Boltedfruit Archive

A month after El closes the gate, he opens the door and sees Dustin and Mike standing in front of Eddie Munson.

Who is dead. Who has been dead for over a month.

But here he is, standing upright with life in his eyes, his hands in his pockets.

Dustin’s the first to break the weird silence stretching between the four of them.

“So, funny story.”

“Get inside. Now.”

He hauls Dustin in by his shirt sleeve, Mike urging Eddie in as he brings up the rear.

Steve drags them to his couch, makes them sit three in a row, Eddie looking strangely small sandwiched in the middle.

“Explain.”

“It was Dustin’s idea!”

“Screw you, Mike! You helped!”

“That’s up for debate.”

“Guys! Explain, immediately. How is he–sorry, how are you alive, man? It’s been weeks. Dustin saw you die.”

Dustin shushes him dramatically.

Eddie just blinks up at him.

Steve stares at him, wondering where the loud, boisterous personality went. He waves a hand in front of Eddie’s face and he flinches.

Steve frowns.

“We used one of the guidebooks. There’s this necromancy spell in it, and we just thought, you know, what the hell? Right? What could it hurt to try?”

“He’s leaving out the part where we went to the lake to do it. Where the gate was.”

“And it uh. Worked.”

“Ta da.”

Steve feels likely to snap his own neck. His head is already thumping with a migraine.

“We need to call Hopper and Joyce.”

“No!” they both shout at once. Eddie shrinks down into the cushions. “Our moms might literally kill us for this, man. He needs somewhere to just stay and law low for a while, okay?”

It’s a while spent arguing back and forth about what to do, but what seals Steve’s decision is how Eddie rubs absently at his forehead, grimace firmly in place.

“Fine, fine. I’ll take care of it.”

–

Eddie doesn’t speak anymore, is the thing. It’s unnerving the first few days, Eddie somehow able to sneak up on him and just suddenly be there when he turns around. It makes him drop things more than once. Eddie always wordlessly picks them up.

He hovers. Sits close on the couch, at the dining table. Wanders in from the guest room at night to sleep on the floor by Steve’s bed. Only realized when he tripped over Eddie’s sleeping form in the middle of the night on the way to the bathroom.

He waits like a dog at the door when he gets from from work. He seems sad when Steve leaves in the morning, or when he has to run errands.

Steve gets tired of the pathetic act of it all and finally takes pity on the guy. Against his better judgment and own self preservation, he pats the empty space in bed one night and Eddie settles into the spot with a sigh.

He’s asleep in moments.

Steve knows it’s got something to do with El, the gates, Creel. Knows it’s probably not something to trust, or to expect to last, Eddie being back, being alive. But it doesn’t stop him from feeling comforted as he falls asleep.

He doesn’t feel so alone.

–

He wakes, feeling eyes on him. Glances around to find Eddie sitting up, face angled his way but his eyes are closed.

Steve tugs on his sleeve. His elbow. Eddie’s freezing to the touch. He gasps at the shock of it, and only then do Eddie’s eyes flutter open. He looks caught.

He hums, the first sound of his voice Steve’s heard since he’s been here. And he realizes all at once how much he’s missed it.

Eddie lays back down, lets Steve pull the comforter over his shoulders. Lets Eddie move closer, nose at his neck, press his ear to Steve’s chest.

He tentatively wraps an arm around Eddie’s back. He settles, hand brushing Steve’s stomach. The weight of it is light on him, but grounding all the same.

Steve sleeps peacefully.

–

Days later, it happens again. They go about their usual quiet daily routine. They lay down for bed, Eddie in his arms.

He wakes up with Eddie staring at him, but it’s not what Steve expects. His eyes are closed. But there’s a red warmth from behind his forehead. It feels possessive, entrancing. Steve can’t look away.

Eddie flinches in sleep, and suddenly the red splits, a glow unearthed from behind a torn seam of skin. A single tear of blood drips down between his eyes as a red iris peers through the slit. It locks Steve in a dead stare, engulfing him. Choking him down. Making him feel lighter, lighter, lightheaded, nothing—

He comes to with Eddie throwing himself out of the bed. He’s got a hand covering his forehead, blood smeared across his nose and cheek. He’s heaving, staring at Steve like a frightened animal.

“Wait—”

“Different,” Eddie whispers. It’s hoarse, barely more than a scrape from disuse. “Omen.”

And he flees the room. Steve hears a door down the hallway slam shut.

He doesn’t understand.

But he’ll help Eddie however he can.