(steddie | gen | wc: 846 | cw: none | tags: established relationship, soft boys being soft | @steddielovemonth prompt: Love is being seen and known by @acasualcrossfade)
It's a quiet Sunday afternoon in late May, the sun streaming in through the living room windows and bathing them in its warm light.
His head is in Eddie's lap and Eddie's fingers are running through his hair in that soothing way that makes Steve feel closer to sleep than awake. Everything is soft and hazy, like a dream he never wants to wake up from.
Everything could be perfect.
Everything is perfect, really.
Everything except the voice in his head. It speaks in different tongues to better disguise itself, making it harder for Steve to get rid of it.
Sometimes it sounds like his grandfather telling him to go somewhere else to eat like a goddamn pig when Steve ate his chicken legs with his hand and got grease on himself.
Other times it's his mom telling the neighbor that Steve wasn't the brightest kid, but at least he was good at sports.
Often it is his father's voice asking him why he is such a disappointment.
On his bad days, it is Nancy's voice reminding him that his love is bullshit, that he is bullshit.
Eddie helps. Most days he makes the voices go away, or at least helps him quiet them.
But not today.
Today Steve woke up to a bad day.
That's why they canceled their plans to go to the Hopper-Byers' for a family picnic and decided to spend their Sunday on the couch instead, just the two of them.
That's why Steve is biting back the questions he's been dying to ask for hours. It's too much to ask, too raw, too needy. It would be like cutting himself open and showing Eddie the emptiness inside where a real person should be.
That's why he breaks so easily when Eddie looks down at him with a soft, adoring smile on his face and kisses the tip of Steve's nose.
Just like that. Like it's nothing. Like it's everything.
Like it's love.
"Why?" It bursts out of him like hot magma from an erupting volcano, spilling out of his mouth and leaving scorched earth in its wake.
Brown eyes widen in surprise, clearly not expecting a natural disaster in their living room.
"Why what, Stevie?" He asks, his fingers stopping their soothing ministrations, and Steve begins a tally of the casualties. That's one.
"Why are you doing this?" Steve demands, unable to contain the outburst. "Treating me like... like I'm something worth treating with so much care and gentleness? You canceled the picnic today like it's no big deal, but I know how excited you've been all week about your little campaign with the kids. Just because I'm too weak to handle a bad day. Why are you not angry? Why... why...?"
Why are you still here?
He can't say it, can't ask it, too afraid of the answer.
But Eddie hears it anyway, can see through Steve and his bullshit as if he were made of glass.
"Because I love you, Steve."
Steve hates that it sounds so simple when Eddie says it like that.
"But why?"
Steve scrambles into an upright position, can't bear to have this conversation lying down. He needs to be able to run and hide, to get away so he can lick his wounds.
Some of these thoughts must show on his face, or maybe it's just the way Eddie has learned to read him like an open book. Those dark chocolate eyes Steve loves to get lost in go impossibly soft as they take him in, and Eddie's calloused hands are so, so gentle as they grip Steve's own, as if Eddie is afraid he'll break him with one wrong move.
"There is no why, Stevie. I love you because I have to. Because there is no other way to exist in a world with you in it. No why, any more than there's a reason your hair does that floppy thing no matter how hard you try to tame it. Or why a gaggle of middle schoolers imprinted on you like ducklings, so now we're co-parenting them."
Eddie brings both of Steve's hands to his mouth and kisses them reverently before placing them on his own cheeks, silently asking Steve to hold him.
And Steve does, as if Eddie is the most precious thing he's ever held in his hands.
"Some days I felt like I wasn't even real, you know? Like I was imaginary, and if people stopped believing I was real, I would just disappear. So I invented myself every day so other people wouldn't have to. It was like who I really was was secondary to what I wanted everyone else to see. But not you. You saw me. You knew me, from the beginning. I can't really explain it any better than that. You make me real. And I love you. And there is no why, only a how. I love you like you're real too."
The voices in his head do not magically disappear, but when Steve kisses Eddie, he begins to feel like a real person, too.
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I love the headcanon that Kaeya's corset is actually a back brace
In general I just love the idea that Kaeya has chronic pain and illness.
He's already got an eye patch! Yeah his eye "is fine" apparently, but it was hurt in The Fight™ with Diluc, and you know what Diluc fights with? Fire and a claymore. I'm not an eye expert but I'm pretty sure being hit in the eye with fire will cause at the very least some lasting damage. Canonically Kaeya can can still see out of it, so perhaps severe light sensitivity, maybe blurry vision to the point of vertigo.
But something about the corset being a back brace is near and dear to my heart. I love it! I've read it in so many fics and all these amazing writers come up with so many different reasons he need it, and I think it's lovely (lmfao I sound like a sadist).
Did he get it during The Fight™ when Diluc's burst slammed him into a rock, rendering him unable to move away fast enough before the next attack?
Did he get it when they were teenagers, when protecting his brother and captain from an incoming attack, making Diluc overly protective of him in the ranks for a good while, because gods know Kaeya himself had no self-preservation instinct and would do it again without hesitation?
Did he get it even earlier, when they were mere children, falling off the winery's roof because him and his brother were being silly little boys who didn't know better than to climb so high when playing pirates?
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