slips away. instead, steve just finds himself back to looking at the other boy again. really looking.
steve drops one of his legs flat to the carpet, reaching it over so that his foot pushes at eddie's. he doesn't know why that is what he goes with. why he feels a very sudden need to just have some point of contact, and how that contact can obviously only be shared in a sort of shove, but steve...he doesn't know. he just needs to. ]
Dude. [ because that was the purpose, wasn't it? to get eddie's attention back from whatever thoughts he just lost himself in. to pull him back to this moment, in the semi-dark, while they're sitting on the floor together. and steve...when he speaks next, it's with a kind of exhausted honesty. something he doesn't even try to filter, no matter how vulnerable, or honest, or direct it comes out. ] It can feel that way sometimes, sure, but you're out of the Upside Down, you're never going back. And if for whatever weird, insane, impossible reason you did end up back there, I would go back in there again to get you back. However many times it took. Okay? [ because that's the easier part, and steve - with one leg still outstretched so that his foot is pushed up against eddie's calf and steve's arms still crossed over his chest - smiles, in that exhausted sort of way, as his head falls back against the bedside table. lets his eyes fall closed. ] And if anything, going back in there to get you made my nightmares better, not worse. So don't...don't apologize for any of that.
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the sound of his laugh is nice, it's a reminder, even if there is a dark tint to it that steve wishes he could reach across and rub away, like film across a window pane. i wouldn't call it sleeping, steve and steve can't help the way his face does break into something of a self deprecating smile. because yeah, yeah, okay. it's dark, it's kind of edged, but it's true - neither of them are really sleeping, are they? and maybe losing a battle is a sort of over exasperated, dramatic way of putting it, but it's so very eddie that steve can't help but get wrapped up in it. ]
Yeah, yeah, alright. [ and eddie's right, because of course he is. they can't always run from this, they can't always run from everything, and sometimes in those late nights when steve is trying his damnedest just to turn his brain off, it feels a little bit like running.
there is a moment where steve almost tries to make a joke of it, to match pace with eddie's sardonic laugh, to say something about how he bets eddie munson never could have imagined talking about shared nightmares on the floor of steve harrington's guest room. but before he has the chance to open his mouth, eddie's already talking again, saying still there and if you hadn't come from me and sorry and any of steve's smile, any of the humor he'd been holding on to because eddie had offered it to the space between them, slips away. instead, steve just finds himself back to looking at the other boy again. really looking.
steve drops one of his legs flat to the carpet, reaching it over so that his foot pushes at eddie's. he doesn't know why that is what he goes with. why he feels a very sudden need to just have some point of contact, and how that contact can obviously only be shared in a sort of shove, but steve...he doesn't know. he just needs to. ]
Dude. [ because that was the purpose, wasn't it? to get eddie's attention back from whatever thoughts he just lost himself in. to pull him back to this moment, in the semi-dark, while they're sitting on the floor together. and steve...when he speaks next, it's with a kind of exhausted honesty. something he doesn't even try to filter, no matter how vulnerable, or honest, or direct it comes out. ] It can feel that way sometimes, sure, but you're out of the Upside Down, you're never going back. And if for whatever weird, insane, impossible reason you did end up back there, I would go back in there again to get you back. However many times it took. Okay? [ because that's the easier part, and steve - with one leg still outstretched so that his foot is pushed up against eddie's calf and steve's arms still crossed over his chest - smiles, in that exhausted sort of way, as his head falls back against the bedside table. lets his eyes fall closed. ] And if anything, going back in there to get you made my nightmares better, not worse. So don't...don't apologize for any of that.