Boltedfruit Archive

Limbs stiff. Frozen. Damp clothes, damp sheets. Sweat. Too much. Weight, unbearable. On his chest. Can’t breathe. Can’t. Shadow on ceiling. Crawling, slinking, prowling. Hunting. Him. Hunting him and his. Him and Eddie. Hunting Eddie. Old Monsters, dead monsters. Coming for Eddie. Going to kill. Kill him. Going to hurt him. Need to move. Can’t move. Frozen, heavy, dead weight. Can’t move, can’t speak, can’t look away, can’t—

“Shh, baby,” Eddie whispers from beside him, warm breath tickling his cheek, fingers delicate on the shell of his ear. “It’s okay. We’re okay.”

Steve blinks. It’s so hard. Accidentally squeezes a tear out.

Eddie wipes it away.

He presses a kiss to Steve’s temple, pets his hair as feeling slowly bleeds back in his limbs, his body, his lungs, his heart.

“They’re all gone now, Stevie. Nothing will ever hurt us again.”

Steve blinks again, twice to let Eddie know it’s okay to hug him now. Let him know the pressure is dissipating.

But even so. Hours later, Eddie asleep and wrapped around him on new sheets, keeping him safe and warm—

Steve can still see the shadow.

Lurking.

Waiting.

Growing.