Boltedfruit Archive

“I dare you.”

Steve is rolling his eyes, but Eddie’s dead serious.

He sips at his beer. It’s gone lukewarm from the summer heat leaching into his room, always too hot even with the window wide open. He looks to the ashtray, but finds no reprieve, not like he expected to. Their last cigarette burned out an hour or so ago and Eddie already smoked through the last of his weed.

“Let me get this straight, Munson. You expect me to go to a graveyard, at midnight, and play your little board game?”

“It’s not a board game, Steve, it’s—”

“A Ouija board, uh huh.” He takes another sip. Jabs at Eddie’s knee with his socked foot. “Where you have little wooden pieces that you move around a board. Sounds like a board game to me.”

“One piece, which is called a planchette, thank you very much. And it’s a serious deal, man. Take it seriously!”

But Steve doesn’t want to, is the thing. He knows Eddie can get overzealous about his nerdy hobbies often, practically every second of every day, but right now Steve is bored, and Eddie is right here. And he looks good.

“Seriously? Take your clothes off, Munson,” he says, smiling as he crawls over to him.

Eddie’s mood shifts from serious and a little annoyed to excited in a blink. He tugs his shirt off and throws it aside, tackling his belt buckle next.

He squirms under Steve as Steve kisses him, giggling between smoky and beer-flavored kisses and nips of teeth.

It’s not serious, whatever this thing is between them. But Steve likes it. He likes it a lot. He likes Eddie a lot.

So he’ll roll with it as long as he can.

–

“He dared you! And you just walked away!”

Steve winces at Dustin’s tone, too loud and too close as he tries to squeeze in between the shelf and the box of video tapes Steve is trying to stock.

“Dustin, move.”

He does. But he throws his hands up anyway. “I cannot believe you didn’t accept a dare. That’s like number one of dare rules. Always accept the dare.”

“I’ve never heard that rule.”

From somewhere in the store, Robin answers, “Dustin’s right, it is a rule.”

“And you just walked away,” Dustin says, shaking his head. “I can’t believe you. You’re supposed to be cool!”

Well, he didn’t exactly walk his way out of the dare. He stayed pretty horizontal.

“Hey, I’m cool.”

Dustin just gives him an unimpressed look.

Robin pops up over the shelf, arms crossed. “I will say that it’s not smart summoning spirits in a graveyard, anyway.”

“I guess.”

“Why?” Steve asks, still working.

“That’s asking for trouble,” she says. “Begging for it, really.”

He bites down the first thing that comes to mind. He almost said, Eddie certainly begged for something last night.

Doesn’t want Dustin to catch wind of his and Eddie’s…situation.

Instead, he waggles his eyebrows up at Robin until she faux gags and disappears back behind the shelf.

“But it’s a dare, Robin! You can’t expect a man just to accept his dare to be rejected!”

“Eddie was fine with it, I promise.”

“But Steve!”

“Kid, I swear to god if I have to call your mother to get you to drop this, I will.”

Dustin looks scandalized, but thankfully that’s the last Steve hears of it.

Until the Halloween party two weeks later. The night before Halloween.

It’s eleven when he finds Eddie again, having lost him in the crowd earlier to loud thrashing music.

He’s a little drunk and he smiles and sits across from his maybe-not-quite-boyfriend. Only realizes when someone goes, “Ow! Watch it, will you?” that he’s barged his way in on some board game.

Steve blinks slowly, taking in the rustic looking board with it’s dark alphabet and—

Wait.

He meets Eddie’s amused stare across the circle and sighs.

“Guess you got me on that dare after all, huh?”

“Guess I did. Missing the graveyard though.”

Eddie smiles, cheeks dimpling.

A girl hushes them and places her manicured fingers on the little wooden heart. She says hello, asks does Peter Jameson like me, and waits as the planchette moves over the letters. Spells out yes. She squeals, says goodbye, and giggles with another girl at her side.

Steve thinks she just moved the piece herself, that she answered her own question.

He huffs into his solo cup and drinks as the others take turns. Sometimes there’s two people at once, sometimes only one, sometimes more than two. He doesn’t understand the rules and doesn’t really care.

But each and every time, there is a hello and a goodbye.

Some people leave, tap out with friends. As the hour counts down to midnight, Steve doesn’t miss how so far only he and Eddie haven’t gone.

That changes when Steve speaks up, well on his way to properly drunk, buzzy and happy as he looks at Eddie across from him.

“We gonna get this thing moving or what?”

Eddie’s smile is mischievous.

“Thought you’d never ask,” he says as he places his fingers on the planchette the same moment as Steve. “Just a reminder, Stevie. Abandon any and all expectations you had before joining our little séance, focus on bringing positive energy to the encounter, and do not, under any circumstance ask how or when you will die.”

Steve snorts. “Why not? Isn’t that like the big question everybody wants to know?”

“You wanna go mad trying to stop it?”

And, well. Okay. Point taken.

“Fine, yeah, okay. Let’s get this show on the road.”

“Impatient,” Eddie remarks. But he falls quiet. It’s just him and Eddie on the board now. “Hello and greetings to any spirits who may be present with those of us gathered tonight.”

“Hey.”

“Steve, come on. Gotta put more effort into it than that.”

He sighs. “Hello ghosts.”

Eddie huffs. “That’s a little better. Why don’t you ask the first question?”

“Like what?”

“Start off simple. A gimme.”

Steve thinks for a moment, asks, “Are there any ghosts at the party?”

He’s laughing before the planchette jerks beneath his fingers. He sends a sharp look up at Eddie, who’s grinning down at the thing.

It moves to yes.

“How many?”

It moves again, spells one.

“This isn’t funny, Eddie.”

“I’m not moving it, promise.”

“Well, you think I am?”

Eddie tuts. Asks, “What’s your name?”

Steve’s stomach flips as he watches it begin spelling a name. Eddie isn’t above fucking with him, and he never minds so much as he does right now. In a room filled with people watching them, this is a bit much even for him.

Henry.

“How long have you been dead?” Eddie asks.

1979.

“Huh, not that long ago.”

“Eddie. I think your joke has gone on long enough, don’t you think?”

Eddie’s giving him his most earnest look, and Steve doesn’t get why he’s insisting on putting on this silly show at a party. He doesn’t even like parties.

“Let’s just—”

The planchette moves again, taking them both by surprise.

Eddie’s looking down at the board with wide eyes, and Steve doesn’t understand why—

Kill.

Steve takes his fingers off, laughing nervously.

Eddie stays dutifully rooted to the spot.

“I…I don’t—”

The room has gone quiet, the air heavy. Steve feels anxiety claw its way down his throat, feels the beginning of a panic attack. He wants to go home and get Eddie in his bed and hold him.

Cold licks the air, makes him shiver.

Eddie’s hair starts standing on end, as if he touched lightning. The crowd gasps, some laugh, some just leave, booking it down the stairs.

I kill.

“Steve…”

“Eddie, I want to go.”

“We have to say goodbye.”

“Then say it!”

“Goodbye!” they both shout.

The lights flicker out. Someone screams.

Steve hears Eddie breathe in the dark. He can hear his own heart thumping in his chest.

A different light is clicked on in the corner of the room.

Eddie’s hair is back to normal, his hands are splayed on his thighs.

Steve feels his airway closing up. He focuses on breathing in and out, long and deep.

“I d-don’t know why…”

Eddie’s still looking at the board, and Steve follows him to see the planchette moving wildly on its own. It shifts jerky and uneven between the numbers at the bottom. Distantly, he’s aware of someone saying that’s not good. That it’s evil. That it shouldn’t be happening.

It slides to 0 on a hard stop. Then, with what Steve swears is the chiming of a grandfather clock, it slips to 9.

It starts counting down.

Eddie jumps to his feet, grabbing Steve in the process.

Without a word between them they flee the room and hurry down the stairs. They’re on the front lawn in a matter of seconds.

Eddie’s patting him down, hands restless against his chest, his face. He palms Steve’s cheeks right there where anyone could see them, holds his eyes.

Eddie’s are glassy, worried.

He’s scared.

Another chime, and with it blooms a migraine. A man’s laughter slinks through his thoughts.

Steve turns, wondering if he’s just more drunk than he thought. But Eddie turns him right back.

“Steve? Stevie, come on, come back to me. W-what’s with the eyes, man?”

What does he mean? His eyes are just fine, he’s—

A breath and then he’s rising, lifting off the ground.

He hears the first crack, the second. Hears Eddie screaming below him. Why is he so high up? What’s happening—

Eddie screams and screams and screams.