Chapter Text
I
HERE YOU COME AGAIN
August, 1986
He goes out for a smoke.
Outside, the light is scarce, only there to illuminate the unpaved road and the few houses in the surrounding area. The fire from his lighter glows warm against his skin, almost translucent with the sickness of alcohol and lack of sleep. Eddie breathes in, out, the smoke filling his lungs, drying his throat. His head is swimming with drunkenness and he thinks this might be it, life and all that. A weak body at night, substance abuse, ears ringing from the thrumming of speakers as he plays riffs on his guitar. And it is good.
No one told him touring would be like that. If he had to think of advice, the first one would be ‘learn how to pee in a bottle on a moving van’. The second, ‘trust your band mates with your life’. An extra piece of advice, or rather a rule he sort of made up, ‘always take your instruments with you’. Last week someone stole Gareth’s drumsticks while they were at a gas station in the middle of Nowhere, Arizona. Eddie never separated from his guitar since.
Now here they are, in the middle of Nowhere, Colorado, playing in the basement of a bar, surrounded by five or six houses, and not a single street lamp on sight. They were a crazy bunch, though, these small-town hicks, they could really bring the house down. The band had played most of the popular Metallica stuff, which really brought in a crowd, some Dio, some Black Sabbath, stuff where Eddie’s fingers danced like butter on bread through the guitar strings.
Their usual schedule went something like this: drive around, find a town small enough they probably won’t charge for playing some songs in their shittiest joint, sell some copies of their homemade cassette tapes – mostly covers but a few originals, always gotta add the originals. Then they’d get wasted, usually cheap beer, usually lukewarm. Then play an awesome show, wink at the cutest girls in the crowd, and make out with them behind the bar. “Always looking forward to this part, boys,” Jeff would say as a girl with blonde ponytails and a huge, Dio t-shirt approached him. He’d leave with her, appear near the van a few hours later, hickeys on his neck.
And it was fun, for the most part, spending time with the boys in the band, driving around the country, unsure of where to sleep each night, but looking forward to every single day. Eddie couldn’t think of a better way to spend his newly turned twenties. This is what life was all about, right? Bright lights and loud noises and the roar of a small crowd, their youth almost magical, the great desire of a new generation. Yeah, it was alright.
Eddie inhales the last of his cigarette until it’s just the camel-colored butt. Then he throws it away, steps on it carefully, and goes back inside.
Of course, the first smell that settles is the sweat, intense and corrosive, but it doesn’t bother him much. Some cheap deodorant is mixed in there, but mostly it’s smoke, acid beer, puke in some dark corner. He walks through the crowd, who are now sort of mingling with each other, some guys too drunk to even properly flirt with the girls. Gareth and Jeff are up on stage, sitting on the floor and drinking beers. A girl sits with them. Doug, as usual, is nowhere to be found.
“… and then the guy just up and left, just like that!” Gareth yells over the noise. The girl cackles, then the boys mimic her laughter.
Eddie knows the exact story he’s telling. About the time they were playing some show, still in Indiana, and a dude picked like five tapes, then ran away without paying. Eddie doesn’t see how that could be so funny to her.
“Hey, Eds ,” Jeff says and moves so Eddie sits next to him.
Eddie obeys and sits there, between him and the girl, who smells like really intense rose perfume. He picks the beer bottle out of Jeff’s hand and gives it a swig. It’s completely warm. “Jesus, dude, how are you drinking that?”
“Eddie,” Gareth ignores him, his words slurring out of him. “This is Cindy. Cindy, this is Eddie.”
“Hi,” she smiles at him, crooked, white teeth between glossy, pink lips. Eddie salutes her, offering a hand.
“A pleasure. Did you like the show?”
She rolls her eyes back, grinning, like their little trashy metal show is the best thing she’s seen in her whole life. It probably is. “It was terrific, I mean, truly unbelievable! The way you played that guitar, I’m gettin’ goosebumps just thinking about it!”
Eddie laughs at her honest to God enthusiasm. He raises his bottle. “To all the guitar players, I suppose”.
“To you!” she says, raising her almost empty glass of whatever it is she was drinking.
Eddie feels Gareth eyeing him, curls falling over. He needs a trim. He raises his eyebrows. Eddie mouths “what” and then Cindy has her hand on his shoulder, her jet-black hair cascading over her cheeks, she also needs a trim, whatever happened to hair stylists?
“I’m getting some air,” Jeff says, and awkwardly stands up, disappearing into the crowd.
Now it’s Cindy to his right and Gareth facing him, and Gareth appears to want to leave too, and Cindy is just getting closer and closer. Why is she doing that?
“So Cindy,” Eddie says, “what other bands do you like?” he takes a long swig from the beer bottle, which sucks cause it’s warm and sure to give him stomach burn afterwards.
“I better check on Doug! I haven’t seen him in a while” Gareth yells and just as quick he’s gone too, then it’s just him and Cindy up on stage, a dark stage in a dark room, like this is some kind of fucked up play.
“I like everything, stud,” she whispers in his ear, and he’s had enough already. He gets up, she stays down, looking at him helplessly, huge brown eyes staring up, so he gives her a hand, and it’s all so ridiculous. He’s gonna kill the guys.
“Look, you seem like a great kid, really,” he starts, the words cascading out of his mouth, “but you’re clearly heavily intoxicated, and I wouldn’t want you to do something you’d regret,” he goes on, off the stage now, yelling through the crowd and approaching the bar. Cindy follows closely behind.
“I won’t regret this!” she yells back.
“Yes, yes, you will, these things never work as they should, you know. I mean, Cindy, let’s be real, I’m a guitar player in a shitty band, imagine the horrid places I’ve been in. Makes me sick just to think of it.”
“What are you saying?”
Eddie snaps his hand at the barman and he quickly arrives, no one else there anyway. “Another beer, please. Ice cold, if possible.”
“Freezer’s broken.”
“You don’t have ice?”
“You want ice with your beer?”
“Eddie, what’s going on?” Cindy tugs at his sleeve, her huge eyes following his every movement. “I thought… Gareth said that you--”
“What, what did he say?” he snaps, and immediately regrets his tone.
“You don’t have to be such an asshole!”
Cindy turns and leaves for the exit, and something sours in Eddie’s stomach. The barman brings out the beer, just as lukewarm as the last. Eddie pays and runs after her.
Outside, the darkness settles, then quickly dissolves into shapes and blinking lights from above. Cindy’s pulling a cigarette from a pretty, silver case, engraved with something Eddie can’t make out. She pulls out a lighter, gives it a few tries, but it doesn’t work. Wordlessly, he takes out his and lights the cigarette for her. The faint, sudden light illuminates her cheeks.
“What’s your problem, man?” she whispers, the booming from inside still ringing in both their ears.
“I don’t know,” he stands by her side, their backs pressed against the cold wall.
“I’ve never met a guy who’s so quick to reject an easy lay like that. You got a secret girl at home or somethin’?”
Eddie looks at her. She’s much shorter than him, standing together like this, and the moon is reflecting on her straight hair, which falls down over her pearly white skin. She’s obviously beautiful, he can’t negate that fact. “It wouldn’t work out,” he says quickly, then presses the bottle to his mouth.
He hears her inhale the smoke from the cigarette, then sees the cloud form around her head. “I’m not saying you’re not gorgeous,” he adds, realizing how he might have come off this whole time. She looks up at him, then smiles.
“You’re gorgeous too, guy,” she says, then takes one last drag of the cigarette before handing it to him. He takes it to his mouth. It tastes like strawberry lipstick.
He arrives at the van, where they usually sleep unless they find a cheap enough motel – they couldn’t find one in this stop. Inside, Doug is snoring with Jeff sprawled next to him. Gareth isn’t there. He checks the front seats, empty as well. He looks around, but it’s too dark to make out anything, so he just waits on the driver seat. Gareth is going to have it. He knows it was his idea to talk Cindy into that awkward mess. And why does he even keep trying? Eddie’s told him time and time again that he doesn’t do the whole hookup thing, it’s just not his style, and Gareth swears it’s fun or whatever, but he’s just not like that, he’s—
There are footsteps, then Gareth climbs into the passenger’s seat. They stare at each other in the darkness for a moment, and no words are needed to understand what’s going on. So Gareth steps out, closing the door. Eddie does the same, and they find each other by the side of the van, perhaps closer than necessary, because Eddie can feel Gareth’s breath on his face, and it isn’t particularly nice, but this will do.
“Dude, what the fuck?” Eddie says, and he hears Gareth sigh.
“She was cute.”
“For you, maybe,” there’s a frantic edge to Eddie’s voice, he notices this, but what else can he do? He’s had four terrible beers already, no food in his stomach, and the beginning of the acrid taste of anxiety building up in his stomach.
“You didn’t think she was cute?” Gareth is looking down, unable to face Eddie.
“It’s not that,” he sighs, then presses his side to the van. “I’ve told you many times that-”
“Yes, yes, I know. So you don’t do this. Okay. But what if it was something more? I mean this girl, you know, she was really something.”
“What, in the fifteen minutes you got to talk to her, both very drunk, you saw someone truly special?”
“You’re such a…” Gareth motions with his hands, as if crushing Eddie’s head with them, and Eddie wishes he would. “Fine, okay. No more girls for you. You can… get drunk alone, or whatever it is you like to do.”
There’s a silence. Eddie stares at him for a while, but Gareth is looking somewhere else, and then the ground starts to spin a little. “We should just sleep, for now.”
Gareth nods and silently goes inside the van. It’s Eddie’s turn to sleep in the passenger seat, so he makes himself comfortable, takes the scratchy blanket from under the seat and takes off his shirt. At least it’s a warm enough night.
♦
September, 1986
When they arrive at Indiana, the leaves are already wrinkling enough to fall quick to the ground. He sort of missed this, he sort of always does, the way fall makes its way into their lives each year with shades of orange and brown, how it’s slow at first and then settles in an instant.
They drive past main street with all the cute little stores, past the local cinema, through houses and parks. They left only two months ago but Eddie can feel time has passed, summer is gone, almost, and he promised he’d never come back to this place again, this town that almost killed him way too many times, yet here he is.
Gareth is driving which gives him enough time to look at the scenery. He didn’t miss this part. The dollhouse nature in every corner, every perfectly cut lawn with their ironed flag waving in the morning mists, men in golf attire reading the newspaper in white painted front porches, their wives in almost 50s fashion walking their mini terriers with pink bows on their heads – both of them. How exhausting. Eddie lights a cigarette, and blows his pollution into their cotton candy dream.
He doesn’t like being so cynical, of course, but these are the suburbs, and it’s almost ridiculous how clean everything is, how nice and perfect, how fake. And anyway, he’d never step foot in this side of town if it wasn’t for good reason. There’s a particular house they have to visit, a particular kid he owes a DnD game to.
Gareth stops the engine, the front door opens, and it’s like no time has gone by at all. He’s still in high school (still, in high school) and he’s hanging out with these terribly funny kids that make him feel some sort of ache in the stomach, a good ache, a good knot in his throat when they scream laugh at one of his jokes or win a game after a long, tedious battle. Kids who he knows don’t fit anywhere else, and he knows they’re brilliant in every sense, and he loves them, of course he does. They’ll go on to have happy lives without him, but remembering those high school years with fondness, no bitterness at all, none of the bad stuff; it was all good.
Dustin runs out the door, and he’s there again. Eddie jumps out of the van to hug him, Dustin collapses in his arms. “Hey, kid,” Eddie tries to say all nonchalant , but he’s missed him, and Dustin knows.
“Missed me, oh mighty one?”
“What, with all the stuff I got going on? Barely thought of you at all.”
“Sure, I believe that actually, because touring in a stinky, crowded van must have been your dream life,” he says, dead serious, and Eddie tries to remain serious too, but when their eyes meet, they both burst in laughter.
“It was fun, had its great moments.”
“Made out with a lot of chicks?”
Eddie scoffs in disbelief. “Like I’m telling you that.”
They settle in the living room, where miss Henderson has prepared them some coffee and chocolate chip cookies, homemade by the look of it. Eddie makes sure to thank her, makes sure the band thanks her, and they all sit around the sofas. The room is suddenly small, with all of them crowding the space. Eddie never thought of them as a big bunch, but here they are, Doug standing in the corner, him and Gareth and Jeff squeezed in one sofa, Dustin in the Lay-Z boy by the door. The remaining sofa is free on account of the presents there, all wrapped up nicely, as if it was Christmas.
“So,” Gareth starts, sipping on his steaming coffee and finally breaking the suddenly awkward silence. “What’s with the presents?”
Dustin perks up. They’re small, square boxes, three of them. “For the Byers.”
“Oh yeah, yeah I remember,” Jeff says. “The older brother, what’s his face, he’s with Wheeler’s sister, right?”
“Jonathan?” Eddie remembers. He hasn’t talked to him since… he can’t even recall.
“Yeah, maybe, I don’t know, whatever,” Dustin mutters, then takes a cookie. “I guess I got him something as well. But it’s mostly for Will and El.”
“Are they coming…” Eddie looks around, then straight at Dustin, “now?”
Dustin stands up. He paces in front of them, munching on his cookie and leaving crumbles all over. “Yes, Eddie, they’re coming. Everyone’s coming. Surprise! You know, I thought of all the things you’d change, you being late wouldn’t be one of them.”
Eddie raises his eyebrows, searching for an answer. Before he can find a witty enough comeback, the doorbell rings, and what unfolds is pure chaos.
It’s almost like Christmas day, with every family member coming over, all at the same time, and the house congested with perfume, body heat, laughter and what did you do over the summer, how are the kids, how’s everything. Except these are the kids, and there’s too many of them. First it’s Will, Mike and El, and the three of them along Dustin hug for what seems like an hour. After which, right on time, arrive Max and Lucas, their cheeks flushed.
They’re all over. Now Jeff and Doug are standing in the corner, fumbling with the curtains, clearly in need of a drink. Eddie and Gareth have remained seated, but there are just too many people, too many different fragrances, voices, hormones.
The cookies disappear immediately, as well as the presents, which El and Will open with an excitement Eddie’s sure has never seen in his life. For Will, it’s a set of paint brushes which look considerably expensive. For El, a set of crayons, but not the kid stuff, these look legit, like a professional painter. Eddie remembers Will now. He’s Will the Wise, the artist kid, the one Mike wouldn’t shut up about when they first met.
“I thought this was gonna be like, a short game, then dip out,” Gareth whispers into Eddie’s ear. Which makes no sense, honestly, cause even if he yelled, the comment wouldn’t be heard for the kid’s loud talking.
“Me too,” Eddie says, then gets up. “Hey Dustin, mind if I head out for a smoke?”
Dustin looks him up and down, a look which means ‘you can do what you want, but mostly no’. “Well, Steve will be here any minute, then we’ll start. So, be quick, I guess. I don’t want you stinking up my house, Munson.”
Eddie takes a moment to take in the information. “Steve?”
Dustin frowns at him, then continues chatting to Will, like it doesn’t matter at all. Like he didn’t even hear him. So now Eddie definitely needs a cigarette. He takes Gareth’s arm and drags him outside to the front door.
In the sun, door closed, noise canceled, the morning appears brighter, better. He loves those kids, of course he does, but God. “I didn’t know Steve was coming,” he says, as casual as possible. He takes a cigarette from his pocket, and his hands tremble a little, and oh fuck.
“Yeah, I didn’t know any of this shit was going to happen. Henderson tricked us,” Gareth takes a cigarette as well, and Eddie lights it for him.
“Yeah, yeah,” he laughs, he really tries to come off as cool, like that name didn’t provoke some weird reaction he can’t totally understand. He laughs, takes a drag of the cigarette, coughs on the smoke. But it’s cool. It’s Steve. It’s… whatever.
His mind goes back to high school, too many moons ago, to bullying and screaming and caring about what other teens wore. To hairspray-heavy heads laughing at the cafeteria table, someone wearing a polo shirt, someone graduating just in time, the golden boy. The King.
“So I’ve been talking to some friends who live in Chicago,” Gareth starts, and Eddie tries to let go of the sudden gust of anxiety. Why should he care? High school was so long ago, surely that dickhead has not remained as he was back then. Surely. “…some shows in the city, and you know, actually get paid. This sounds like the real deal, doesn’t it?”
“Hm?” Eddie lets out a cloud of smoke and he’s sweating, he realizes. And of course, he has spaced out what Gareth was saying. “Sorry, Chicago… what?” he motions with his hands, the ash of the cigarette falling on the freshly cut lawn.
“A gig, dude. A real gig. Not just some bar. An actual concert space. You always wanted to live in Chicago, didn’t you?”
The words resonate in his head. Chicago. Big city. He had never been to an actual big city before, with skyscrapers and all that. it definitely sounds good. “When?”
“In two days. This Saturday. Jake also said there’d be producers and shit. Eddie, I think we could really go big here. It’s our one chance.”
“At what?”
Gareth takes one last drag of his cigarette. “Becoming real stars.”
Eddie chuckles at the thought. Wouldn’t that be nice. “We’d need an actual album. There’s barely three finished songs.”
“Actual albums come with actual contracts. We just need to sign with some hot shot producer. Then everything will be smooth sailing from then on.”
“Do you really believe that?” Eddie would like to; he would like to think they have brilliant futures ahead of them. But the truth was, Hawkins seemed to be the only hole he could crawl in. When all was said and done, there was not much optimism left, and with a barely passed high school diploma and no other work experience, at twenty years old, Eddie felt the world was constantly scheming against him.
The door behind them opens, and an exasperated Dustin looks at them. “Come on. The game is starting.”
“But what about--” Eddie starts, knowing he shouldn’t ask. Dustin reads his mind, and simply says:
“He can’t make it.”
It’s almost 11pm when Miss Henderson calls them out. She is trying to watch a show and they are being too loud. “Dusty, it’s a week-day night!” she tells them, exceedingly polite. Dustin waves her off, trying to focus on the game. Eddie is the one to stop them.
“Alright, maybe we should call it a night,” he says.
Dustin looks at him with puppy eyes. They’re sprawled on the carpeted floor of the living room, the board in the middle of the giant circle they’ve made. Eddie sits at the front and the kids surround him like his little subjects, eager to hear his next story. Even El and Max, who at first didn’t seem too excited about the game, ended up being into it, with their mage and knight characters. By his side, Mike sighs, signaling to Dustin something only they understand.
“Eddie,” Dustin starts, “you’re leaving in like, what, two days? And all we got were seven hours of game?”
“We’ve been here for seven hours?” Max says, cheeks flushed.
Lucas gets up to open a window. A breeze of cool air immediately refreshes the room.
“Dear friends, this is not the end,” Eddie remarks. He stands up, does a little curtsy. He knows they love it when he’s overdramatic like this. “I have given you the tools, the stories and the characters to go on with your adventures. I was simply a vessel, offering guidance and knowledge. However, every master has to give up his crown, and the time has come for me to give up mine. Someone else must take my place.”
The kids hold their breath in anticipation. Mike shifts in place, Lucas clears his throat. Eddie turns to Dustin, who looks reverent, like a king in the making. It is him, after all. No one else could hold this position like him. Eddie places a solemn palm on top of his curls. “Henderson,” he declares. “Your time has come. I crown thee, my new Dungeon Master.”
Lucas starts to clap, he gets up, everyone does, and they all cheer on Dustin, who tries to remain stern but the happiness is glowing through him. Eddie motions for his bandmates to move.
“You’re leaving already?” Dustin calls after him.
“I want to sleep a bit tonight. See you tomorrow for breakfast?”
Dustin nods, grinning at him. Eddie salutes him, then leaves the house.
They’re back home, so they all go back to their respective houses. This should be a moment of comfort, after months of sleeping in their old van and mold-ridden motels, but somehow, Eddie can’t find a strand of peace. He has to go back to the trailer park, the life he’s always known. He swore he wouldn’t come back, yet here he is again, all for a kid he’s too fond of.
He drops Doug last. They say goodbye and Doug gives him a weary look, they know what this means for Eddie. Then Eddie drives, slow and steady through the dark roads surrounded by woods, far away from town.
He could find the slightest bit of solace if his uncle was still in the trailer, but he left only a couple weeks ago to live with his sister, Sara, who just moved into town to take care of him. He’s been sick, something that’s not entirely cancer, but close, and Eddie has been terrified every minute of it. There’s a heavy guilt pooling in his gut, an understanding that this is not something he can fix. Wayne has told him time and time again to live his life, that he’ll be fine. The Munsons are a hard bunch, he says, it’s just an infection.
Wayne’s his only family. If he lost him, he doesn’t know what he’d do.
Eddie parks the van in the usual spot. It’s not like the trailer has been abandoned. His aunt has come here frequently to clean it; otherwise, the authorities would impound it and that’s the last thing they need.
He finds a nicely kept trailer, even nicer than when they lived there. Inside it smells of pine cleaner and detergent. The old, stagnant cigarette stink has been aired out, and he can actually breathe deep now. He goes straight to his room. Sara had the decency not to touch anything, so it is as he left it months ago. A mess.
Beneath his bed there is an Altoids tin filled with pills. They’re nothing strong, just some painkillers he got prescribed when he broke his arm, and which he has slowly collected in times of emergency. This is one of such times. He knows he won’t be able to make it through the night without a little help, so he swallows a couple of them and lays in his bed, clothes still on.
Thoughts of Steve flow inevitably into his mind. He hates this. He thought he was over it. Truth was, since Steve has graduated, he hadn’t given him a second thought. He saw him occasionally working at various jobs through town, hanging out with Dustin, living his normal, boring life. Eddie simply forgot about him, or tried to. Crushes are never good, especially not on straight boys.
And yet, he always thought there was something different to Steve, something he couldn’t quite pin-point. The way he spoke, his tone, it was softer when compared to other boys at school. It had been a couple of times in which he and his friend would come up to Eddie to buy some drugs, so they would meet by the bench in the woods. Tommy was all nerves, boisterous, wearing his masculinity like a metallic shield. Steve, however, appeared more genuine. He had nothing to hide, and nothing to compensate for.
Steve Harrington. The King. The thought of him still living in Hawkins surprised him. By now, he thought Steve would have moved to some big city, become a big banker like his dad, earn some big bucks. He wonders what he might be doing.
All this wondering leaves Eddie even more distressed, so he takes another pill, then smokes a joint. He relaxes a little, but needs more, and yet knows he shouldn’t. He goes for a quick walk around the trailer park, by now it must be nearly 3am. He wonders, he wonders. All his life it seems that all he’s done has been wondering. About the future, about the past, about every single person, every single thing.
He comes back to the trailer, takes off all his clothes, takes a quick shower, takes another pill. By the time birds start singing outside he manages to get some sleep. He wakes up an hour later, and it’s time to go.
Eddie had promised Dustin a breakfast and some catching up. With the game, they barely had any time to talk, and with the tour, Eddie could never find a phone long enough to call.
The kid waits in his front porch steps when Eddie arrives. He climbs into the passenger seat and turns the volume up. They both rock to the music on the way to town, and fall comfortably into their dynamic.
“Wait,” Dustin says when they are driving through downtown. “I wanna say hello to Steve. You can see him too.”
Eddie swallows. “Sure. Where to?”
“Family Video.”
So, Eddie drives. He can’t say no, why would he? It’s just Steve, he’s just some guy from high school he had a crush on a couple of years ago. It was nothing. Eddie’s had other crushes, they came and went, it was fine. He bottles his feelings and buries them deep down so they never come back again, because they can’t, it wouldn’t be good for anyone. It’s fine. It’s cool.
He parks in an alleyway and they head to the store. The streets are quite busy and so is the store. He has been here a few times to rent some B-side horror movies, but he wasn’t aware Steve worked there. At the register, Robin is talking to a punk dude who has his nails painted a bright shade of violet. Eddie ogles for a second before anyone notices, then switches his stare towards Robin. She looks the same as always: messy make-up, straw-colored hair with a nice haircut, cute smile.
When she’s done with the client, she smiles at them. “Hiya,” she waves.
“Hey Robin,” Dustin leans on the counter. “Where’s Steve-O?”
“He didn’t tell you? Hollywood awaits, dude.”
“Wait, seriously?”
Robin chuckles. “Nah, not yet, anyway. He’s out sending some audition tapes.”
Before Dustin can say anything, Robin answers: “Yes, he looks as silly as you imagine.”
Dustin breaks into laughter, and so does Robin. “Oh man, I need to watch those. Do you have some copies?”
Robin holds onto the counter, entire body shaking from laughter, and tries to calm herself down. “Well, you know me, kiddo. You know me,” she offers him her palm and they shake hands, still laughing.
Eddie stands awkward and baffled, not fully understanding the situation. Robin seems to notice when she sees him, eyebrows raised, arms crossed over his chest. “Hi Eddie,” she salutes. “Our dear Steve has finally decided to become a star.”
“A star?”
“An actor,” Dustin clarifies. “I don’t know what’s gotten into him, but lately he’s been obsessed with acting, and he just,” he looks over at Robin, shaking his head. “He filmed some audition tapes, I guess. Not that I don’t believe in his ability to act…”
“… but it’s funny anyway,” Robin finishes for him. “You know, one of them was for like, a computer thing, I don’t know, and he kept messing up the take. You should have seen him, he was so nervous.”
They both paint a picture of Steve that Eddie didn’t know, hadn’t even considered. An awkward, geeky guy who’s into movies, who wants to star in them, who is laughed at by his closest friends. It’s endearing, so honest. It’s a Steve he’s genuinely interested in knowing, a potential friend.
Eventually, him and Dustin leave and head for a diner.
They talk about life, as much as a 15-year-old and a 20-year-old can talk about life. Dustin tells him about his worries, his dreams, his expectations, all this excitement condensed in his slight form. Eddie attempts to give him advice in everything he can. He’s not that old anyway, but he’s seen a lot, and Dustin is the younger brother he never had. It makes him feel whole, to have someone he cares for so much, and who clearly cares for him, too.
“You know,” Eddie says, after a moment of silence in which they both eat their respective breakfasts. “I’m heading for Chicago next.”
“That sounds cool, big city boy, eh?”
Eddie lets out a soft chuckle. “Yeah…”
“And where will you live next?” Dustin asks, mouth full of bacon.
“What do you mean?”
“You’ll have to live somewhere. Or will you always be in your van? That’s cool, too.”
Eddie rests his head on his hands. It surprises him, how he hadn’t thought of that. It hadn’t even crossed his mind. “I don’t have a specific place in mind,” he says. “But I guess I’ll settle somewhere.”
Dustin smiles at him and continues eating. He’s young, a bit innocent, but endlessly smart. Eddie knows a bright future awaits him, for him and the other kids, they will go places. That’s what they always say, adults and people who know stuff; you’re going places. Eddie’s never gone anywhere, and even now, when he’s cruising the country, his heart does not follow. He can drive as much as he can, but the geography of his soul remains the same.
Maybe Chicago will bring better times for him. Maybe.
♦
December, 1986
He snorts the last line of coke from the pocket mirror the blonde girl is holding. She cheers for him as he breathes out the adrenaline. The brunette whoops and slaps his ass. He doesn’t know their names, and he couldn’t care less. The bathroom is squeaky clean and their noses are fully powdered, so they exit, each leaving to their respective corner of the party.
The music is booming with a New Wave song he hates, but his head is swimming in drugs he can’t even begin to count, so it all evens out. There are all kinds of people here, in this massive apartment. He can’t remember who’s the owner, he just knows some guy Jake invited them to his New Year’s Eve party, him and Gareth. He wasn’t sure about coming, but when they got there, they were greeted with free drugs and the hottest people in town, so how could he say no? The alcohol and the food flow through them and they dance in a frenzied choreography. Gareth has made out with at least three actresses and he’s been touched everywhere by people who claim to be fans. This must be the dream everyone talks about, and Eddie embraces it fully.
The business is going okay. After their first gig in the city, many more came, and with them some cash, actual money that afforded them a cramped place to live. Here they are, it’s stressful and loud, but Eddie wouldn’t have it any other way. His days consist of waking up at 12pm, writing songs, eating and smoking, going for a walk; he travels the city in search of inspiration, he empties his account on drugs and cassette tapes. He frequents clubs where men kiss and he remains in the sidelines, taking it all in, a new way of living.
Jake or whoever’s house is gigantic, the biggest he’s been in, so he decides to explore every room in his drugged stupor. He finds a bedroom where three people are fucking; another with four lava lamps; a third one that’s smaller, darker, where a girl sobs in the bed. He walks in, she doesn’t notice.
“Are you okay?” he asks her, inching closer, but remaining at a careful distance.
She looks up. Her face is smeared in mascara and blush. Her hair is huge, almost as big as his. “Do you have bump?”
Eddie laughs nervously, looking to the side. “I’m not sure you need one.”
She stands up, crawling up to him, hanging onto his clothes. “I do, I really do. C’mon guy, everyone here’s loaded with somethin’.”
“Girlie, get off,” he shakes her away, stepping aside. She starts to laugh, then lays on the bed. He exits the room, some sweat pearling up on his back. He decided to wear the leather pants he bought at a second-hand store, and he’s starting to regret it. The walls are closing in, the air is getting hotter, he needs to get some air.
He makes it through the crowded room, where smoke clouds around them in a violet haze. There is a balcony on the side of the room so he decides to go there. Hopefully he doesn’t fall off.
Outside the breeze stings his cheeks, and he wishes he brough his coat. Chicago is covered in a thick layer of bright snow, illuminated yellow by the streetlights. They’re in the 12th floor so there’s a great view, the city spreading out around him. He closes the sliding door and notices someone sitting on the corner of the balcony. Under the faint light, he recognizes his features.
Steve.
He looks up, and smiles. “Hey,” he says, his voice flat and warm.
“Hey yourself,” Eddie responds, and in seconds he feels himself sober up. It’s the cold, of course, and something else. “How’s life?”
They look at each other for a moment, longer than any of them intend. It’s profound, and maybe it’s the drugs filling up their bloodstreams, but there is something there, a sort of understanding. Eddie edges closer to Steve, and they remain like that for a while, in silence, observing the snowflakes fall.
“I never thought I’d see you again, Munson,” Steve murmurs after a while.
Eddie takes out a cigarette. “I never thought you’d remember my name,” he offers one to Steve, who declines. He lights it, and the orange light illuminates both their faces, casting soft shadows around them.
Steve scoffs. “Of course I do. You’re all that kid talks about.”
“Dustin?”
“He’s tried to reach you, you know? Many times.”
Eddie stares at him through the smoke. The guilt has grown heavy over the months. He never gave him his new number, no one from Hawkins knows anything about his new life. He likes it this way, but he misses Dustin too. He’s just a kid, and they were great friends. He takes another drag from his cigarette.
“Anyway, I told him it was fine, you’d probably call back sometime,” Steve goes on. “I don’t think you’re the kind to just ghost, right?”
“Right,” Eddie smiles. “Things have been very busy.”
“That’s what I told him,” Steve eyes him, staring at his trembling hands and his messy hair. Eddie notices his questioning eyes and a slight stomachache perks up, a familiar sensation of drug overconsumption.
“So what brings you to Chicago?” Eddie asks now, trying to avoid the topic of Dustin.
“Opportunities, friends, contacts, why do people move here? It’s not New York and it’s not LA--.”
“It’s the next best thing,” Eddie adds, and they smile at each other.
“Yes, exactly. I’m just doing some theater,” he passes a hand through his hair, combed back and fully gelled.
“Acting, huh? That’s interesting. Has it worked out?”
“It’s kind of working out. It’s…” he sighs, looks over the city. The gloom makes his face appear longer, older somehow, and tired. He’s definitely tired, Eddie knows the look all too well. His back is hunched and his shoulders drop, the cadence of his voice. The city wears you out, it wears your dreams out till they are nothing but dust. “I’ve met some great people. So, yeah. I take what I can get.”
Steve turns and looks at Eddie, he holds his gaze. “Five minutes to midnight and no one to kiss,” Steve murmurs, the sentence barely leaving his lips. They remain there, locked in a spell, until someone rushes outside.
“Steve-O!” he yells, his voice cracking. “Steve-O, my boy, you’re gonna be on TV!”
The man jumps to Steve’s arms. He reeks of the sourest sweat Eddie’s ever smelled. “What?” Steve shouts in excitement.
“The guys from the commercial. They called your apartment, Lucy phoned in. You got the part, boyo!” the man kisses his cheek and leaves again, closing the door behind him. Steve stays in place, paralyzed with the new information.
“Congratulations, big boy,” Eddie laughs, smoking the last of the cigarette and leaving it on the windowsill behind him.
“I can’t believe it, I—” Steve chuckles, nervously at first, then with pure joy. He looks at Eddie and hugs him. “You know what this means?”
Eddie shakes his head, amused.
“This is my big shot. This commercial, it’s huge. They got real stars there, from California. You know the guy from Columbo?”
“Columbo?”
“Yes! He’s there! Some other people too, it’s incredible. They’re shooting it right here, in the city. Oh God, this is it Munson.”
They grin at each other, some snowflakes glowing on Steve’s hair. Behind them, they hear chanting, down on the street too. Ten, nine, eight. Eddie’s heart flutters, because he’s young, and the city’s endless, and he’s had too many drugs tonight. He gets up, drawing closer to Steve, who has the dumbest grin on.
But it isn’t Eddie who starts it. Steve leans in first, placing a long kiss on his lips. That’s all there is, lips, their noses touching, their bodies inches apart. When the cheering and the honking begins, Steve pulls apart. “Happy New Year, Munson,” he says, then leaves.
Eddie shivers in the cold of December. No, January. It is January. It is a new year. He gazes over the city and sighs, the entire world ahead of him.