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"I'm Steve Harrington, thanks for joining me at The Hawkins Post." He smiled. Held it for a few seconds more.
"And we're out,"
Steve got up as soon as he could, overwhelmed and panicked. It's not like he could go home straight away. No. Nancy was there. And she probably watched the whole damn thing.
She probably noticed when his smile faded off of his face for a few seconds, the way he paused five seconds too long before speaking again, and the way too robotic tone of his voice. Fuck. Shit. Fuck.
He missed Vickie on the way out of the office. He didn't bother to take the makeup off of his face. He didn't bother with anything, really. Steve took his leave without grabbing his briefcase or any other papers he might have needed to bring home with him.
Steve, instead, headed for the bar.
He breathed in heavily and exhaled on a tiny cough.
The bar was okay. It was fine to go, he told himself. He wouldn't get that drunk, he would only stay for a little bit and be on his way.
That wasn't the case.
Eddie, one of the wonderful camera men, was there. He sat at the bar, drink in his hand, and shamelessly flirted with other men. In public.
Steve's breath caught in his throat when he caught sight of Eddie's face.
His unruly hair, the specks of glitter that illuminate his face. The way his smile could light up the whole entire room. Steve focused on his beautiful, perfect fucking jawline and and made a tiny noise in the back of his throat.
Steve almost left. He really couldn't stand seeing Eddie. Not like this. Not when the last time they saw each other they kissed in a moment full of adrenaline and panic. Not when it was all Steve dreamed about anymore. Eddie's lips fit perfectly against his and how Eddie cradled his face softly.
"Hey, Stevie!" Eddie yelled at him.
Shit.
Steve startled out of his thoughts and forced a smiled onto his face.
Eddie smirked, his shoulders jumped a bit, like he huffed out of a laugh that Steve couldn't hear over the music. "Saw you starin' at me from. Was wondering if you wanted to join me? The guys are hot here."
Is he serious? Why the hell is he acting so normally with him? Does he not remember the kiss? How Steve ran off, guilt and fear building up inside of him because of how it made him feel. Is he seriously trying to forget? Steve couldn't.
Eddie waved his hand in front of Steve's face. "Stevie? You okay?" His face scrunched up in concern. Cute, Steve thought. Then he pushed it away with a shake of his head. Not right now.
"Um, yeah," Steve yelled over the music, voice faltering slightly. Fucking great.
Eddie pursed his lips. "I think you need a drink… Hey! How was the show tonight?" He took hold of Steve's arm and dragged him over to the bar. Ordered something Steve couldn't hear the name of for him and Steve ignored the butterflies in his stomach.
"It was… okay. Pretty sure I fucked everything up, though," Steve admitted.
Eddie chuckled. "Pfftt, I fucking doubt it, baby. You're always perfect,"
Steve blushed. His whole body heated up and he looked away from Eddie's direction. Trying to contain his giggle like a school girl.
The bartender gave him his drink and he felt the burn of the alcohol down his throat and his faced scrunched up.
"Fuck, Eddie. Kinda needed this after today."
Steve looked back at Eddie and holy fuck.
With the clearer version of his face, Steve can see every fucking detail. The smudged eyeliner, the same specks of glitter shining in the light, his toothy grin, and the way his eyes kind of crinkle when he smiles really big at Steve.
Does Eddie smile at anybody else like that? Because if he has, Steve hadn't noticed. And Steve would be lucky if it was just for him and him only.
Eddie laughed again. Steve loved that sound. It made him want to get down on his knee and ask Eddie to marry him right now.
No. That's the alcohol talking, right? He's over it. Really. If Eddie can forget the kiss, so can he.
"I think you worry too much. I'll watch it when I get home and I'll tell you that you were perfect," Eddie said again. Perfect. Eddie thought he was perfect.
Steve coughed on his next drink. "Please, don't. I'll jump off of a cliff if you did."
"Well, don't do that." Eddie joked.
It went on like that for forever, it felt like. And it was easy, too. Steve flowed with the conversation and let Eddie lead whenever he found himself out of words (if that was even possible) and couldn't help but stare at Eddie's face. Or his biceps.
Anyway.
It was nice. Steve eventually relaxed and chuckled at everyone trying to fuck Eddie. Coming by and asking if he wanted to dance but Eddie would simply whisper in their ears and they would always look at Steve like they wanted to fuck him, too. But they always left.
And after the last guy walked away, Steve asked, "What are you whispering to them?" It was jumbled and slurred and he was a mess. Eddie hadn't drank since he dragged Steve to the bar.
Eddie grinned at him. "Nothin'," and he went back to whatever he was talking about before. Something about cameras and news and how Steve could think he was anything but perfect and Eddie would still think he was.
It wasn't until Steve's fifth drink that he suddenly got up to go to the bathroom. He felt like he was going to puke. Goddamnit.
Eddie quickly followed after and into the stall that Steve ran into. Holding his hair back with his hands and whispering sweet things to him. He rubbed his back and patted it and made sure he got all of it out before Steve stood up again.
And when he did he leaned up against the stall and sighed.
"All done?" Eddie asked, kindly. Sweet. He had a soft smile on his face and he looked at Steve like he hung the moon even though he's sweaty and probably smells like puke.
Steve nodded and his body swayed forward toward Eddie. And Eddie caught him, just like how he always would, Steve thought. Even when it all got too hard, Steve somehow always found Eddie again. For some reason.
He didn't think about that right now. He pushed away the weird feeling in his stomach—that's not nauseous, Steve knew what it was—and rested his head on Eddie's shoulder.
Eddie brought his hand up to Steve's hair and played with it. Twisted it and tugged at it softly and Steve hummed in the back of his throat at the feeling and his body finally relaxed just a little bit more.
And then Steve lifted his head, their faces close together, and he breathed out. Jesus fuck, if he thought looking at Eddie earlier was bad, this was worse. Everything is so much softer and his eyes are huge—have they always been that big? And he is utterly fucked because this is what he loved about Eddie.
Loved—?
"Sweetheart, hey, you with me?" Eddie whispered. Steve nodded and his eyes flickered down to his lips and then back. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Eddie's eye did, too. They flickered back and forth much more than Steve's did, like he couldn't help himself.
And that's when Steve backed up. Just a bit.
Steve frowned, tears welled up in his eyes. "Eddie, we can't. We can't do this,"
"I know," Eddie whispered, "I know, baby." He placed a soft kiss on Steve's forehead and that's when Steve broke down. Drunk and guilty and unhappy and longing for someone to hold him like he needed.
Eddie did. Eddie wrapped his arms around him and let Steve hide in his neck. He kissed his head and shushed him, telling him that it was going to be okay. Steve would get what he wanted. He will be happy.
"No—"
"Shh, baby. It's okay. I promise. You'll be okay," Eddie told him. He squeezed his arms tighter and brought Steve closer to him and Steve was so close to him, he wonders how he didn't get weak in the knees when he smelled him. God, Steve wanted him badly.
No. No, no, no, no. Not right now, he told himself. Again and again. Not right now. Not right now.
"Eddie, I don't think I will be. Not happy," Steve said. He lifted his head out of Eddie's neck and looked at him. Stared into his pretty fuckin' eyes and Steve almost looked away.
Eddie frowned. "You will. Don't worry, sweetheart." He promised.
Okay, okay. If Eddie said so. And Eddie's always right, right?
He's panicked and breathing weird like he did at his father's funeral. When he remembered everything his father once did to him.
This is not that, though.
No, it's something else. Something much more than whatever his father was. Whatever his father made him felt.
Steve was just terrified. Terrified that a man could make him feel this way when he had a lovely girlfriend waiting for him at home. When he could be feeling this way about his girlfriend and not for Eddie. And when Nancy inevitably finds out that he's gay and she hates him and will forever. And—
"Deep breaths," Eddie's voice came back to him slowly. "C'mon, baby, in and out. You got this," he murmured.
Steve took a couple of seconds to comply, finding his way out of his thoughts and carving a way for Eddie's instruction. He breathed. Deep, slow, and everything that Eddie wanted.
"Good," Eddie praised. And he kept doing so until Steve calmed.
Steve stood up again, collecting his surroundings, and remembering that he was in a bathroom stall at a bar. That he puked and broke down in a stupid bar with Eddie.
"I— I have to go. I can't—," Steve cut himself off, pushed himself out of the stall, and ran away from Eddie calling out his name.
Nobody could know. Nancy couldn't know. Not anybody at work. It's okay, he told himself over and over again. It's okay, everything's okay.
But when he got home that night and leaned on the door, he felt the makeup he never took off. The sweaty, sticky feeling. And the vague ghost of Eddie's lips on his forehead and his arms wrapped around him.
Steve fled to the bathroom, turned on the sink, and let the water fall into his hands. He scrubbed his face, harshly until it was irritated. He needed the feeling to go away.
Nobody could know, nobody could know, nobody could know.
He can hide. It will be okay.