Boltedfruit Archive

Byers wants to buy, but both he and Eddie are too busy—okay, so maybe only Byers is too busy—to drop by Eddie’s local haunts for business.

Which is how he ends up following Byers into what amounts to little more than a closet with bins of weird looking water and strings of photographs in various stages of development.

“This sure is a creepy hobby of yours.”

“I’m not in the mood, Eddie. Here.” He hands Eddie a fifty and Eddie wordlessly hands him another two ounces. Byers pockets them and gets back to dipping photos.

“How’d you even get into this?”

“What, pot?”

He huffs. “Photography.”

He’s looking at one photo in particular. It’s of Steve Harrington, poolside and shirtless. He’s hairier than Eddie thought he’d be. A melting ice cream cone dangles dangerously over his stomach, completely unaware as he dozes in the hot sun. Eddie knows one of the kids is the culprit.

“Moments before disaster.”

Eddie turns, sees Byers watching him in plain curiosity. “Must have been a real riot.”

“Sure. My mom got me a camera when I was twelve. I guess it just clicked.”

“Hmm. That was guitar for me.” He turns back to the photo.

“You might like it. It’s a good way to relax. And besides, freaks like us have a tendency to see what people like to hide.”

That has Eddie snorting. “Too true.”

–

Eddie buys a cheap little disposable a few days later, because he’s curious and he’s bored.

And seeing Steve lounging, forever held as a single moment in time, frozen dangling in Byers’ dark room has his interest piqued.

Eddie snaps a few pictures of the Hellfire crew, doesn’t like he can’t really see what he’s snapping before he does. He has Byers develop them, and he gets a recommendation for something better but not bank-breaking.

It takes a few more weeks to save up for it, but he gets a camera. A real one.

And he loves it.

–

His friends tease him only a little when he starts taking pictures of them all the time. He gets great shots of his throne in the drama room, of the club playing his newest campaign, of the die rolling in great lighting across the table.

He takes a few of Chrissy, because he can’t help himself, and she always giggles when they hang out. He has a whole set of Jason getting angrier and angrier, a progression as he chased Eddie through the halls. He snaps a few of Harrington when he picks Dustin up and drops him off, or ferries the other kids back and forth.

He snaps a few when he goes into Family Video. He shows Robin the ones Byers helped him develop of her recent band practice. She wants to hang them up. She also seems to really like the one of Vickie in her full band getup, hat perfectly center in frame.

“You’re pretty good,” Steve Harrington comments from over his shoulder, box of tapes in hand.

Robin nods. “You should take one of Steve. I’ll put it up around town so girls can tear off his number and he can finally not be such a dweeby loser.”

“I resent that,” Steve says easily before walking off. He starts restocking movies.

Eddie feels heat crawl up his neck. He coughs and shrugs, toying with the camera strap across his neck.

On impulse, he snaps one of Steve kneeling at the shelves, VHS in hand. His hair catches the light, makes him look golden.

Robin’s watching him, but he doesn’t really care.

–

He takes more photos. Kind of gets addicted to the simple action. Point, click, develop. Gets to the point Byers gives him a key to the dark room and teaches him how to use everything inside. He takes to it like he took to guitar.

After a few weeks he ends up with a handful of Steve. In some, he’s smiling, in most he’s frowning or straightfaced, and always working.

Eddie’s favorite is one where Steve is looking at Dustin, hip popped as he drops him off at school. It’s far away. Feels like a stolen moment, frozen.

It makes Eddie’s stomach flip.

And he wants more.

–

He’s got a drawer full of photos of just Steve within a month. It’s becoming a problem.

The risk is half the reward. What was the slightly odd encounter when taking a picture of him at work slowly morphed into clicking away in the dark, watching a silhouette move between lit windows. Steve stays up most nights. Eddie doesn’t understand how he can even function during the day.

He has a full set of Steve passed out drunk in a lounger by his pool. Eddie had risked getting as close as he dared. Almost broke the spell. Almost got close enough to touch, to hear Steve breath.

He has a few of Steve walking naked from deeper in the house to the kitchen.

One of those is stained at the corner. Which, okay, not his fault. But he couldn’t help it.

It’s the risk, sure. But it’s Steve. It’s Steve that drives the urge to sneak around and lurk in the shadows, snapping photos, stealing private moments. It’s Steve that makes him hard, his golden skin and delicate scattering of moles.

He has so many pictures now.

And Eddie knows he’ll take more.