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Steve knew his parents didn’t love him, he wasn’t a complete idiot. But that didn’t mean that he didn’t want their attention.
When he was young, and his parents still attended church, he would desperately try to crawl into his mother’s lap, only to be shooed off and scolded for not paying attention. He would sneak into his father’s study, tug on his pant leg, ask to play catch or any other game, just to be reprimanded for interrupting his father’s work. His parents would throw parties and his house would fill with strangers. Business men and their wives. He would dart in between everyone’s legs, clinging to his mother’s skirt. He would try to be quiet, try to stay out of the way but would inevitably be sent to his room. It’s boring down here his mother would say it’s just grown up stuff, why don’t you go play with your toys. And he knew his toys were nice, he knew they were expensive because his parents told him so. But he didn’t care. He wanted someone to play with.
He tried everything to win their affection. If he whined or made any sort of fuss, he was met with a cuff on the back of the head from his father. A stern look and a clipped That’s not how Harrington boys act. If he was well behaved and quiet his parents took no notice of him at all. Occasionally, his mother would offer an unenthused that’s nice dear without looking up from whatever she was doing. But most of the time, that just made him feel worse.
When Steve turned six years old, his father decided he was too old for hugs. When he turned eight, his mother decided he was too old to hold her hand.
He didn’t know what he was doing wrong.
One day in 7th grade, one of the boys in his class wouldn't stop teasing him because he had cried when they reached the ending of ‘Old Yeller’. At a loss for words, Steve grabbed the stapler off of the teachers desk and lobbed it at the other boy's head. Needless to say, he was sent to the principal's office.
Normally his mother would have dealt with something like this, but she had gone to the city to go shopping with her friends that day. So it was his father who picked him up. It was his father who sat across from the principal as he explained what happened while Steve sulked in the chair next to him, eyes fixed on the ground. It was his father who grabbed the back of his shirt and all but dragged him out of the office when all was said and done. His father who whipped him around to face him, jabbed a finger in his face and harshly stated This is not how I raised you, how dare you embarrass me like this?
Steve looked back at his father but he couldn’t pay attention to anything else he said. It was the first time that he could remember his father actually looking into his eyes. It was exhilarating and Steve had felt high off of it for nearly a month afterwards.
But the feeling faded eventually and Steve resolved to chase it again.
One day at recess, he pushed another boy to the ground. Not enough to hurt his peer, but just enough to get in trouble.
This time his mother picked him up. She had the decency to act concerned in front of the teachers, but Steve knew she didn’t care. She easily wrote off his behaviour as boys will be boys. But when they got home, his father was furious. He glared at him from across the dinner table and Steve glared right back.
“I don’t want this to happen again, Steven,” his father declared.
Steve didn’t respond.
“Steven,” his father warned.
“Yes sir,” he finally replied. Lying through his teeth.
A few months later, there was another spat at recess. This time his father slapped him across the face when he got home. Steve didn’t care. It was better than being invisible.
And so the fights continued. They became more frequent. More intense. And despite that, his father’s concern lessened. The lectures turned into deep sighs. The slaps were traded in for the silent treatment. Steve was becoming invisible again. He was being written off as a lost cause. And he was furious.
By the time he was a sophomore, he was getting into some kind of fist fight nearly once a week. It was easier in high school. The teachers cared less. And the students were less likely to rat him out. No one wanted to admit they got beat up. And it wasn’t like he was going around beating up everyone who was weaker than him. He took his fair share of punches. That was part of the thrill. He knew how to instigate. He knew when to throw the first punch and when to let the first punch land on him. He never picked on someone who he knew wouldn’t hit back.
At some point, he couldn’t say when, it stopped being about his parents. They stopped caring. But Steve kept fighting.
He was addicted at this point. He liked the feel of the other boys’ breath on his face. He liked the feel of their arms. He liked the feeling of being thrown around a bit. The feeling of getting roughed up. When he thought too much about it, he got a slippery feeling in the pit of his stomach. So he just didn’t think about it.
Now it was late October. The weather had started to cool off and everyone was talking about their Halloween plans. Steve left the school through the rear exit to avoid running into anyone. He was pissed because he had failed Mrs. Click’s history test and he wasn’t in the mood to talk about parties. He was particularly annoyed because he had actually studied for this test, or at least he had tried to. But no matter how many times he reviewed his notes, he just couldn’t force all the names and dates to stay in his brain. He let out a tired sigh as he pushed through the doors. Whatever he thought, he would just have to try harder.
Steve immediately noticed Eddie leaning against the wall, smoking a cigarette. He cringed internally, hoping he could avoid any conversation.
“Where you off to in such a hurry big boy?”
Of fucking course. He knew that Eddie was only bothering him because he was clearly already in a bad mood. That was Eddie, he loved to provoke. Loved to stir the pot.
“None of your business Munson,” he shot back over his shoulder, praying Eddie would leave him alone.
“Oooh so secretive Harrington,” he flicked his cigarette, “got something you're hiding?”
Steve whipped around.
“What do you want Munson,” he demanded, hands on his hips.
“Uh oh,” Eddie needled, bringing his eyebrows together in mock concern, “I made him angry.”
Steve inhaled deeply, he’d already had detention earlier that week for a set-to with Danny Zimmerman, he knew he shouldn’t start another fight. So he threw a glare at Eddie and turned to leave.
“Oh, come on, that’s no fun!” Eddie called after him. “Forgot how to use your big boy words?”
Screw it, Steve thought to himself.
He turned and threw a punch, hoping he could end this quickly. But Eddie ducked just in time and managed to avoid being hit. Then Eddie gave him a hard shove and Steve stumbled back a few steps. He regained his balance and grabbed Eddie’s shirt, pushing him up against the wall. He stopped there for a moment, his hands fisted in the worn material of Eddie’s clothes. He stopped because Eddie had stopped fighting back. Instead he was staring at Steve, something indecipherable in his gaze. And then Steve could have sworn Eddie tilted his back. Lifted his chin just a little bit. Parted his lips in that way that girls did right before he kissed them.
And for the briefest of moments, Steve felt himself lean in.
His stomach dropped and he was suddenly overcome with a hollow shaky feeling. He quickly let go of the other boy and stepped away. He blinked slowly, trying to convince himself he wasn’t just staring at Eddie Munson’s lips.
“Hey man, I gotta go,” he mumbled hurriedly.
Eddie didn’t say anything, just stayed pressed up against the wall.
“We’ll finish this later, 4pm, in the woods on the North side of the quarry.”
Eddie nodded. Steve didn’t wait for him to say anything else, he turned and left. He ran a shaky hand through his hair. What the hell was he thinking?
~
Eddie walked through the forest, the autumn leaves crunching under his feet. He had no idea why he was following through with this. He had no reason to believe that Steve Harrington wasn’t about to beat his ass for looking at him the wrong way. Why the hell had he even pulled that little move? He told himself he was just being cheeky, trying to get in Steve’s head. And well it had worked, hadn’t it? Steve had released him. But the thing was, Eddie had expected him to let him go about his life after that. He was not expecting Steve to invite him out into the woods to finish this later. What the hell did that even mean?
But there was something about the way Steve had looked at him. There was something that Eddie couldn’t quite read in his eyes. And Eddie had always had a bad habit of letting his curiosity get the better of him. So could he be blamed for wanting to see what the popular prettyboy jock wanted to talk to him about in private?
Steve was leaning on a tree, arms crossed with one knee bent under him when Eddie approached. He looked nervous. Which seemed strange.
“Did you tell anyone you were coming here?”
“No,” Eddie replied.
Steve pushed off the tree and walked towards him. He glanced around to make sure no one else was around and then eyed Eddie cautiously.
“What do you want Harrington,” he huffed.
‘“Push me,” Steve stated flatly.
“What?”
“Like that,” Steve gave a one handed shove to Eddie’s shoulder as he said it. “Push me.”
“What the hell man!” Eddie reciprocated his shove without thinking.
Steve pushed back harder. Two hands this time. Eddie stumbled backwards.
“What’s wrong with you dude?” Eddie shoved Steve, even harder. One hand connecting with each of his shoulders. But this time, Steve grabbed the front of Eddie’s shirt, pulling him forward as he stepped back and the two tumbled to the ground. Eddie narrowly avoided kneeing Steve in the groin. He landed hard on his hands while his knees dug into the ground on either side of Steve’s right leg. How Steve didn’t smash his head on the ground was a miracle to Eddie.
A slew of gripes flashed through his mind but his protests died on his tongue when he realized how close their faces were. They were breathing the same goddamn air for fucks sakes. He hovered there for a moment, his palms sinking into the dirt on each side of Steve’s face.
He would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about kissing Steve Harrington before. Come on, who hadn’t? But it was always in an unserious way. In that far off fantasy way you dream of kissing your favourite celebrity. Never in a million years would Eddie have thought he could actually be face to face with the star of the basketball team.
Eddie knew he had to stand up, he knew he had to get off of Steve. He knew Steve was only going to give him more hell for hesitating so long. But he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t make his body move. And to Eddie’s credit, Steve hadn’t moved either. He was still gripping the front of his shirt. Eddie became acutely aware of how Steve smelled. Sweat mixed with a cologne he couldn’t name but that smelled expensive. Hairspray and soap. Steve stared back at him and Eddie could’ve sworn he saw Steve’s gaze travel to his lips and back up to his eyes.
So he gave in. He leaned forward. He kissed Steve Harrington. And Steve Harrington kissed him back. Steve fucking Harrington actually fucking kissed him back.
The kiss was hungry. Edging towards frantic. Like both of them were trying to get their fill before this moment disappeared. Like neither of them knew how long this would last. He felt Steve’s grip on his shirt tighten. He resisted the urge to grab a fistful of Steve’s hair, keeping both hands planted firmly on either side of his head.
Eddie had no clue what the fuck was happening. He waited for the moment Steve would throw him off, demand what the hell he thought he was doing. It was inconceivable that Steve Harrington actually wanted to kiss him. He waited to be called a freak or a fag. But that didn’t happen. What happened instead was almost more unbelievable.
Eddie almost didn’t notice, they had both been taking small gulps of air between kisses. Both breathless from the adrenaline. Then Steve let out a small choked gasp and when Eddie pulled away he noticed Steve was crying.
What the fuck?
“Woah, hey,” Eddie began. Steve squeezed his eyes shut as the tears leaked down his face. He was clearly holding his breath. Like if he didn’t move he could just disappear.
“Dude, breathe,” Eddie urged.
With that, Steve sucked in a sharp breath and then let out a strangled sob.
Eddie was so far out of his depth.
He sat up, bringing Steve with him as the other boy had still not released his grip on Eddie’s shirt. Jesus, he was basically sitting in Steve’s lap. Steve was muttering something under his breath. Eddie could just make out the words dad and gonna kill me.
“Easy, easy,” Eddie tried his best to soothe, but comforting people wasn’t exactly his forte. Especially when those people were Steve Harrington apparently.
He gently pried Steve’s hands off of him and shifted to sit on the ground. Was he supposed to give him space? Give him a hug? What the hell did Steve want from him? Why would he invite him into the forest to make out only to burst into tears? It made no damn sense.
“Sorry,” Steve rasped as he ran his hands through his hair, trying and failing to compose himself.
“No, it’s uh, it’s okay.”
Nice work Munson, Eddie thought to himself, real comforting.
He thought about reaching out. Moving closer and placing a hand on Steve’s back. He thought about pushing the hair out of his face, wiping his tears away with the pad of his thumb. He thought about holding Steve’s face in both of his hands, bringing their foreheads together so that they could share the same breath again. Whispering things like it’s okay, it’s going to be okay. Things like you’re safe, no one can hurt you here. He thought about holding Steve’s hand.
He sat there thinking all of these things, but doing none of them.
He watched Steve collect himself. Watched him packing up each of his emotions and stowing them away inside himself. He wanted to tell him to stop. That he didn’t have to hide it all away. That of all people, Eddie was one of the few who might actually understand what he was going through.
Steve scrubbed a hand across his face, his eyes were red and puffy, but he wasn’t crying anymore.
They both sat on the ground, facing each other, but a healthy distance away now. Steve had both legs stretched out in front of him, his forearms resting on his thighs. He sat slightly hunched, so that his hair hung limply in front of his face. Eddie thought he looked like a little kid. He felt his heart clench.
“Sorry,” Steve said again. “That was pathetic.”
“Which part?” Eddie mused gently.
Steve looked at him and huffed out a laugh. Eddie laughed lightly as well. But he couldn’t help wondering. Was Steve talking about his emotional outburst? Was he talking about the kiss?
The silence buzzed between them. Alive with both of their racing thoughts. Who knows how long they sat there. It became clear Steve wasn’t going to share anything else and Eddie didn’t feel like it was his place to push.
Finally, Eddie spoke.
“Steve?”
Using his first name felt unfamiliar and intimate.
“Yeah?” he replied without looking up.
“I’m going to ask you something,” Eddie took a deep breath and continued, “and I just want you to answer. Okay? No thinking. No rationalizing. Just your gut response. Just yes or no. Okay?”
Steve stilled. Eddie could tell his back was up, but he couldn’t go on not knowing the other boy's answer.
“Okay?” He repeated.
“Okay,” Steve finally relented.
“The kiss,” Eddie paused, gathering his courage and eyeing the other boy. “Did you like it?”
Steve stiffened, Eddie could practically see the thoughts racing behind his eyes.
“Hey, I said no thinking.”
Silence stretched between them until it became almost unbearable. Eddie was ready to get up and leave. He was stupid. Stupid for thinking anyone could actually like him. Especially stupid for thinking Steve Harrington could like him. His brain buzzed, thinking of something to bite back with, a snide remark to hide his pain. But Steve’s reply interrupted his spiraling thoughts.
“Yes.”
It was so quiet Eddie wasn’t actually sure if Steve had said it out loud or just mouthed the word. But it didn’t matter. A wave of relief rushed through his body and he let out a small laugh.
“Thank god,” Eddie smiled. And after a moment added, “I liked it too.”
Steve didn’t reply, but his shoulders relaxed
“Would you, uh,” Eddie’s heart was hammering in his chest. Boy was he about to push the limit. But he didn’t care. He was feeling strangely bold and so he pushed on. “Do you want to do it again?”
Silence.
Eddie wondered if he really had pushed it too far. He wouldn’t be surprised. He always did. He never knew when to stop. Luckily, he was nudged out of these thoughts when he noticed Steve nodding. It was small, timid, but he was nodding.
“Okay. Great,” Eddie breathed. “It, uh, it doesn’t have to be now or anything-”
But Steve was already scooting closer.
And this time the kiss was soft. More tentative. Like Steve was scared Eddie might run away. And well, Eddie was scared Steve might run away. So he gently brought a hand up to Steve’s face. Ran his fingers along his cheek bone, around the back of his ear, down around the base of his head, finding an anchor at the back of his neck. And he felt Steve’s hand find his shoulder, run down the length of his arm, finding a place to rest on top of Eddie’s other hand on the ground. Eddie flipped his hand and intertwined their fingers. He could feel Steve’s steady pulse under the palm of his other hand. After a while, they paused, foreheads resting together.
“Steve,” Eddie breathed.
The other boy hummed in response.
“Why?” Eddie probed.
Steve leaned back, a puzzled expression on his face.
“Why me?” he repeated.
Steve bit his lip and looked away.
“I don’t really know,” he sighed, for a moment it seemed like that was all he was going to say. But then he added, “I think, the way you looked at me earlier, like you were looking at me. No one’s really looked at me like that before.”
Eddie studied him.
“I don’t know what you mean,” he stated plainly.
Steve glanced back at Eddie.
“Like that,” Steve emphasized, pointing a finger at him. “Normally people look at me and they see what they want to see. Everyone already has their own idea about who I am. My parents, the teachers, everyone at school.”
“What do those people see?”
“They see a rich asshole, a dumb jock, a failure,” he leaned back on his hands.
Eddie didn’t reply so Steve continued,
“You looked at me like you knew me, or like you wanted to know me,” Steve stared into the distance, he looked self-conscious. Vulnerable. “I don’t know, it sounds stupid now-”
“It’s not stupid,” Eddie interrupted. “I want to know you.”
“I don’t know,” Steve hesitated, “sometimes I think I’m not worth knowing. That maybe everyone’s right about me, I’m just a stupid prick with a loaded dad.”
“Well you like kissing boys,” Eddie commented.
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“Well that’s a surprise,” Eddie smiled. “I’m sure you’ve got a couple more surprises buried in you somewhere.”
“Yeah, I guess,” Steve looked back over at Eddie, a glint of something in his eyes. “So,” he continued, “I assume you also like kissing boys?”
Eddie smiled, offering an impish shrug.
“Yeah, I guess,” he parroted.
“Since when?” Steve asked.
“Since forever I think. You?”
“Since today.”
At that they both laughed, an easy honest laugh, and a gentle quietness settled over them. Eddie looked at Steve. Watched the way the setting sun caught on his skin. The way his eyes were shining with something heavy and unsaid. The way he bit his lip in thought.
“Hey,” Eddie whispered, “I won’t tell anyone if you won’t.”
“That might be best,” Steve sighed, “I just don’t know, my dad is…he would-” a pinched expression took over his face.
Eddie wanted to reach over and smooth it out with his thumb. Instead he said, “Hey, I get it. It’s okay.”
Steve gave a small smile.
“Thanks,” he said.
“Yeah,” Eddie replied.
And then Steve reached over and gingerly grabbed Eddie’s hand. He laced their fingers together, a faint pink creeping up his cheeks.
“Is this okay?” he asked quietly.
“Yeah,” Eddie said again.
And they sat there until the sun had fully set. Until the air around them got too cold to be sitting outside. And then until it got even colder. Both of them blanketed in a secret tenderness. A knowledge, or maybe just a hope, that things really would be okay.