Boltedfruit Archive

This is his least favorite part.

When everything is said and done, when Nancy leaves with Jonathan and the kids are home, and Robin is dropped back off—Steve’s alone.

His house is a monolith.

This dark, empty box. A toy chest filled with nothing but one little doll; him. And he’s boring. Alone. Unloved.

And Eddie is dead.

And Eddie died.

And that was hours ago.

And nobody but Dustin seems to even care.

And Eddie is gone , and Steve is alone, again.

So he bypasses his front door, goes barreling into his backyard and falls to his knees at the edge of the pool. His tears fall loud and fat against the cement, until he wearily crawls to the very lip.

He’s furious.

Why him, he asks his reflection. Why him and not me?

He weeps.

Why anybody but him? Why does he get to stay alive when he doesn’t mean anything?

Steve sobs and stares at his reflection, the dark blue shadow of the bottom of the pool.

This is his least favorite part.

Then, a ripple. A single red line. A whisper.

The line cracks, splits apart. Spews bubbles and foam and radiates a warmth so bright Steve laughs.

A whisper clings behind his ears, to his mind, and he keeps laughing.

And he thinks, finally.