it’s dark. it’s so impossibly dark, inky and deep and silence embodied and it isn't at all like the fires of mount doom coming to claim him. eddie stands in the midst of nothing, and the void-like depth ripples like water underfoot. he doesn’t remember the how or the why and there’s blood on his hands and in his hair and he doesn’t feel real.
no! — a girl’s voice travels through the dark. it’s unfamiliar. he’s never heard it before but it sounds angry, a command and refusal against this, whatever it was and the inky blackness closes in fast and he flinches and —
— and eddie munson gasps in air that turns to vicious coughs, curling onto his side and fighting against the pain of being alive.
everything hurts, and his mind scrambles, tries to figure out how this is even possible because he knew he died. he knew. he never thought about how it would feel, to die, and yet there was something unquestionable about the cold of it all.
but here he was, blood and dirt under his nails, caking his rings. ] Holy shit — [ wheezed, voice like sandpaper.
he didn’t run this time, he thinks. he didn’t run and he had bought dustin time and he hopes everyone else had gotten out in time. had achieved killing vecna, and had saved Red and everyone else.
he didn’t run, but there’s a part of him that right now wished he did, if only because this really fucking sucked and he calls out to dustin once, twice, but quiets fast.
the makeshift spear serves as a way to leverage himself up, eyes drawn skyward as crimson lighting still lances across the grey clouds. as the bright red seems to be angrier and brighter, like a rift. like a big bleeding wound across the sky and he thinks of those portals and there’s anxiety rolling in his chest as his mind inevitably ends on the faces and names of everyone he really didn’t want to see hurt.
(dustin, lucas, erica, red. wheeler, robin. harrington. harrington better have made it out of this, he thinks, and it surprises him, maybe a little, how his thoughts stumble over to the name. someone has to be there to look out for the rest of the sheep and while dustin promised eddie as much, a part of him knew that he should have always been asking steve to make sure that everyone is okay because the guy is a natural-born babysitter and eddie is terribly disappointed that he hadn’t had the chance.
it’s why he, vehemently, hopes harrington wasn’t trying, as he himself so put it, ‘to be cute’ and just got the hell out of here alive and in one piece. got everyone else out, too.)
and finally, eddie contemplates where he should go. he contemplates a whole lot of things, really. like how the hell someone just revivified his ass. how the hell did some chick just say no like she was reprimanding death itself and suddenly he has pushing air back through the old windbags.
it takes some time, to make it over to a place he recognizes. he walks and walks and wipes away angry tears because he’s alone and he’s scared and wishes he was neither.
this was supposed to be his year. his. and now he’s stuck in this upside down, with no actual proof that vecna wasn’t still out there, that vecna wasn’t going to come for him next or that those insane bats wouldn’t return to finish the job. or re-start the job. he wasn’t sure, at this point.
thunder claps above him, echoes through the red fissure in the sky and he keeps walking, through backyards of houses he doesn’t particularly recognize. a bit too far from the trailer park. he would keep walking - likely towards the school, or maybe wheeler’s house, the only other place he’d seen through the myopic lens of the upside down, but there’s a faint glimmer that catches in the corner of his eye that makes him jolt to a stop.
an outdoor sconce flickers not too far from him, through a crack in the fence and it takes a little effort to vault over it. his injuries strain and it’s less of an elegant jump and more a painful flop that lands him in dead bushes. they crunch and creak and groan nearly as much as he does, makeshift spear clattering away and across the pavement, nearly tipping over the edge of the —
— of the pool?
eddie stands at the edge of the empty pool and feels pinpricks across his skin, already sticky with grime and sweat and blood and tries not to stare too long at a particularly dense set of vines in one of the corners and oh god why does it look person shaped and no no stop looking and it better not start moving he is so not in the mood and he instead teeters closer to the flickering light.
softly glowing specks dance around it like starlight and he reaches his hand out, relieved at the familiarity. it threads through his fingers and he swears it almost feels warm as the lamp glows brighter.
they’d done this before and he thinks of the ceiling light. he thinks of harrington yelling around in the living room and hearing voices of dustin beyond and he hopes, god he hopes that someone is on the opposite end of this light as he taps out s.o.s in morse code. ]
Hello? [ he ventures, not too loud. another s.o.s. and another. ] Hello? Can anyone hear me out there? Hello!?
[ please, please. man, everything hurts just a little bit more when hope is so close. eddie never considered himself strong, or brave. but at the very least, he could be determined. he could keep doing this, for as long as he had to, until someone can hear him and he just really hopes that someone on the other end can. ]
it’s not some dramatic thing, necessarily. this isn’t steve’s first rodeo, and while it may have been his first time into the upside down, he’s not new to this. there are always, always days after hawkins has to fight the haunted nightmare world it apparently lives on top of that he finds himself here. days where he had been too terrified to even look at christmas lights, where he jumped every time a dog barked. where he was convinced, convinced, that the russians had found him and robin. where they’d come to finish the job.
and this time…this time it worked, didn’t it? they’d roasted the shit out of vecna, max was still breathing, hawkins still stood - albeit on cracked, crumbling legs. compared to the alternative, this was okay. their plan didn’t fail. against all odds. he should be celebrating, they all should be, and steve does the best he can to keep them moving. to get them back home. to get them on with the next day, and then the day after.
it shouldn’t be this bad.
( the truth is - steve can’t stop seeing eddie’s body. can’t unsee the crumpled way dustin had been curled over him, still sobbing, when they’d made it back. how steve had to peel him away, had to all but carry dustin to the portal, back to hawkins. no matter how much he tells himself there was nothing to be done, how much he tries to reason with himself, every time he closes his eyes he sees eddie’s face, his body, matted with blood. torn apart, not dissimilar to how steve had been, just…what? days ago? )
right now, steve is out in his backyard - his house is empty, his parents gone on some other trip, and he just. he can’t sit inside anymore. he can’t be inside. so he finds the dregs of some forgotten joint from months ago and a beer from the fridge and he goes out to the plastic chairs with few plans other than to get high and maybe try not to think for a few hours.
and it’s stupid, he knows, but after the earthquake the pool lights aren’t really functioning, so he takes one of his dad’s camping lanterns out with him. why? honestly, he couldn’t tell you. part of him just couldn’t be in the dark.
when the flickering starts, steve just…doesn’t really notice. there’s been a lot going on these last few days, and honestly, he doesn’t want to have to look for it anymore either. honestly, there’s no telling how long it does take for his eyes to glance over. to see the pattern, repeated over and over, and for it to send him jerking upright so quickly his head spins a bit, just to watch the lantern again.
s. o. s.
he’d watched eddie munson tap out that very same thing. steve might not know morse code in the actual sense, but he knows that. ]
Shit. Shit. Uh- [ steve looks around, tries to remember how this even went. how this goes. if there’s anyone even here. ]
Hello? [ steve doesn’t even have the forethought to think who would be, who would even be in the upside down right now.
( for all he knows, mike wheeler got himself screwed over and ended up down there. or dustin, dustin - who hasn’t stopped saying they should go back to the upside down to get eddie’s body. fuck.
no, he needs to. he needs to figure this out before he panics. )
[ the light flickers in familiar beat and with each passing tap — short holds three times, long three times, short thrice again — and eddie’s hope begins to fade the longer this goes on.
the initial adrenaline of seeing the lamp — drawn to it like a moth to a flame — was fading fast, leaving his hands trembling and giving him another opportunity to damn himself for it. this was so stupid, as if anyone would be out there listening, as if he ever had any good luck left.
and what would he be even crawling back to? a town that hates him? a town that still thinks he did all of this? and okay, so maybe now, despite his current state, he could say he had people he'd want to go back to, that was a ludicrous line of thought when he was shoved so far up the ass-end of the upside down, and still not fully convinced any of this was real in the first place.
he sniffs, pressed both hands into his face, closes his eyes and sinks to the ground. he is so tired. so bone tired and everything just hurts and why did he even think this could work the same way it did before —
Hey, Can you hear me? — breaks his self-loathing spiral, catches his throat in something between a sob and manic laughter and holy shit does that voice sound familiar?
does that sound like harrington, of all people?! the goddamn hero is alive and eddie really hopes that’s true, as he springs to his feet, head spinning. ]
Harrington? [ eddie’s yell is loud and desperate, echoing through the haze. ] Harrington, holy shit is that you?
I can hear you! It’s Eddie! [ his voice feels raw, hand jamming back into the cloud of sparkly light and he squints against the brightness. ] Please, please tell me you're hearing me, man?
[ steve might be losing his mind. it’s possible that the joint was just…bad. which, he’s not even sure if that’s possible, but somehow hallucinating from a bad strain of weed somehow feels more plausible than the alternative.
but the light…it was flickering. more than flickering. it was signaling. s.o.s. holy shit. holy shit. okay, he is. he is doing this. someone is trying to contact him from the upside down. ]
Hello? [ the flickering stops, and steve panics. in part because he doesn’t know if he’s still hallucinating and in part because- oh god. what if he did something wrong? what if he said something wrong? ]
Shit, shit, shit. Think, Harrington, think- [ steve stands, suddenly, pacing as he tries to remember. what happened last time? he could hear dustin while they were in mike’s house, and steve had done his best. had yelled, screamed, followed him around. but it wasn’t until-
the light. ]
Uh! [ his voice is louder, again, his eyes scanning all around until it goes back to the light. ] If you’re talking to me, I can’t hear you! [ yes, okay, he can do this. ] You have to use the light! [ his voice drops, talking to himself for a moment. ] If you’re- god damn I hope I’m not insane. [ but he has to try, because if there’s someone still there. if someone is still in trouble…
but who is it? ]
Listen! You have to use the glowing things! The light. Just- tap it twice if you can hear me?
[ bad weed was more plausible than accused satanist and not-at-all-hero eddie munson being brought back to life by the demands of some kid with superpowers, whose little intervention probably wasn't even aimed at him to begin with?
...yeah, alright, fair. despite everything, that tracks. that's reasonable, in fact and should munson be aware of the full context, he wouldn't be able to blame him.
damn it, a swear under his breath because yeah, of course harrington can't hear him. he was there the last time, when the same thing happened, when it was steve yelling up a storm to try and reach henderson and why couldn't he just keep thinking straight?
maybe because somehow, salvation — with perfectly hairsprayed hair and under the influence of an old half-finished blunt — was just one hop, skip, and dimensional flip away. no biggie.
where steve takes a moment, eddie follows, heels of his palms pressing into his eyes again until he sees stars. ] Shit, shit Munson, you idiot —
[ the light. the light is the answer. of course. laughter is bubbling over in his chest, manic. ] We're all mad here, Harrington, [ muttered, under his breath. he's hoping he isn't insane here either. he's hoping steve is just the right amounts of insane to help, and maybe that's selfish of him, maybe he should take the loss, make sure that the rest of them don't have anything else to do with this stupid insane place.
but instead — tap, tap. twice, like asked. incessant. yes, he can hear you. he wrings his hands, attempting to tamp down the want to reach out again. ]
[ 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. ]
[ since the very moment chrissy - kind, frightened, scary chrissy - had floated up to the ceiling of his trailer and left a mangled corpse, eddie's definition of insanity operated on loose definitions — it was all crazy. all of it, down to the fact that he was finally starting to think this wasn't some hallucination, or some in between stop-over between death and thereafter, the concept of which eddie had never taken much time to think on anyway, despite appearances and town-conceived notions. and still, it would be nothing short of insane for him to know he was called a hero. he desperately wants to ask questions, but it will have to wait.
and, it would be nothing short of insane, should someone have told him months ago, that he would be as happy to hear steve harrington's voice, an echo in the dark, as he is now. and god damn it, he could plant one on the bastard if he helps him get the hell out of here.
eddie grins too, just as much despite himself, wobbly around the edges. he opens his mouth to speak, shuts it, tongue slipping to be pinched between his teeth instead in concentration.
do we know each other? 2 taps. ] Yes, yeah, come on. [ a vine squelches next to him, and he jumps. as if he needed a reminder of how visceral this place was. it was curious, though, how more lethargic it felt. that seemed like the right word for it, and it makes him hope its a good sign to their success. vecna, vanquished.
but vecna always had a way of coming back. eddie hopes that the name given to this monster was where the similarities had ended. that there wasn't any hand that could bring him back. he looks up at the bleak sky, still all torn up, still shrouded in dark and red and angry, before leaning back against a support column, sliding down, and watching the light. his breath is shallow, as if he's worried he'll miss steve's next question if he breathes too loud. ]
[ if steve had any awareness in this moment, he would probably make a more meaningful connection here. about the communication, about the pool, about barb, about will byers and joyce and how often this keeps happening, how awful this is. but at the moment, truthfully, this connection has jerked him out of whatever middle ground state he'd been in. there's something for him to do. there is something to be done.
two taps - they know each other. relief floods him again, almost pushing him to his feet (again), but instead steve just sort of slaps his knees. ] Okay! I can't believe this is working. Uh- [ okay, okay, god he wishes henderson were here. or nancy, or even robin. they'd have such better ideas when it comes to all this. but they aren't here, and he can't risk...what? he can't risk leaving? how long did will survive down there? wouldn't they be okay? ]
Are you- are you safe? [ because he should ask that, right? if whoever it is he's talking to isn't safe, they should move. he knows what the upside can look like, knows that if they're talking outside by his pool now, there will be a mirror version of it down there too. should they move inside? should he just...go and get his shit and go back into the upside down to get them? he doesn't know what he's supposed to be doing, but he knows he has to do something.
a thought strikes him not quite across the face, but the feeling is pretty close, his eyes going a bit wide. ]
[ that’s the funny thing with curses — they don’t seem to really know how to leave a place, not really. and hawkins? hawkins has been cursed for a very long time, right under their noses. right under eddie’s nose, at least, and it’s a wonder he’d never noticed before. but wheeler and harrington and the sinclairs and henderson all knew and man what a trip. man, that’s a horrifying little thought to think on more than in passing. how could you ever be okay after know all that??
maybe it’s a good thing he doesn’t make the connection to the missing girl from a year before right now — none the wiser to the fact that barb is probably lying there at the bottom of the pool, right behind him.
maybe it’s a good thing, but he is huddled around the light regardless, a beacon of hope and he’s not sure what he is going to do if steve decides to leave. if this connection breaks, if he can’t figure out how to get to him more directly. this is working for now, and only that. and a big part of him doesn’t want to even try to check the trailer. he’s —- he’s still afraid. afraid the swarm is back there, afraid it will be useless, afraid.
is he running again? god, he is, isn’t he?
are you safe inspires a grimace, some incredulous look tossed around him with a shrug, a gesticulation that loudly says what do you think, genius? ] I don’t know! I sure fucking hope so, man. [ Steve can’t hear him, he understands that much and yet talking out loud is helping. talking out loud, even if it’s under breath and shaky, helps not focus on the rolling shadows around him, keeps him from staring at them a little too long and he’s still so careful not to nudge anything that looks like it’s part of any hive-mind-like network because it’s absolutely not something he wants to test and second of all: gross.
he taps three times and hopes that means neither no or yes. That’s — that’s somewhere in the middle. that’s I don’t know it’s the upside down what the fuck is safe??
he tries to give ample break before answering again, some exhale of building frustration grinding through his throat. ] Oh, man, who?
[ steve hadn't really thought too much about curses until that day in jonathan byers house. but now, he guesses he considers them almost too often. hawkins, which is cursed. these kids, who are cursed. himself - his life - everything around him, cursed, cursed, cursed. it's the only real explanation, isn't it? as to why everything always goes to shit? how he can be the one taken in by the russians, how he can be the one who gets his ass handed to him each and every time, how - when he felt responsible for everyone when they went to the upside down - was the time they actually lost someone.
and now? now he was hallow. alone. sitting out in his back yard trying to avoid sleeping because then the nightmares comes, desperately wishing he could just hear someone's voice. because of course steve quiets between his questions, leaving enough space in the air for a flickering of light. are you safe. it's a stupid question, he knows it is. they're in the freaking upside down.
but he has to know.
the three taps takes way too long for him to figure out what that's supposed to mean. three? he only said two for yes, one for no, so if they were saying yes and then no, or if-
oh. oh. okay. not really. that's what that means. steve, feeling kind of proud of himself for figuring that out, nods. ] Okay, okay, not really, which- yeah. Makes sense. Kind of a stupid question, huh? [ steve's not trying to lighten the mood, not technically, but he's trying.
the second question - or at least, answer to that second question - has him exhaling. okay, so not eleven. then who else? ]
Wait- Max- is that you? [ sorry, eddie. he really is doing his absolute best. ]
[ 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. ]
[ there wasn't really an alternative, was there? because when you were faced with death and a missing kid, when you saw a monster standing right in front of you, when kids kept dying and no one was doing anything about it and even when you managed to fight it, to get it away, you were still expected to finish out the year. go to school. graduate. because no one could know.
steve is not going to brag about any of this (except for maybe eleven, and her superpowers. maybe.), because it's not something to be proud of. not really. not when they all didn't make it out in the end.
but again - steve's not focused on that, his entire attention instead over the fact that this is working. they are communicating. the relief and adrenaline is keeping him honed in, and as soon as the two taps come through - which steve realizes, a bit belatedly, was not meant to be an actual question - he can't help but bark a bit of a laugh, feeling...almost lighter. okay, they have a sense of humor. definitely not eleven. ]
Alright, alright, no need to get snippy. [ but then there's the no, not max, and steve feels a bit of that excitement falter. ] Shit. I don't know- [ he balls his hands into fists, presses them to his temple for a moment and tries to think. tries, so desperately hard. is it one of the guys? did one of the kids stumble through one of the fissures around town? no, no there would be more to this if that were the case. nancy would know if mike went missing, and sinclair was still at the hospital. henderson wouldn't...he wouldn't. he couldn't. steve doesn't even know what to think, where to start,.
god he wishes nancy were here. ] Man, who are you? How does this work, I- [ he's frustrated, he can feel it bubbling up in his gut. he leans over his knees for a moment just to try and think. could it be vecna? was he back to taunt him? steve doesn't even know what he would do at this point if that was really what happened, but then again, that would be par the course. vecna, still alive. vecna, whose come back to haunt him. venca, who will probably show up in his dreams as eddie and tell him this was your fault, you were supposed to be the hero.
( something about that thought is what gets him - eddie, who would look at him like that. disappointed, mad, upset, sad. eddie, who wasn't supposed to die. eddie, who sacrificed himself. )
steve might be going a little insane, but after a couple moment's silence, he finally looks back up again to the lantern. the light. he needs...god, he needs a drink. stronger than the beer he's forgotten at his feet. but he won't risk it.
there's no way, there's no way, and yet. ]
Munson, I swear to god if that's you...
[ he doesn't even know if he speaks loud enough to be heard through the dimensions, but steve's not sure he can raise his voice any higher with how tight his throat feels. ]
[ the burden of knowing is a heavy one. second only to the weight of surviving, because fuck knows not one of them really came back from this in one piece.
some of them didn’t expect to come back at all, but isn’t that a moot point by now. what’s more, there wasn’t a guarantee that he still would. this was a first step. some crazy first step that shouldn’t even be possible and he’s finally mostly convinced he’s in fact alive, because everything hurts, sides and neck crusted with his own blood and he tries to not think about that. but there’s still so many steps ahead and this? this was hoping that they could come up with some reasonable plan through yes and no and that eddie doesn’t pass out in the process.
but for now, adrenaline mirrored between the divide of dimensions, and eddie’s own grin grows, for a brief second more, hands sliding across his crossed knees, wiping away at the dirt and sweat.
but it wavers at the edges, waiting for steve’s next question. waiting and listening to the low sounds of thought before those, too, fall silent and the panic suddenly rises in his throat. did the connection break? is that it? did harrington give up? the latter hadn’t exactly seemed in his character but it would have never exactly been a question of blame.
it wouldn’t be far fetched for vecna to use that against him, but eddie had never thought of harrington in the perspective of fault. this hadn’t been his fault. eddie finally, finally didn’t run away from something and it actually mattered. he finally stood up and fought and it’s still something of an incredible relief that he’s talking to steve right now, in the implication that at the very least, most of them got out and he can only hope it was in part because of him.
when he finally hears Steve’s not-quite question, his answer is emphatic — as emphatic as it can be, sticking his hand into the light’s sphere and peaking the brightness to as far as it can go, entire twisted poolside illuminated for those seconds, long shadows cast and he tries his best to ignore that too. 2 taps — ] Yes, yes, it’s me! Oh my god, finally — [ it’s fair, for the other to have cycled through everyone more likely that him but, with another beat waited, another several seconds barely allowed between, eddie taps twice again, huffed laughter spilling out. he can’t believe this is working. ]
[ eddie doesn't have to blame steve for that guilt to still sit heavily, comfortably, permanently in his chest. because whether or not eddie blames him, steve knows what he did. steve knows that he could have said something else (what, he is less certain of). knows he could have done something. they've made it years, years, without losing someone like this. so obviously he did something wrong.
but steve tries not to focus on that, because those are the things that have kept him up. the things he can't help but roll over and over in his mind. right now is different, because right now there is something to be done. something he can do. even if it's something of a struggle to get to that point. he tries to think of options, tries to think of people. the yes or no is more limiting than he initially thought, but it's better than nothing, right? so he's got to make something of it.
he doesn't actually think anything will come of it, when he mentions eddie's name. he thinks he's being too hopeful, sending out a hail mary while he buys time to think of who it might actually be. which, he decides, has to be the reason that when the light does come on, when the two taps happen in the brightest, most emphatic way so far, steve's heart just sort of stops in his chest.
tap tap.
yes.
yes! eddie munson. eddie munson is the one talking to him right now. and maybe there is a part of steve that has been waiting for this moment, who has been waiting for a reason to let that hope that has been building in his chest to take over. he hadn't wanted to, hadn't wanted to have to face how childish a hope like that could be, but now when faced with the reality that it's true... steve all but jumps to his feet, his eyes growing wide at the second, repeated yes. yes. eddie munson. eddie fucking munson is communicating with him from the upside down. ]
Eddie? Holy shit, Eddie, is that really you? [ he's pacing now, walking around the lantern because he refuses to look away, but he can't keep still.
his heart is beating again, but now it feels too fast, fluttering somewhere against his ribcage. ] You're alive? How? What?
[ and what did steve do, exactly? dive first? always rush in, first? always stand between everyone else and the threat and never look like he was anything but certain? and sure, munson knows better than most what a good mask of bravado can do, but there's a point in time when he wasn't at all sure it was anything other than just who steve was, and what he did is turn all of eddie's preconceived notions of the most popular pretty boy in hawkins on his head. not to mention, biting a demobat's head off? the most metal thing he'd witnessed. and if you asked eddie, a single loss in an event this grand is a bargain. and who doesn't love a bargain? right? come on, it's a good joke.
yes and no are limiting, sure. sure, eddie could probably scramble to remember more morse, but that meant squat if steve couldn't understand it. so binary answers it will be and they're still getting somewhere. they're still further ahead than they were and holy fucking shit.
tap, tap ] — yeah man, it's really me. [ his voice falters, on the brink of unsteady as his eyes sting, flooded further by relief. hands shake, rings clinking against one another again and he taps thrice for an answer that's meant to be unclear because — ] I don't know, I don't know how am I'm alive, dude, but I am, it's me.
[ he shakes his head in disbelief, brushing bangs from his eyes and looking skyward. ] This is insane. [ and the funny this is, he isn't sure which part. so much for '86 being his year. ]
[ steve made it out, is what he did. and up until this exact moment, steve had been convinced that eddie did not. and that did not seem like a bargain to him, especially not when steve felt responsible for making sure dustin didn't go diving back through the portal just to make sure. it made steve feel like the bad guy, like the adult who had to take all the anger because where else would anyone put it? and now, now that he's apparently talking to eddie, it makes him feel like...honestly, a bit of a traitor.
but it's fine, this is all fine, because he's apparently having a conversation with eddie munson, who he thought was dead, who answers the weird inbetween i don't know when asked how. ]
You don't- what does that mean, man? You're talking to me! How do you not know how? Shit, shit- [ steve is still pacing, still circling the lantern, his hands gesturing out around them because there's no one here to tell him otherwise. logically, he knows it won't help get his point across. he knows that, but in a weird way it kind of makes him feel better.
almost like he's actually arguing with eddie, rather than. whatever this is. ]
No, okay, okay- [ he has to stop this, he has to think. the relief threatens to overwhelm him but he can't let it, not where there are more steps to this. not when they're not quite there. it's what, two am? three? he knows he should wait until tomorrow, probably. should tell henderson, robin, maybe even nancy? god, what is he doing, what is happening. ] We can do this. Munson? Dude- [ his voice keeps shifting back between talking to himself and trying to talk loud enough to get through to the other side. eddie will just have to figure out what is meant for him and what isn't. ] We have to get you out of there. I'm going to get you out of there. Are you- [ steve catches himself in repeating a question he's already asked. are you safe. ] Can you walk? Could you meet me at a gate?
[ steve harrington, you could never be called the bad guy, or the traitor. but what it does currently make him is an absolute and total butthead, as eddie gawks at the light as though its the source of his current disbelief, hands thrown up and fingers pinching in emphasis as he leans forward. ]
What do you mean howdoInotknowhow?! [ eddie's hiss comes incredulous and indignant and of course they are already bickering now and man, he's actually honest to god happy about it, amidst this entire, total and complete absurdity. ] You tell me, man! You're the expert. Shit.
[he stills, forces himself to shut up before he goes on to say exactly what he's thinking, with knees pushed up to prop his elbows on them and rest his chin against his knuckles. he nods along, even if steve doesn't see. nods along to I'm going to get you out of here and swallows down the bitter guilt that follows.
fuck, he's — he's really wanting someone to go back to mount doom for him. and what's more shocking, harrington is saying that he will.
2 taps — he can walk.
2 more taps, though they come slower. he wishes he could ask which gate. the thought of the trailer makes his stomach roll, but maybe that would be their best best, even now. but he wouldn't be able to jump up to reach it on his own.
is there a different gate? how many more are there? jesus christ. ]
[ it probably is for the best that they steve can't actually hear eddie, because the argument would probably go on. and on. and then on some more. steve is full of too much nervous energy, too much stress and anxiety built up back behind the wall of being okay and keeping everyone else moving. simultaneously, steve would probably want to just punch eddie. shove him up against a wall and make him explain - because with all this stuff with venca, the gates, all of it. should he be risking this?
yes. or- whether or not he should, he's going to. he is.
two taps, he can walk. ] Good, good. Okay. [ two more taps, though steve feels a bit like...not that there is hesitation, but that there's something more. the gates, a gate. god - part of steve wants to ask him to just go to the nearest fissure straight through town, but he doesn't know if that's actually going to work. he knows the gates, themselves, are decemated - but if they're going to get through, they should do it at the spots they know a gate had been. he decides to go with the tried and true, ruling out lovers lake, the house, and then-
fuck. is he really going to make eddie go back to his trailer? steve bites his lip, crossing his arms over his chest as he continues to walk - back and forth, back and forth. ] The highway. [ he says the same moment he thinks it. ] Fred- Fred Benson. He died out on the highway- um. You remember the wreck last year? That killed that one student? Can you meet me there? [ they'd talked about fred's death when they were figuring out how to kill vecna. but it's also felt like years since then, years since the scariest thing they were dealing with was the curse itself.
steve comes to a stop, arms still crossed over his chest, waiting for an answer. ]
[ well, steve better get ready for a boatload of disappointment because eddie won't be able to tell him much else other than the mostly convincing fact that yes, he's alive! but how? how? thinking of that alone is enough to drive eddie down a spiral of questions with no answers and no matter how convincing steve might demand to be, shoves and walls and all, once they do have a chance to chit-chat about this, he'll be able to tell him diddly-squat. nothing that won't make him sound absolutely insane and the only saving grace about that was that all of this was certifiably insane. he wouldn't believe it himself if he wasn't in the middle of it himself.
talk about 'see it to believe it'.
he can walk, albeit it sucks, but there's not enough taps in the world to relay that part across but all of this sucks ass.
where steve contemplates the gates, eddie follows in natural progression. his foot taps an anxious rhythm and he thinks the trailer would be the obvious choice. eyes slip shut and hands run through his hair to cradle his head and its difficult not to feel the coward again for not wanting to face it now.
what if the bats are there? that place was covered by those vines, too, and boarded up, and — and chockfull of very recent and very raw recollection that made his heart race thinking about it and look at brave eddie munson, running again, always running —
his head snaps up. Highway. Fred. yeah, yeah, he remembers. yet another one he's blamed for. he takes a breath. he can do this. he doesn't need to go back there. he can go to another place. it's not terribly far, not when you measure it in steps to safety. he nearly knocks the light over, shoving his hand back for two taps. ] I'm gonna have to, won't I, Harrington?
[ the worst part is that steve pretty much knows that will be the case. actual answers never tend to happen unless one of the kids or around, or at the very least nancy. steve is not the information type, and when it comes to a conversation with him and eddie, he doubts any great questions will be answered. still, the need to get his hands on eddie is still there - some kind of proof that steve hasn't fully lost his mind. that this is actually happening. that eddie could be a living, breathing, person still.
he doesn't know the state eddie is in, but unless he's been magically healed by some weird bat poison venom, it's going to be bad. steve doesn't like the odds that eddie is in any kind of state to be walking miles anywhere, but they don't really have other options.
two taps, he can get there. steve nods again, because okay. you know. this might just work. ] I have my stuff upstairs. I'll get everything together and will meet you there. Okay? [ he waits for confirmation before he continues, the feeling of having something to do feeling good, actually good. like maybe this could work. ]
But hey, Munson- listen- [ because he has to catch him before he leaves. and not being able to actually see him makes steve feel a little like he's back to yelling at nothing. he sets his hands on his hips, this time, feeling oddly...he doesn't know. protective? ] Take your time. I'm assuming you're still beat to shit, and I don't need you passing out before you even get there. Go slow, stay away from the vines, and if I don't see you at the gate I'm going to start retracing steps back to my place. [ does steve need to be putt on such a tone? probably not. but the last time when he tried to be suggesting, it hadn't stuck. now? now he just needs it to be said. ] And jesus christ, man. Be careful this time.
[ you know, eddie might just need the same sort of solid proof as steve does that this isn't some sort of sick joke. that this isn't some pre-post death hallucination before everything fades into nothing. he tries not to think of the fact that everything already had faded into nothingness, an endless glassy void in the midst of which he stood. so yeah, a nice old proof of life might do them both some good. something other than an ethereal conversation that even sounds like it shouldn't be real, just some echoing ghost of a memory instead.
eddie nods along, emphatic, before it quickly turns to a roll of his eyes. ] It's the tone, man. I wonder who Henderson gets it from! [ despite that, there's little heat in the retort that falls on no ears at all. he taps the light, twice, curt little answers. ] Yeah, yeah. You be careful, big boy.
[ and eddie goes to lift himself back up. it feels about as expected, as he's winded by the time he's upright. or as close to upright as he can get, with hands braced on his knees and head spinning. the problem with taking breaks when every single part of you has been running on nothing but adrenaline and some spiteful need to keep moving, is that when the lethargy sets in, anything after hurts all that much more. his sides strain, reminders of the bites that had torn through fabric and skin. it looked like his jackets had managed to keep away anything that would make him bleed out to death (again). he hadn't really considered which part exactly it was that did him in before. which one of the bites? or the tails?
he grits his teeth, and there's that metallic tang along his tongue. he runs his hands over and under his shirt, and much to his surprise, they mostly come away dry. nothing miraculously healed, no. but coagulated enough that he could keep moving. he could walk, in the most lose term of the word and he isn't even sure how long he'd walked before.
mind's capable of crazy things when the crazy is all around you, he supposed. it's a little difficult to move away from the light, the spike of disquiet rolling in the pit of his belly. okay. okay. just get to the highway. that's halfway between here and the trailer park. give or take. he can do this, and — and steve will be on the other side.
its a slow and stiff journey, between trying to stay conscious and not tripping into some creepy wine that always looked perpetually moist. but when he turns on the highway, the small two lane road leading to what he can only hope is his salvation, he gawks. ] What the hell?
[ that's not one small portal, anymore. that thing is a chasm. stretching far beyond the very epicenter, even as eddie almost dutifully tracks to the point in the road that served as the crack in the windshield. if a windshield is interdimensional. ] Don't tell me this is as bad as it looks. [ muttered, under breath and suddenly all the more away of just how goddamn tired he is. he doesn't have it in him to be frightened, either, too focused on using the last bits of his energy to find the very point on the road that matters. he peers over the edge, takes a deep breath, and plunges the dull end of the makeshift spear through, to try and look through to the other side. here's to hoping that one perfectly hairsprayed head of hair is looking right back. ]
[ it can’t be, can it? because vecna plays with people’s minds, tugs on memories, makes you see things that aren’t really there. max had described it as some of her worst memories, mixed in with good ones. but they were memories, weren’t they? things that had happened once, come back to haunt their victims. this- this wasn’t a memory. a wish, maybe. a hope. but not a memory. that had to be enough, right? had to be proof enough? steve is going to take it, because he doesn’t know if he can just let this sit. doesn’t know that even if he did think this was a trap, which part of him still does, he could let it go.
eddie might be alive. that’s good enough for him.
steve wonders if he’s seeing things, because there’s no way he can get tone out of blinking lights. no way, right? but those two taps happen and he thinks he hears something sharp and argumentative in it, and it has the same feeling as if steve can see eddie rolling his eyes. and it’s probably a good thing they can’t see each other, because something in it makes steve smile. ]
Good.
[ and steve can’t help but hesitate, to hold his eyes on the lantern, just in case. he doesn’t even know what eddie would say, if anything at all. yes and no answers aren’t exactly something to be waiting for, but he does anyway. one second, then two, and then he's already wasting too much time.
how it works out as perfectly as it does, there's no way of knowing. something between how slow eddie has to move in and the fact that steve knows where his shit is, has done this before, and then has his car to get him the rest of the way there. the fact he's done this what...twice now? going into a third time? gives him a kind of experience he never really wanted to have, but now is thankful for, as he speeds along the dark roads of hawkins through the middle of the night, trying to keep himself from taking the turns too fast, hand tapping on the steering wheel.
come on come on come on.
it's hard to keep his mind from spinning, to focus on the task at hand. there aren't kids in his back seat this time, there isn't nancy to his right, plans that have already been made. part of him recognizes that he's rushing into this, how dangerous this could be for all of them, but he can't let eddie stay there any longer. honestly, every minute it takes him is too long.
how did this even happen? what even happened? eddie's not going to have the answers, most likely, but steve can't help but wonder. did he miss something? was eddie still breathing? did they leave him down there, alone, among the vines, while he was still alive? steve's a bit sick at the thought, presses the back of his hand against his mouth as he speeds down a straightaway, avoiding the cracks in the road and scars left behind.
hawkins is a disaster zone, but steve's prepared. steve has his eyes out. steve doesn't have time to slow down. by the time he arrives and screeches to a stop, steve gets to work - pulls out his supplies, his pack, his axe. he'd grabbed a rope before he left and moves to tie it around the closest tree, frustrated at how slowly he is moving now, but if he's getting them both back through this. steve keeps moving, though, because he has something to do. he knows that there is a next step, and a next step after that, and steve just keeps moving.
moments later, steve is standing at the edge of the chasm. it's a lot like the others, which have dissected all of hawkins into four pieces, but this one steve knows is a portal. knows is a gate. fred munson died right here, murdered by vecna, and now all of hawkins is in shambles. because they failed, because they didn't stop it. but at the very least he can do this.
he takes a breath says aloud- ] You better be there, Munson. [ before he drops down and climbs inside, bringing the rope along with him. it's, thankfully, not up into another ceiling, so physics aren't an issue, but steve brings the rope as a precaution all the same.
just one more gate. one more portal. one more trip into the upside down to bring eddie munson back. ]
[ eddie had once told steve that the only reason he went into the upside down the first time was because wheeler and buckley followed in without a moment's hesitation; he'd told him that he would have never gone to save his ass in normal circumstances. but normal got thrown out the window with chrissy, and fred and that kid in the lake. normal had never been an option and while a part of eddie is still shocked at how quickly steve was to leap at coming to get him from the place that was the epitome of nightmare fuel, a different part of him thought that maybe, maybe if the roles were reversed, he'd be doing the same, now. because none of this was normal. because somehow that felt more right than any other previously considered option.
there's something serendipitous about how the timing works out. eddie's navigation of the cracked landscape aligns near directly with steve's a pivot of perspective — up to down, or down to up — and as eddie is approaching the edge of the portal on unsteady footing, is the exact moment steve had decided to jump on in.
it shocks eddie, a sharp yell escaping just as he takes a step back, foot catching the edge of a root as he scrambles backwards and lands — painfully, thank you — right on his ass. ] Oh holy shit — !
[ this isn't exactly the best way to make a first impression since coming back, ass over teakettle and looking like he's crawled out of...well, here. its embarrassing, is what it is, and maybe he'd care a little bit more about that, but the relief bubbles over in manic laughter as he scrambles back up, teeters dangerously to one side, stepping forward as if to really affirm that steve is standing right in front of him. eyes wide, and words tumble out, breathless — ] Shit, man, you really came. Never thought I'd be saying this but you're a sight for sore eyes, Harrington. [ says the dead man walking. ]
[ the feeling is the same - the sudden drop of a roller coaster, the missed step on the curb. steve's stomach flips, gravity goes the wrong way, and then something about the momentum propels him through and he's scrambling on his hands and knees to keep himself up on the other side. the upside down. again. he hates that he's getting used to this - to that chill in the air, to the fact it never feels like he really gets his footing. everything down here is wrong, off, and with all that dust in the air and the threat of bats in the distance.
thunder rumbles in the distant echo of a strike of lightning and steve looks up, the sharp yell turning all his nerves on end, just in time to see eddie fall ass backwards back to the ground. for a brief moment, steve just sort of stares - eddie, eddie freaking munson - who looks like absolute shit, who looks like he's been crawling through the upside down for days, who looks alive, breathing, moving.
they move in some kind of weird synchrony, back up to their feet about at the same time. up on their feet, and towards each other. except that where there is a kind of slight hesitancy where eddie is concerned, steve can't help but close the distance as the words tumble out of eddie. sight for sore eyes he says, like he's not the one steve left dead, bleeding out, still on the ground of the shadow of the trailer park. ]
How the hell... [ steve starts, voice low. how the hell is this possible.
this is the part where things kind of stop mattering, because eddie could have said literally anything, and steve still would have been there. still would have immediately had his arms around him, immediately pulling him in for a tight hug. and yeah, sure, it might be the first time the two of them have hugged. it might even be their last. but it doesn't matter, because steve doesn't know how else to translate the immense amount of shock, relief, and whatever else that threatens to drown him. eddie might have bubbled into manic laughter, but steve is apparently a hugger, as he tightens his hold on him for just a brief moment. ]
Of course I freaking came. Did you really think I wouldn't? [ steve says, trying to go for indignant but unable to really get there, as he pulls away from the hug - his hands going to eddie's shoulders, like he has to hold them up.
and for a second, and then probably another, steve just sort of looks out him. lets out a breath. ]
[ no, you could never quite find your footing, here. never quite shake the feeling of being off-kilter, never quite feeling like you're the right side up. it isn't that you get used to it as much as it becomes easier to ignore, but the two aren't entirely the same thing. you stop wanting to hurl sometime between falling in and your first bat encounter, if you're lucky. maybe it's good that they aren't truly used to it? maybe it's important to not get used to hopping into this place every school year.
thunder rumbles, lightning threatens to strike and it is always that ominous scarlet and every time it had come, eddie couldn't help but flinch. couldn't help but look to the horizon, expecting a swarm to be scattered across. expecting to run (again) or to die (again).
except — he doesn't look this time. he doesn't look this time and he doesn't flinch and everything feels like it moves in slow motion, attention on - and only on - someone he half expected to not be real. the ache is momentarily dulled by the sheer disbelief, by the adrenaline that spikes through him as steve is the one that's suddenly right in front of him without hesitation. always without hesitation and what a frustrating trait this man has —
eddie feels himself open his mouth, take in a breath to retort something — and he really wouldn't be able to even say what — when harrington's pulling him in and it's that second where eddie's brain finally clicks in with real, holy fucking shit this was real. it takes a breath of hesitation through a suddenly tight throat before his arms are around harrington, fingers splayed across a shoulder while the others tighten on the back of steve's shirt.
the hold tightens and there's a small grunt of protest, some pain shooting through but he doesn't care even then, not really and who would have thought that eddie the freak munson would be nearly clinging to steve harrington for all he's worth?
in the end, he's glad steve's hands stay on his shoulders when they move away. he's insanely aware, now, that this is probably the only thing keeping him upright. his laugh is weak. ] I thought — maybe I was just making all that shit up, with the light, with you, with everything but —
This feels real, right? [ uncertain, hopeful? his own hands are on steve's elbow and tap along it for restless emphasis, warm against cold fingertips, and the other hand still hovers somewhere by the ribs like a tether. an anchor. he can be embarrassed about it later. he shakes his head, and there's a frown twisting his expression. ] I don't think I'm ready for this to be one bad trip, man.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
LETS GOO BAYBEE
it’s dark. it’s so impossibly dark, inky and deep and silence embodied and it isn't at all like the fires of mount doom coming to claim him. eddie stands in the midst of nothing, and the void-like depth ripples like water underfoot. he doesn’t remember the how or the why and there’s blood on his hands and in his hair and he doesn’t feel real.
no! — a girl’s voice travels through the dark. it’s unfamiliar. he’s never heard it before but it sounds angry, a command and refusal against this, whatever it was and the inky blackness closes in fast and he flinches and —
— and eddie munson gasps in air that turns to vicious coughs, curling onto his side and fighting against the pain of being alive.
everything hurts, and his mind scrambles, tries to figure out how this is even possible because he knew he died. he knew. he never thought about how it would feel, to die, and yet there was something unquestionable about the cold of it all.
but here he was, blood and dirt under his nails, caking his rings. ] Holy shit — [ wheezed, voice like sandpaper.
he didn’t run this time, he thinks. he didn’t run and he had bought dustin time and he hopes everyone else had gotten out in time. had achieved killing vecna, and had saved Red and everyone else.
he didn’t run, but there’s a part of him that right now wished he did, if only because this really fucking sucked and he calls out to dustin once, twice, but quiets fast.
the makeshift spear serves as a way to leverage himself up, eyes drawn skyward as crimson lighting still lances across the grey clouds. as the bright red seems to be angrier and brighter, like a rift. like a big bleeding wound across the sky and he thinks of those portals and there’s anxiety rolling in his chest as his mind inevitably ends on the faces and names of everyone he really didn’t want to see hurt.
(dustin, lucas, erica, red. wheeler, robin. harrington. harrington better have made it out of this, he thinks, and it surprises him, maybe a little, how his thoughts stumble over to the name. someone has to be there to look out for the rest of the sheep and while dustin promised eddie as much, a part of him knew that he should have always been asking steve to make sure that everyone is okay because the guy is a natural-born babysitter and eddie is terribly disappointed that he hadn’t had the chance.
it’s why he, vehemently, hopes harrington wasn’t trying, as he himself so put it, ‘to be cute’ and just got the hell out of here alive and in one piece. got everyone else out, too.)
and finally, eddie contemplates where he should go. he contemplates a whole lot of things, really. like how the hell someone just revivified his ass. how the hell did some chick just say no like she was reprimanding death itself and suddenly he has pushing air back through the old windbags.
it takes some time, to make it over to a place he recognizes. he walks and walks and wipes away angry tears because he’s alone and he’s scared and wishes he was neither.
this was supposed to be his year. his. and now he’s stuck in this upside down, with no actual proof that vecna wasn’t still out there, that vecna wasn’t going to come for him next or that those insane bats wouldn’t return to finish the job. or re-start the job. he wasn’t sure, at this point.
thunder claps above him, echoes through the red fissure in the sky and he keeps walking, through backyards of houses he doesn’t particularly recognize. a bit too far from the trailer park. he would keep walking - likely towards the school, or maybe wheeler’s house, the only other place he’d seen through the myopic lens of the upside down, but there’s a faint glimmer that catches in the corner of his eye that makes him jolt to a stop.
an outdoor sconce flickers not too far from him, through a crack in the fence and it takes a little effort to vault over it. his injuries strain and it’s less of an elegant jump and more a painful flop that lands him in dead bushes. they crunch and creak and groan nearly as much as he does, makeshift spear clattering away and across the pavement, nearly tipping over the edge of the —
— of the pool?
eddie stands at the edge of the empty pool and feels pinpricks across his skin, already sticky with grime and sweat and blood and tries not to stare too long at a particularly dense set of vines in one of the corners and oh god why does it look person shaped and no no stop looking and it better not start moving he is so not in the mood and he instead teeters closer to the flickering light.
softly glowing specks dance around it like starlight and he reaches his hand out, relieved at the familiarity. it threads through his fingers and he swears it almost feels warm as the lamp glows brighter.
they’d done this before and he thinks of the ceiling light. he thinks of harrington yelling around in the living room and hearing voices of dustin beyond and he hopes, god he hopes that someone is on the opposite end of this light as he taps out s.o.s in morse code. ]
Hello? [ he ventures, not too loud. another s.o.s. and another. ] Hello? Can anyone hear me out there? Hello!?
[ please, please. man, everything hurts just a little bit more when hope is so close. eddie never considered himself strong, or brave. but at the very least, he could be determined. he could keep doing this, for as long as he had to, until someone can hear him and he just really hopes that someone on the other end can. ]
yells loudly
it’s not some dramatic thing, necessarily. this isn’t steve’s first rodeo, and while it may have been his first time into the upside down, he’s not new to this. there are always, always days after hawkins has to fight the haunted nightmare world it apparently lives on top of that he finds himself here. days where he had been too terrified to even look at christmas lights, where he jumped every time a dog barked. where he was convinced, convinced, that the russians had found him and robin. where they’d come to finish the job.
and this time…this time it worked, didn’t it? they’d roasted the shit out of vecna, max was still breathing, hawkins still stood - albeit on cracked, crumbling legs. compared to the alternative, this was okay. their plan didn’t fail. against all odds. he should be celebrating, they all should be, and steve does the best he can to keep them moving. to get them back home. to get them on with the next day, and then the day after.
it shouldn’t be this bad.
( the truth is - steve can’t stop seeing eddie’s body. can’t unsee the crumpled way dustin had been curled over him, still sobbing, when they’d made it back. how steve had to peel him away, had to all but carry dustin to the portal, back to hawkins. no matter how much he tells himself there was nothing to be done, how much he tries to reason with himself, every time he closes his eyes he sees eddie’s face, his body, matted with blood. torn apart, not dissimilar to how steve had been, just…what? days ago? )
right now, steve is out in his backyard - his house is empty, his parents gone on some other trip, and he just. he can’t sit inside anymore. he can’t be inside. so he finds the dregs of some forgotten joint from months ago and a beer from the fridge and he goes out to the plastic chairs with few plans other than to get high and maybe try not to think for a few hours.
and it’s stupid, he knows, but after the earthquake the pool lights aren’t really functioning, so he takes one of his dad’s camping lanterns out with him. why? honestly, he couldn’t tell you. part of him just couldn’t be in the dark.
when the flickering starts, steve just…doesn’t really notice. there’s been a lot going on these last few days, and honestly, he doesn’t want to have to look for it anymore either. honestly, there’s no telling how long it does take for his eyes to glance over. to see the pattern, repeated over and over, and for it to send him jerking upright so quickly his head spins a bit, just to watch the lantern again.
s. o. s.
he’d watched eddie munson tap out that very same thing. steve might not know morse code in the actual sense, but he knows that. ]
Shit. Shit. Uh- [ steve looks around, tries to remember how this even went. how this goes. if there’s anyone even here. ]
Hello? [ steve doesn’t even have the forethought to think who would be, who would even be in the upside down right now.
( for all he knows, mike wheeler got himself screwed over and ended up down there. or dustin, dustin - who hasn’t stopped saying they should go back to the upside down to get eddie’s body. fuck.
no, he needs to. he needs to figure this out before he panics. )
he raises his voice a little. ]
Hey! Can you hear me?
keeps yelling
the initial adrenaline of seeing the lamp — drawn to it like a moth to a flame — was fading fast, leaving his hands trembling and giving him another opportunity to damn himself for it. this was so stupid, as if anyone would be out there listening, as if he ever had any good luck left.
and what would he be even crawling back to? a town that hates him? a town that still thinks he did all of this? and okay, so maybe now, despite his current state, he could say he had people he'd want to go back to, that was a ludicrous line of thought when he was shoved so far up the ass-end of the upside down, and still not fully convinced any of this was real in the first place.
he sniffs, pressed both hands into his face, closes his eyes and sinks to the ground. he is so tired. so bone tired and everything just hurts and why did he even think this could work the same way it did before —
Hey, Can you hear me? — breaks his self-loathing spiral, catches his throat in something between a sob and manic laughter and holy shit does that voice sound familiar?
does that sound like harrington, of all people?! the goddamn hero is alive and eddie really hopes that’s true, as he springs to his feet, head spinning. ]
Harrington? [ eddie’s yell is loud and desperate, echoing through the haze. ] Harrington, holy shit is that you?
I can hear you! It’s Eddie! [ his voice feels raw, hand jamming back into the cloud of sparkly light and he squints against the brightness. ] Please, please tell me you're hearing me, man?
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but the light…it was flickering. more than flickering. it was signaling. s.o.s. holy shit. holy shit. okay, he is. he is doing this. someone is trying to contact him from the upside down. ]
Hello? [ the flickering stops, and steve panics. in part because he doesn’t know if he’s still hallucinating and in part because- oh god. what if he did something wrong? what if he said something wrong? ]
Shit, shit, shit. Think, Harrington, think- [ steve stands, suddenly, pacing as he tries to remember. what happened last time? he could hear dustin while they were in mike’s house, and steve had done his best. had yelled, screamed, followed him around. but it wasn’t until-
the light. ]
Uh! [ his voice is louder, again, his eyes scanning all around until it goes back to the light. ] If you’re talking to me, I can’t hear you! [ yes, okay, he can do this. ] You have to use the light! [ his voice drops, talking to himself for a moment. ] If you’re- god damn I hope I’m not insane. [ but he has to try, because if there’s someone still there. if someone is still in trouble…
but who is it? ]
Listen! You have to use the glowing things! The light. Just- tap it twice if you can hear me?
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...yeah, alright, fair. despite everything, that tracks. that's reasonable, in fact and should munson be aware of the full context, he wouldn't be able to blame him.
damn it, a swear under his breath because yeah, of course harrington can't hear him. he was there the last time, when the same thing happened, when it was steve yelling up a storm to try and reach henderson and why couldn't he just keep thinking straight?
maybe because somehow, salvation — with perfectly hairsprayed hair and under the influence of an old half-finished blunt — was just one hop, skip, and dimensional flip away. no biggie.
where steve takes a moment, eddie follows, heels of his palms pressing into his eyes again until he sees stars. ] Shit, shit Munson, you idiot —
[ the light. the light is the answer. of course. laughter is bubbling over in his chest, manic. ] We're all mad here, Harrington, [ muttered, under his breath. he's hoping he isn't insane here either. he's hoping steve is just the right amounts of insane to help, and maybe that's selfish of him, maybe he should take the loss, make sure that the rest of them don't have anything else to do with this stupid insane place.
but instead — tap, tap. twice, like asked. incessant. yes, he can hear you. he wrings his hands, attempting to tamp down the want to reach out again. ]
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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?
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and, it would be nothing short of insane, should someone have told him months ago, that he would be as happy to hear steve harrington's voice, an echo in the dark, as he is now. and god damn it, he could plant one on the bastard if he helps him get the hell out of here.
eddie grins too, just as much despite himself, wobbly around the edges. he opens his mouth to speak, shuts it, tongue slipping to be pinched between his teeth instead in concentration.
do we know each other? 2 taps. ] Yes, yeah, come on. [ a vine squelches next to him, and he jumps. as if he needed a reminder of how visceral this place was. it was curious, though, how more lethargic it felt. that seemed like the right word for it, and it makes him hope its a good sign to their success. vecna, vanquished.
but vecna always had a way of coming back. eddie hopes that the name given to this monster was where the similarities had ended. that there wasn't any hand that could bring him back. he looks up at the bleak sky, still all torn up, still shrouded in dark and red and angry, before leaning back against a support column, sliding down, and watching the light. his breath is shallow, as if he's worried he'll miss steve's next question if he breathes too loud. ]
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two taps - they know each other. relief floods him again, almost pushing him to his feet (again), but instead steve just sort of slaps his knees. ] Okay! I can't believe this is working. Uh- [ okay, okay, god he wishes henderson were here. or nancy, or even robin. they'd have such better ideas when it comes to all this. but they aren't here, and he can't risk...what? he can't risk leaving? how long did will survive down there? wouldn't they be okay? ]
Are you- are you safe? [ because he should ask that, right? if whoever it is he's talking to isn't safe, they should move. he knows what the upside can look like, knows that if they're talking outside by his pool now, there will be a mirror version of it down there too. should they move inside? should he just...go and get his shit and go back into the upside down to get them? he doesn't know what he's supposed to be doing, but he knows he has to do something.
a thought strikes him not quite across the face, but the feeling is pretty close, his eyes going a bit wide. ]
Eleven? Is that you?
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maybe it’s a good thing he doesn’t make the connection to the missing girl from a year before right now — none the wiser to the fact that barb is probably lying there at the bottom of the pool, right behind him.
maybe it’s a good thing, but he is huddled around the light regardless, a beacon of hope and he’s not sure what he is going to do if steve decides to leave. if this connection breaks, if he can’t figure out how to get to him more directly. this is working for now, and only that. and a big part of him doesn’t want to even try to check the trailer. he’s —- he’s still afraid. afraid the swarm is back there, afraid it will be useless, afraid.
is he running again? god, he is, isn’t he?
are you safe inspires a grimace, some incredulous look tossed around him with a shrug, a gesticulation that loudly says what do you think, genius? ] I don’t know! I sure fucking hope so, man. [ Steve can’t hear him, he understands that much and yet talking out loud is helping. talking out loud, even if it’s under breath and shaky, helps not focus on the rolling shadows around him, keeps him from staring at them a little too long and he’s still so careful not to nudge anything that looks like it’s part of any hive-mind-like network because it’s absolutely not something he wants to test and second of all: gross.
he taps three times and hopes that means neither no or yes. That’s — that’s somewhere in the middle. that’s I don’t know it’s the upside down what the fuck is safe??
he tries to give ample break before answering again, some exhale of building frustration grinding through his throat. ] Oh, man, who?
[ a single tap. no]
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and now? now he was hallow. alone. sitting out in his back yard trying to avoid sleeping because then the nightmares comes, desperately wishing he could just hear someone's voice. because of course steve quiets between his questions, leaving enough space in the air for a flickering of light. are you safe. it's a stupid question, he knows it is. they're in the freaking upside down.
but he has to know.
the three taps takes way too long for him to figure out what that's supposed to mean. three? he only said two for yes, one for no, so if they were saying yes and then no, or if-
oh. oh. okay. not really. that's what that means. steve, feeling kind of proud of himself for figuring that out, nods. ] Okay, okay, not really, which- yeah. Makes sense. Kind of a stupid question, huh? [ steve's not trying to lighten the mood, not technically, but he's trying.
the second question - or at least, answer to that second question - has him exhaling. okay, so not eleven. then who else? ]
Wait- Max- is that you? [ sorry, eddie. he really is doing his absolute best. ]
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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. ]
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steve is not going to brag about any of this (except for maybe eleven, and her superpowers. maybe.), because it's not something to be proud of. not really. not when they all didn't make it out in the end.
but again - steve's not focused on that, his entire attention instead over the fact that this is working. they are communicating. the relief and adrenaline is keeping him honed in, and as soon as the two taps come through - which steve realizes, a bit belatedly, was not meant to be an actual question - he can't help but bark a bit of a laugh, feeling...almost lighter. okay, they have a sense of humor. definitely not eleven. ]
Alright, alright, no need to get snippy. [ but then there's the no, not max, and steve feels a bit of that excitement falter. ] Shit. I don't know- [ he balls his hands into fists, presses them to his temple for a moment and tries to think. tries, so desperately hard. is it one of the guys? did one of the kids stumble through one of the fissures around town? no, no there would be more to this if that were the case. nancy would know if mike went missing, and sinclair was still at the hospital. henderson wouldn't...he wouldn't. he couldn't. steve doesn't even know what to think, where to start,.
god he wishes nancy were here. ] Man, who are you? How does this work, I- [ he's frustrated, he can feel it bubbling up in his gut. he leans over his knees for a moment just to try and think. could it be vecna? was he back to taunt him? steve doesn't even know what he would do at this point if that was really what happened, but then again, that would be par the course. vecna, still alive. vecna, whose come back to haunt him. venca, who will probably show up in his dreams as eddie and tell him this was your fault, you were supposed to be the hero.
( something about that thought is what gets him - eddie, who would look at him like that. disappointed, mad, upset, sad. eddie, who wasn't supposed to die. eddie, who sacrificed himself. )
steve might be going a little insane, but after a couple moment's silence, he finally looks back up again to the lantern. the light. he needs...god, he needs a drink. stronger than the beer he's forgotten at his feet. but he won't risk it.
there's no way, there's no way, and yet. ]
Munson, I swear to god if that's you...
[ he doesn't even know if he speaks loud enough to be heard through the dimensions, but steve's not sure he can raise his voice any higher with how tight his throat feels. ]
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some of them didn’t expect to come back at all, but isn’t that a moot point by now. what’s more, there wasn’t a guarantee that he still would. this was a first step. some crazy first step that shouldn’t even be possible and he’s finally mostly convinced he’s in fact alive, because everything hurts, sides and neck crusted with his own blood and he tries to not think about that. but there’s still so many steps ahead and this? this was hoping that they could come up with some reasonable plan through yes and no and that eddie doesn’t pass out in the process.
but for now, adrenaline mirrored between the divide of dimensions, and eddie’s own grin grows, for a brief second more, hands sliding across his crossed knees, wiping away at the dirt and sweat.
but it wavers at the edges, waiting for steve’s next question. waiting and listening to the low sounds of thought before those, too, fall silent and the panic suddenly rises in his throat. did the connection break? is that it? did harrington give up? the latter hadn’t exactly seemed in his character but it would have never exactly been a question of blame.
it wouldn’t be far fetched for vecna to use that against him, but eddie had never thought of harrington in the perspective of fault. this hadn’t been his fault. eddie finally, finally didn’t run away from something and it actually mattered. he finally stood up and fought and it’s still something of an incredible relief that he’s talking to steve right now, in the implication that at the very least, most of them got out and he can only hope it was in part because of him.
when he finally hears Steve’s not-quite question, his answer is emphatic — as emphatic as it can be, sticking his hand into the light’s sphere and peaking the brightness to as far as it can go, entire twisted poolside illuminated for those seconds, long shadows cast and he tries his best to ignore that too. 2 taps — ] Yes, yes, it’s me! Oh my god, finally — [ it’s fair, for the other to have cycled through everyone more likely that him but, with another beat waited, another several seconds barely allowed between, eddie taps twice again, huffed laughter spilling out. he can’t believe this is working. ]
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but steve tries not to focus on that, because those are the things that have kept him up. the things he can't help but roll over and over in his mind. right now is different, because right now there is something to be done. something he can do. even if it's something of a struggle to get to that point. he tries to think of options, tries to think of people. the yes or no is more limiting than he initially thought, but it's better than nothing, right? so he's got to make something of it.
he doesn't actually think anything will come of it, when he mentions eddie's name. he thinks he's being too hopeful, sending out a hail mary while he buys time to think of who it might actually be. which, he decides, has to be the reason that when the light does come on, when the two taps happen in the brightest, most emphatic way so far, steve's heart just sort of stops in his chest.
tap tap.
yes.
yes! eddie munson. eddie munson is the one talking to him right now. and maybe there is a part of steve that has been waiting for this moment, who has been waiting for a reason to let that hope that has been building in his chest to take over. he hadn't wanted to, hadn't wanted to have to face how childish a hope like that could be, but now when faced with the reality that it's true... steve all but jumps to his feet, his eyes growing wide at the second, repeated yes. yes. eddie munson. eddie fucking munson is communicating with him from the upside down. ]
Eddie? Holy shit, Eddie, is that really you? [ he's pacing now, walking around the lantern because he refuses to look away, but he can't keep still.
his heart is beating again, but now it feels too fast, fluttering somewhere against his ribcage. ] You're alive? How? What?
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yes and no are limiting, sure. sure, eddie could probably scramble to remember more morse, but that meant squat if steve couldn't understand it. so binary answers it will be and they're still getting somewhere. they're still further ahead than they were and holy fucking shit.
tap, tap ] — yeah man, it's really me. [ his voice falters, on the brink of unsteady as his eyes sting, flooded further by relief. hands shake, rings clinking against one another again and he taps thrice for an answer that's meant to be unclear because — ] I don't know, I don't know how am I'm alive, dude, but I am, it's me.
[ he shakes his head in disbelief, brushing bangs from his eyes and looking skyward. ] This is insane. [ and the funny this is, he isn't sure which part. so much for '86 being his year. ]
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but it's fine, this is all fine, because he's apparently having a conversation with eddie munson, who he thought was dead, who answers the weird inbetween i don't know when asked how. ]
You don't- what does that mean, man? You're talking to me! How do you not know how? Shit, shit- [ steve is still pacing, still circling the lantern, his hands gesturing out around them because there's no one here to tell him otherwise. logically, he knows it won't help get his point across. he knows that, but in a weird way it kind of makes him feel better.
almost like he's actually arguing with eddie, rather than. whatever this is. ]
No, okay, okay- [ he has to stop this, he has to think. the relief threatens to overwhelm him but he can't let it, not where there are more steps to this. not when they're not quite there. it's what, two am? three? he knows he should wait until tomorrow, probably. should tell henderson, robin, maybe even nancy? god, what is he doing, what is happening. ] We can do this. Munson? Dude- [ his voice keeps shifting back between talking to himself and trying to talk loud enough to get through to the other side. eddie will just have to figure out what is meant for him and what isn't. ] We have to get you out of there. I'm going to get you out of there. Are you- [ steve catches himself in repeating a question he's already asked. are you safe. ] Can you walk? Could you meet me at a gate?
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What do you mean howdoInotknowhow?! [ eddie's hiss comes incredulous and indignant and of course they are already bickering now and man, he's actually honest to god happy about it, amidst this entire, total and complete absurdity. ] You tell me, man! You're the expert. Shit.
[he stills, forces himself to shut up before he goes on to say exactly what he's thinking, with knees pushed up to prop his elbows on them and rest his chin against his knuckles. he nods along, even if steve doesn't see. nods along to I'm going to get you out of here and swallows down the bitter guilt that follows.
fuck, he's — he's really wanting someone to go back to mount doom for him. and what's more shocking, harrington is saying that he will.
2 taps — he can walk.
2 more taps, though they come slower. he wishes he could ask which gate. the thought of the trailer makes his stomach roll, but maybe that would be their best best, even now. but he wouldn't be able to jump up to reach it on his own.
is there a different gate? how many more are there? jesus christ. ]
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yes. or- whether or not he should, he's going to. he is.
two taps, he can walk. ] Good, good. Okay. [ two more taps, though steve feels a bit like...not that there is hesitation, but that there's something more. the gates, a gate. god - part of steve wants to ask him to just go to the nearest fissure straight through town, but he doesn't know if that's actually going to work. he knows the gates, themselves, are decemated - but if they're going to get through, they should do it at the spots they know a gate had been. he decides to go with the tried and true, ruling out lovers lake, the house, and then-
fuck. is he really going to make eddie go back to his trailer? steve bites his lip, crossing his arms over his chest as he continues to walk - back and forth, back and forth. ] The highway. [ he says the same moment he thinks it. ] Fred- Fred Benson. He died out on the highway- um. You remember the wreck last year? That killed that one student? Can you meet me there? [ they'd talked about fred's death when they were figuring out how to kill vecna. but it's also felt like years since then, years since the scariest thing they were dealing with was the curse itself.
steve comes to a stop, arms still crossed over his chest, waiting for an answer. ]
Could you get there?
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talk about 'see it to believe it'.
he can walk, albeit it sucks, but there's not enough taps in the world to relay that part across but all of this sucks ass.
where steve contemplates the gates, eddie follows in natural progression. his foot taps an anxious rhythm and he thinks the trailer would be the obvious choice. eyes slip shut and hands run through his hair to cradle his head and its difficult not to feel the coward again for not wanting to face it now.
what if the bats are there? that place was covered by those vines, too, and boarded up, and — and chockfull of very recent and very raw recollection that made his heart race thinking about it and look at brave eddie munson, running again, always running —
his head snaps up. Highway. Fred. yeah, yeah, he remembers. yet another one he's blamed for. he takes a breath. he can do this. he doesn't need to go back there. he can go to another place. it's not terribly far, not when you measure it in steps to safety. he nearly knocks the light over, shoving his hand back for two taps. ] I'm gonna have to, won't I, Harrington?
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he doesn't know the state eddie is in, but unless he's been magically healed by some weird bat poison venom, it's going to be bad. steve doesn't like the odds that eddie is in any kind of state to be walking miles anywhere, but they don't really have other options.
two taps, he can get there. steve nods again, because okay. you know. this might just work. ] I have my stuff upstairs. I'll get everything together and will meet you there. Okay? [ he waits for confirmation before he continues, the feeling of having something to do feeling good, actually good. like maybe this could work. ]
But hey, Munson- listen- [ because he has to catch him before he leaves. and not being able to actually see him makes steve feel a little like he's back to yelling at nothing. he sets his hands on his hips, this time, feeling oddly...he doesn't know. protective? ] Take your time. I'm assuming you're still beat to shit, and I don't need you passing out before you even get there. Go slow, stay away from the vines, and if I don't see you at the gate I'm going to start retracing steps back to my place. [ does steve need to be putt on such a tone? probably not. but the last time when he tried to be suggesting, it hadn't stuck. now? now he just needs it to be said. ] And jesus christ, man. Be careful this time.
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eddie nods along, emphatic, before it quickly turns to a roll of his eyes. ] It's the tone, man. I wonder who Henderson gets it from! [ despite that, there's little heat in the retort that falls on no ears at all. he taps the light, twice, curt little answers. ] Yeah, yeah. You be careful, big boy.
[ and eddie goes to lift himself back up. it feels about as expected, as he's winded by the time he's upright. or as close to upright as he can get, with hands braced on his knees and head spinning. the problem with taking breaks when every single part of you has been running on nothing but adrenaline and some spiteful need to keep moving, is that when the lethargy sets in, anything after hurts all that much more. his sides strain, reminders of the bites that had torn through fabric and skin. it looked like his jackets had managed to keep away anything that would make him bleed out to death (again). he hadn't really considered which part exactly it was that did him in before. which one of the bites? or the tails?
he grits his teeth, and there's that metallic tang along his tongue. he runs his hands over and under his shirt, and much to his surprise, they mostly come away dry. nothing miraculously healed, no. but coagulated enough that he could keep moving. he could walk, in the most lose term of the word and he isn't even sure how long he'd walked before.
mind's capable of crazy things when the crazy is all around you, he supposed. it's a little difficult to move away from the light, the spike of disquiet rolling in the pit of his belly. okay. okay. just get to the highway. that's halfway between here and the trailer park. give or take. he can do this, and — and steve will be on the other side.
its a slow and stiff journey, between trying to stay conscious and not tripping into some creepy wine that always looked perpetually moist. but when he turns on the highway, the small two lane road leading to what he can only hope is his salvation, he gawks. ] What the hell?
[ that's not one small portal, anymore. that thing is a chasm. stretching far beyond the very epicenter, even as eddie almost dutifully tracks to the point in the road that served as the crack in the windshield. if a windshield is interdimensional. ] Don't tell me this is as bad as it looks. [ muttered, under breath and suddenly all the more away of just how goddamn tired he is. he doesn't have it in him to be frightened, either, too focused on using the last bits of his energy to find the very point on the road that matters. he peers over the edge, takes a deep breath, and plunges the dull end of the makeshift spear through, to try and look through to the other side. here's to hoping that one perfectly hairsprayed head of hair is looking right back. ]
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eddie might be alive. that’s good enough for him.
steve wonders if he’s seeing things, because there’s no way he can get tone out of blinking lights. no way, right? but those two taps happen and he thinks he hears something sharp and argumentative in it, and it has the same feeling as if steve can see eddie rolling his eyes. and it’s probably a good thing they can’t see each other, because something in it makes steve smile. ]
Good.
[ and steve can’t help but hesitate, to hold his eyes on the lantern, just in case. he doesn’t even know what eddie would say, if anything at all. yes and no answers aren’t exactly something to be waiting for, but he does anyway. one second, then two, and then he's already wasting too much time.
how it works out as perfectly as it does, there's no way of knowing. something between how slow eddie has to move in and the fact that steve knows where his shit is, has done this before, and then has his car to get him the rest of the way there. the fact he's done this what...twice now? going into a third time? gives him a kind of experience he never really wanted to have, but now is thankful for, as he speeds along the dark roads of hawkins through the middle of the night, trying to keep himself from taking the turns too fast, hand tapping on the steering wheel.
come on come on come on.
it's hard to keep his mind from spinning, to focus on the task at hand. there aren't kids in his back seat this time, there isn't nancy to his right, plans that have already been made. part of him recognizes that he's rushing into this, how dangerous this could be for all of them, but he can't let eddie stay there any longer. honestly, every minute it takes him is too long.
how did this even happen? what even happened? eddie's not going to have the answers, most likely, but steve can't help but wonder. did he miss something? was eddie still breathing? did they leave him down there, alone, among the vines, while he was still alive? steve's a bit sick at the thought, presses the back of his hand against his mouth as he speeds down a straightaway, avoiding the cracks in the road and scars left behind.
hawkins is a disaster zone, but steve's prepared. steve has his eyes out. steve doesn't have time to slow down. by the time he arrives and screeches to a stop, steve gets to work - pulls out his supplies, his pack, his axe. he'd grabbed a rope before he left and moves to tie it around the closest tree, frustrated at how slowly he is moving now, but if he's getting them both back through this. steve keeps moving, though, because he has something to do. he knows that there is a next step, and a next step after that, and steve just keeps moving.
moments later, steve is standing at the edge of the chasm. it's a lot like the others, which have dissected all of hawkins into four pieces, but this one steve knows is a portal. knows is a gate. fred munson died right here, murdered by vecna, and now all of hawkins is in shambles. because they failed, because they didn't stop it. but at the very least he can do this.
he takes a breath says aloud- ] You better be there, Munson. [ before he drops down and climbs inside, bringing the rope along with him. it's, thankfully, not up into another ceiling, so physics aren't an issue, but steve brings the rope as a precaution all the same.
just one more gate. one more portal. one more trip into the upside down to bring eddie munson back. ]
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there's something serendipitous about how the timing works out. eddie's navigation of the cracked landscape aligns near directly with steve's a pivot of perspective — up to down, or down to up — and as eddie is approaching the edge of the portal on unsteady footing, is the exact moment steve had decided to jump on in.
it shocks eddie, a sharp yell escaping just as he takes a step back, foot catching the edge of a root as he scrambles backwards and lands — painfully, thank you — right on his ass. ] Oh holy shit — !
[ this isn't exactly the best way to make a first impression since coming back, ass over teakettle and looking like he's crawled out of...well, here. its embarrassing, is what it is, and maybe he'd care a little bit more about that, but the relief bubbles over in manic laughter as he scrambles back up, teeters dangerously to one side, stepping forward as if to really affirm that steve is standing right in front of him. eyes wide, and words tumble out, breathless — ] Shit, man, you really came. Never thought I'd be saying this but you're a sight for sore eyes, Harrington. [ says the dead man walking. ]
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thunder rumbles in the distant echo of a strike of lightning and steve looks up, the sharp yell turning all his nerves on end, just in time to see eddie fall ass backwards back to the ground. for a brief moment, steve just sort of stares - eddie, eddie freaking munson - who looks like absolute shit, who looks like he's been crawling through the upside down for days, who looks alive, breathing, moving.
they move in some kind of weird synchrony, back up to their feet about at the same time. up on their feet, and towards each other. except that where there is a kind of slight hesitancy where eddie is concerned, steve can't help but close the distance as the words tumble out of eddie. sight for sore eyes he says, like he's not the one steve left dead, bleeding out, still on the ground of the shadow of the trailer park. ]
How the hell... [ steve starts, voice low. how the hell is this possible.
this is the part where things kind of stop mattering, because eddie could have said literally anything, and steve still would have been there. still would have immediately had his arms around him, immediately pulling him in for a tight hug. and yeah, sure, it might be the first time the two of them have hugged. it might even be their last. but it doesn't matter, because steve doesn't know how else to translate the immense amount of shock, relief, and whatever else that threatens to drown him. eddie might have bubbled into manic laughter, but steve is apparently a hugger, as he tightens his hold on him for just a brief moment. ]
Of course I freaking came. Did you really think I wouldn't? [ steve says, trying to go for indignant but unable to really get there, as he pulls away from the hug - his hands going to eddie's shoulders, like he has to hold them up.
and for a second, and then probably another, steve just sort of looks out him. lets out a breath. ]
This is real, right?
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thunder rumbles, lightning threatens to strike and it is always that ominous scarlet and every time it had come, eddie couldn't help but flinch. couldn't help but look to the horizon, expecting a swarm to be scattered across. expecting to run (again) or to die (again).
except — he doesn't look this time. he doesn't look this time and he doesn't flinch and everything feels like it moves in slow motion, attention on - and only on - someone he half expected to not be real. the ache is momentarily dulled by the sheer disbelief, by the adrenaline that spikes through him as steve is the one that's suddenly right in front of him without hesitation. always without hesitation and what a frustrating trait this man has —
eddie feels himself open his mouth, take in a breath to retort something — and he really wouldn't be able to even say what — when harrington's pulling him in and it's that second where eddie's brain finally clicks in with real, holy fucking shit this was real. it takes a breath of hesitation through a suddenly tight throat before his arms are around harrington, fingers splayed across a shoulder while the others tighten on the back of steve's shirt.
the hold tightens and there's a small grunt of protest, some pain shooting through but he doesn't care even then, not really and who would have thought that eddie the freak munson would be nearly clinging to steve harrington for all he's worth?
in the end, he's glad steve's hands stay on his shoulders when they move away. he's insanely aware, now, that this is probably the only thing keeping him upright. his laugh is weak. ] I thought — maybe I was just making all that shit up, with the light, with you, with everything but —
This feels real, right? [ uncertain, hopeful? his own hands are on steve's elbow and tap along it for restless emphasis, warm against cold fingertips, and the other hand still hovers somewhere by the ribs like a tether. an anchor. he can be embarrassed about it later. he shakes his head, and there's a frown twisting his expression. ] I don't think I'm ready for this to be one bad trip, man.
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