who did this to you. part 3
š¤š· read part 1 here | read part 2 here
pre-s4, steve whump, protective (but scared) eddie. now with robin!
The number rings in his head, echoing off the inside of his skull and sinking lower and lower until his heart strings join the symphony that leaves him shaking as the memory of Harringtonās slurred voice is drowned out by the dial tone that feels harrowingly like a flatline right now.Ā
Said Iāll go blind. Or deaf. Or justā¦ die.
Eddie doesnāt really feel like his body belongs to him anymore, or like thereās anything left inside him other than panic and fear and that stupid, stupid shaking that he canāt suppress even as he bites his knuckles. Hard.Ā
The pain helps a little not to startle too much when the dial tone stops and a female voice begins speaking to him. Still he almost drops the phone, cursing under his breath as he pulls his hair to collect himself and get his voice to work.Ā
āHā Hi, hello, Mrs Buckley? This is, uh. I. Iām. A friend of Robinās, could you, uhāāĀ
āOh, of course, dear,ā the woman says, and Eddie feels his eyes beginning to prick with how nice she sounds even through the phone.Ā
Does she know Steve, too? Would she worry if she knew? Would she curse Eddie for not taking him to the hospital right away? Would she blame him if anything happened?Ā
āIām sorry? What did you say your name was?ā she asks, repeating herself by the sound of it.Ā
He blanks, for a whole five seconds, before he spots a note stuck to the fridge saying Donāt forget to eat, Eddie :-)
āEddie,ā he croaks. āUh, Eddie Munson.ā
āAlright, Eddie Munson, Iāll see if I can grab Robin for you. You have a good day, dear, yes?āĀ
No. āThanks.āĀ
The hand clenched in his hair pulls tighter and tighter until the tears fall and he can pretend itās from pain and not fromā whatever the fuck is happening.Ā
He waits, phone pressed to his ear with a kind of desperation heās never really felt, and never wants to feel again. He doesnāt even know what to tell Robin; what to say. Itās not like they ever hang out or have anything to say to each other, so why would sheāĀ
āMunson?ā Robinās voice appears on the other end, a little too loud for Eddieās certain state, and he does drop the phone this time, scrambling to catch it and only making the situation worse as it dangles by his knees.Ā
He drops to the floor, pulling his knees to his chest and reaching for the phone again.Ā
āHi.āĀ
āWhat do you want? Howād you even get this number? I swear, if youāāĀ
āItās Blue. I mean, Steve. Harrington.āĀ
That shuts her right up, and Eddie clenches his eyes shut for a moment, hoping to keep the tremor out of his voice if only he takes a moment to breathe.Ā
The moment stretches. And Robinās voice is wary and quiet when she speaks again.Ā
āWhat about Steve.āĀ
Eddie rubs his face, leaving more dirt and grime to fill the tear tracks, and clenches his fist before his mouth.Ā
āEddie,ā Robin demands, dangerous now. Nothing left of the rambling, bubbling mess he knows her to be on the school hallways. āWhat. About. Steve.āĀ
āHeā¦ Heās hurt.āĀ
Thereās a bit of a commotion on the other end, before Robin declares, āIām coming over. You tell me everything.āĀ
āYouā I mean, heās in the hospital with my uncle, soāāĀ
āI am. Coming. Over,ā she says, enunciating every word as though she were making a threat. Maybe she is. But the certainty in her voice helps a little, anchors him the same way that Wayneās calmness did. āAnd you tell me everything.āĀ
Eddie finds himself nodding along, knowing intuitively that there is nothing that could stop her now. Knowing that he doesnāt want to stop her.Ā
āāKay.ā Itās a pathetic little sound, all choked up and tiny. She doesnāt comment on it.Ā
One second he hears her determined exhale, the next sheās hung up on him and Eddie is greeted by the flatline again. He lets out a shuddering breath and leans his head back against the wall.Ā
Breathing is hard again, but itās all he has to do now, all thatās left to do, so he focuses. Inhale. Hold. Exhale. Hold. His lungs are burning and thereās something wrong about the way he pulls in air and keeps it there, desperately latching onto it until the very last second, his exhales more of a gasping cough than calm and controlled.Ā
It takes a while. Longer than it should. But with Harringtonās blood still on his hands, with his heartbeat in his ears so loud he canāt even hear the words Wayne used to say about breathing in through the mouth or the nose orā¦ or something, heāĀ
Heās fine. Heās home. Wayneās got Blue, and Buckley is on her way, andā¦ Heās fine.Ā
People donāt just die.Ā
They donāt.Ā
Heās fine.Ā
Eventually, Eddie manages to breathe steadily, the air no longer shuddering and his hands no longer shaking. Itās stupid, really, being so worked up over someone he doesnāt even really know. Sure, everyone knows Steve fucking Harrington, and everyone sees Steve fucking Harrington ā whether they want it or not. He has a way of drawing eyes toward him even if all he does is walk the halls with his dorky smile and that stupidly charming swagger heās got going on. Always matching his shoes to his outfit.
Eddie can relate.
Always reaching out to touch the person heās talking to; clapping their back or shoulder, lightly shoving them in jest, ruffling their hair or chasing them through the halls, moving and holding himself like teenage angst canāt reach him. Like he belongs wherever he goes. Like heās so, so comfortable in his own skin. Like the clothes he wears arenāt armour but just a part of him; a means of self-expression.Ā
Again, Eddie can relate. He can relate to all of this.Ā
Itās almost like the two of them arenāt so different after all. Just going about it differently.Ā
And now heāsā¦ Bleeding. Slurring his speech. Wheezing his breath. And Eddie feels protective. Eddie feels responsible. Like he should be there, like he should get to know more about him. About Steve. About Blue.Ā
But he canāt. And he wonāt. So he gets up with a groan that expresses his frustration and the need to make a sound, to fight the oppressive silence that only encourages his thoughts to run in obsessive little circles, and he hangs up the phone thatās been dangling beside him all this time.Ā
He needs a smoke.Ā
He needs a smoke and a blunt and a drink and for this day to be over and for time to revert and to leave him out of whatever business he stumbled into by opening the door to the boathouse and, apparently, Steve Harringtonās life.Ā
But unfortunately, the universe doesnāt seem to care about what he needs, because just as he steps outside and goes to light his cig, he catches sight of a harried looking Robin Buckley, standing on the pedals of her bike as she kicks them, her hair blowing in the wind to reveal a frown between her brows. A wave of unease overcomes Eddie, an unease he canāt really place. Maybe itās the set of her jaw, or the tension in her shoulders, or maybe itās the worry and anger she exudes.Ā
It never occurred to him before that Robin Buckley might not be a person youād want to set off. And not because of her uncontrollable rambles.Ā
āMunson!ā she calls over, carelessly dropping her bike in the driveway and stalking toward him.Ā
Almost as if summoning a shield, Eddie does light the cigarette. Pretends like the smoke can protect him.Ā
She doesnāt stop at the foot of the steps, though, climbs them in two leaps and gets all up in his space with that unwavering look of determination ā so unwavering, in fact, that it almost looks like wrath. Cold. Eddie wants to shrink away from it, not at all daring to wonder what could make her look like that upon hearing that Steveās hurt.Ā
I donāt wanna die, Munson. I neverā¦ I didnāt. With the monsters or the torture.
But those are the words of a semi-conscious teenage boy beat to a pulp, they canātā Thereās no way. Eddie misheard him, or Steve was talking about some kind of inside joke, using the wrong terminology with the wrong guy. It happens. It happens when youāre out of it, really! The shit heās said when he was shot up, canned up, all strung out and high as a kiteā¦ Heād be talking of monsters, too, and mean some benign shit.Ā
But the way Harrington looked, none of that was benign. The bruising all over his face, the blood still dripping from the wound by his temple or his nose, the way he held himself, breath rattling in his lungs, orāĀ
āHey!ā Buckley demands his attention, giving him a light shove; just enough to catch his attention, really, and just what he needed to snap out of it. Still the smoke hits his lungs wrong and he coughs up a lung, further cementing his role of the pathetic little guy today.Ā
āHey,ā he says lamely, his voice still croaking as he crushes the half-smoked cigarette under his boot. āSorry.ā He doesnāt know for what. But it feels appropriate.Ā
She shakes her head, rolling her eyes at him as she crosses her arms in front of her chest.Ā
āTell me,ā she says at last, and even though there is a tremor in her voice, she sounds nothing short of demanding. āI want the whole story, and I want it now.āĀ
And so he does. He tells her everything, bidding her inside because he needs the relative safety of the trailer even though the air in here is stuffy and still faintly smells blue. He pours them both some coffee and some tea, because asking what she wants doesnāt feel right in the middle of telling her how he found her supposed best friend beat to shit in the boathouse he went to to forget about the world for a while.Ā
She stills as she listens to him, staring ahead into the middle distance somewhere beneath the floor and the walls, her hands wrapped around the steaming mug of coffee. Eddie stumbles over his words a lot, unsettled by her stillness, her lack of reaction. She doesnāt even react to his fuck-ups. People usually do.
He wants to ask. Where are you right now? What have you seen? Whatās on your mind? What the fuck is happening?
But he doesnāt ask, instead he tells her more about Steve. About how he seemed to forget where he was. About the pain he was in. About the smiles nonetheless. The way he reassured Eddie.Ā
That one finally gets a choked little huff from her, somewhere between a sob and a laugh.Ā
āYeah, that sounds like him alright. Heās such a dingus.āĀ
There is so much affection in her voice as she says it that Eddie canāt help but smile into his mug.Ā
āDingus?ā he asks, hoping for some lightness, hoping to keep it.Ā
But the light fades, and her eyes get distant again. Eddie wants to kick himself.Ā
āJust a stupid little nickname. An insult, really.ā
āOh.ā He doesnāt know what to do with that. If he should ask more or if he should say that he has a feeling Steve might appreciate stupid little nicknames. Especially if theyāre unique. Especially if theyāre for him. But what right does he have to say that now? What knowledge does he have about Steve Harrington that Robin doesnāt?Ā
So he bites his tongue and drinks his coffee, cursing the silence that falls over them as Robin mirrors him, albeit slow and stilted, like she doesnāt know what to do either. Or where to put her limbs.Ā
āWayneās got him now. I took him here, after the boathouse, because I didnāt know what to do. He said he didnāt want the hospital, said thereāsā¦ā He trails off.Ā
Robin looks at him, her eyes wary but alert. āSaid thereās what?āĀ
Itās stupid. Donāt say it.Ā
āEddie?āĀ
With a sigh, he puts his mug on the counter and stuffs his hands into his pockets. āHe said thereās monsters. In the hospital, I mean. He said that.ā
Instead of scoffing or at least frowning, Robin clenches her jaw and nods imperceptibly, her eyes going distant again. Eddie blinks, the urge to just fucking ask overcoming him again, but with every passing second he realises that he doesnāt actually want to ask. He doesnāt want to know, let alone find out.Ā
He justā¦ He just wants to go to bed. Forget any of this ever happened. But he canāt do that, so he continues.Ā
āBrought him here and Wayne took one look at him and convinced him he needed a doctor. And, Jesus H Christ, he was right. Iāve neverā¦ I mean, those things donāt happen,ā he urges, balling his hands into fists even in the confined space of his pockets. āRight? I meanā¦ Shit, man.ā He bumps his shoe into the kitchen counter; gently, so as not to startle Buckley out of her fugue like state.Ā
āYouād be surprised,ā she rasps, staring into the middle distance again and slowly sinking to the floor. There is a tremor in her shoulders now, barely noticeable, but Eddie knows where to look. Without really thinking about it, he grabs two of his hoodies heād haphazardly thrown over the kitchen chairs this morning while deciding on his outfit and realising that it was altogether too warm for long sleeves today. But now, right here in this kitchen, the air tinged with blue, theyāre both freezing.Ā
Because fear and worry will take all the warmth right from inside of you and leave you freezing even on the hottest day of the year.Ā
She barely looks at him when he holds out his all-black Iron Maiden hoodie to her, freshly washed and all that, but she takes it nonetheless, immediately pulling it on. Itās way too large on her, her hands not showing through the sleeves, her balled fists safe and warm inside the fabric. It would make him smile if only it didnāt highlight her stillness, her faraway stare, and the years he has on her. Sheās, what, two years younger than him? Three?Ā
It seems surreal. Everything, everything does.Ā
Robin Buckley in his home, sitting on his kitchen floor, swallowed by a hoodie that is a size too large even for him, but it was the last one they had in the store and he doesnāt mind oversized clothes, can just cut them shorter when the need arises or layer them or declare them comfort sweaters for when he wants to just have his hands not slip through the sleeves on some days. And now Robin is wearing his comfort hoodie because her best friend was bleeding in his car earlier and then on his couch and now in his uncleās car, and they never even talk, but he knows that Robinās favourite colour is blue, but not morning hour blue because that makes her sad; only deep, dark blues.Ā
Her favourite colour. Her favourite person.Ā
Itās so fucking surreal.Ā
He drops down beside her, leaving enough space between them so neither of them feels caged, and mirrors her position: knees to his chest, chin on his forearms. Staring ahead.Ā
And silence reigns.Ā
āYour uncle,ā she says at last, finally breaking the silence thatās been grating on Eddieās nerves and looking at him, really looking as she rests her cheek on her forearms crossed over her knees. āTell me about him.āĀ
There is a gentleness to her voice now despite how hoarse it is. Maybe sheās just tired, too. And scared. At least the shivering has stopped.Ā
Still Eddie frowns, confused as to why she should be breaking the silence to ask about Wayne when everything today has been about Harrington. About Steve. About deep and dark blues.Ā
āUncle Wayne?ā he asks. āWhy?ā
āBecause,ā she begins, and sighs deeply, works to get the air back in her lungs. Eddie wants to reach out, but instead he just clenches his fingers a little deeper into the fabric of his hoodie. āMy best friend is hurt very badly and the only person with him is your uncle, and I need to know that heās in good hands. Or I swear to whatever god you may or may not believe in, and granted, itās probably the latter, but still I swear Iāll give into my arsonist tendencies and burn down this city, starting with your trailer if you donāt tell me that your uncle is a good man who will do anything in his power to make sure that boy gets the help and care he needs. And deserves.āĀ
Her jaw is set and her bottom lip trembles, but it doesnāt take away from the absolute sincerity in her threat.Ā
āSo, please,ā she continues, her voice breaking just a little bit. āTell me. Tell me about your uncle.āĀ
Tell me about your favourite person.Ā
Eddie swallows, and mirrors her position once more, so she can see his eyes and know heās sincere. Because heās learned something about eyes today, about how much in the world can change if only you have a pair of eyes to look into.Ā
And he nods, looking for somewhere to start. āHeās the best man I know. Heās the best man youāll ever meet.ā
She clings to his eyes. Searches them for the truth, beseeching them not to lie. He lets her.Ā
āTook me in when I was ten, because my dadās a fuck-up and my momās a goner. Took me in again when I was twelve after I ran away. Makes me breakfast and I pretends the dinner I make him is more than edible.ā He smiles a little, because how could he not? āHeās my uncle, but still heās the best parent anyone could wish for. Writes those little notes that he sticks to the fridge, yāknow, the one with the smiley face? Tells me to eat, because I forget sometimes. I tell him to drink water, because he forgets. First few years, heād read to me. And the manās a shit reader, has some kind of disability I think, and at some point I learned that he wasnāt reading at all. He was telling me stories all the time, conning me into thinking that the books were magic, and that every time Iād try to read the book for myself, the story would change.āĀ
Thereās a lump in his throat now, and his eyes sting again. But Robin doesnāt seem to fare any better than him if her wavering smile is any indication.Ā
āThereās no one,ā Eddie continues, āwho will make you believe in magic quite like uncle Wayne. Or in good things. And dāyou wanna know what he told Blue when he said he was scared of going to the hospital?āĀ
Sniffling, Robin shakes her head.Ā
āHe said, Okay. Then we do it scared. And all of that after he justā¦ with that patience he has, told him everything that was gonna happen. And that heād be there with him through it all. That he knew the doc and wouldnāt let anyone else near him, and that thereās no need to be scared at all.āĀ
He sighs, breathes, stills. Swallows, before looking back at Robin.Ā
āSo, if thereās one person whoāll make sure that boy gets the help and care he needs and deservesā¦āĀ
āItās uncle Wayne,ā Robin finishes his sentence, her voice still hoarse, but Eddie likes to think itās for a different reason now.Ā
āItās uncle Wayne,ā Eddie says, nodding along as he does.Ā
There is something like understanding in Robinās eyes now, and Eddie hopes itās enough. Enough to calm the spiking of her nerves, enough to settle the coil of freezing nausea that must reside in the pit of her stomach, enough to let the next breath she takes feel a little more like itās supposed to be there.Ā
He wants to say something more, wants to reach out and reassure her that everything will be okay, but he canāt know that. He doesnāt feel like itās entirely true, let alone appropriate right now.Ā
Thereās something in Robinās eyes, in the way she holds herself, like sheās waiting for the other shoe to drop. Like she accepts his words at face value but doesnāt really believe them. Like sheāll only rest when sheās got her best friend back in her arms and hears the story ā the whole story ā from him.Ā
And Eddie doesnāt fault her, because the thing is, he doesnāt know what happened. Steve said that Hagan came at him, but thatās really all he got out of him before he started talking about death and shit, and Eddie really didnāt want to ask any more questions then.Ā
So they sit there for a while, the silence oppressive and unwelcome, clumsy and awkward; Robinās mouth opening and closing a lot, like she wants to ask questions but doesnāt dare to ask them ā and Eddie doesnāt know if heās glad about it or not. Doesnāt know if he wants to hear the kind of questions asked with that kind of stare.Ā
It is only after a long while, when Robinās shoulders start shaking again and she buries deeper into the hoodie and her own spiralling thoughts, that Eddie breaks the silence again, replaying in his head the last moment between him and Steve.Ā
āHeās not gonna break,ā he tells her, aiming for gentle and reassuring.Ā
What he doesnāt expect is the minute flinch, the jolt shooting through her body and the pained expression it leaves her with. What he doesnāt expect is what she says next.Ā
āYou know,ā she begins, her voice as far away as her eyes, and itās like she doesnāt even know sheās speaking. āSometimes I wish he would.āĀ
What?
Eddie blinks, swallowing hard.
āJust for, just for a break. Just so he can rest. Let the rest take over for a while.āĀ
Thatā¦ He doesnātā What the hell does that even mean?Ā
āLike maybe then the world wouldā¦ snap back.ā She snaps her fingers, just once. This time itās Eddie who flinches. āAnd everything bad would disappear. But it wonāt. And he wonāt.ā She swallows. Then quietly, almost inaudible, āHe wonāt break.āĀ
And the way she says itā¦ It was reassuring before. And now it feels like a burden. A curse.Ā
Who the fuck are you, Steve Harrington? And you, Robin Buckley.Ā
Eddie shudders, knowing he doesnāt want the answer to that anymore. He doesnāt want the questions either. So he buries his face in his hands, closes his eyes, and breathes. The adrenaline has worn off by now, the repeated panicking that added fuse to the fire has ceased now, leaving him worn out and strung out, tired and exhausted. He pulls up the hood, burrowing into the warmth.Ā
And then he stills. His usually twitching, fumbling, fiddling body falling entirely still beside Buckley.Ā
Itās like time stops for a while there, even though Eddie knows that itās dragging ever on and on. Heās inclined to let it, though. Heās too tired, too exhausted to really care about what time may or may not be doing.Ā
āWhyād you call me?āĀ
It takes a while for Eddie to realise that Robinās spoken again, asked him a question out loud, the cadence of it different to the endless circles of questions Eddieās got stuck in his head since the early afternoon tinged in blue against crimson.Ā
He lifts his head, tucking his hands underneath his chin, and looks over at Buckley. Her hair is dishevelled now, her mascara smudged and crusty. Her lipstick is almost all gone, with the way he sees her biting and chewing on her lips.Ā
āIā¦ It seemed like the right thing to do, yāknow? He kept repeating your number. In the car, it was likeā¦ Sounds dramatic, but it was like his lifeline, almost. Repeated it so often it kinda got stuck.ā He shrugs. āSeemed important, too.ā
Robin frowns; a careful little thing. āHowād you know it was me?ā
āWell, he just talked about you. Yāknow. Tell me about your favourite person, I told him, because thatās the thing you gotta do to keep people, like, talking to you. Not shit about what day it is, or what. Just, yāknow. Let them talk about things they like. Things theyāll wanna tell you about. āNā he talked about you.āĀ
Sheās quiet for a while, letting his words sink in. And Eddie wonders if she knew. That sheās his favourite person. If he ever told her. If maybe he took that from him now. Itās a stupid thing to worry about, really; the boy was bloodied and bruised on his couch just an hour ago, there are worse things at hand for Eddie to worry about. But now he wonders if he just spilled some sort of secret. Some sort of love confession.Ā
āDid you, I meanā¦ Are you guys, like, dating? Did I just steal his moment?āĀ
Robin huffs, but itās more like a smile that needs a little more space in the room, a little more air to really bloom. Itās fond. She shakes her head, her eyes far away again, but closer somehow.Ā
āNah,ā she says, and the smile is in her voice, too. Eddie kind of likes her voice like that. āWeāre platonic. Which is something Iād never thought Iād say. Not about Steve Harrington, yāknow?āĀ
And the way she drags out his nameā¦ Eddie can relate. Like it means something, but like what it means is nowhere close to reality. Nowhere close to what it really means. Nowhere close to Blue.Ā
Robin sighs, the sound more gentle than it should be, and leans her head against the cabinet behind her. āWe worked together over summer break. Scoops Ahoy.ā Her voice does a funny thing, and her eyes glaze over as she pauses. Eddie waits, his lips tipped up into a little smile, too; to match hers.Ā
āWhat, the ice cream parlour?āĀ
Robin hums, her smile widening at what Eddie guesses must be memories of chaos and ridiculousness. āI wanted to hate him,ā she continues. āBut try as I might, he wouldnāt let me. Or, he did. He did let me. Just, it turns out, thereās no use hating Steve Harrington, not when heās soā¦ So endlessly genuine. Thereās nothing to hate, yāknow? And then heā¦āĀ
She stops, her mouth clicking shut as her eyes tear up a little. The Starcourt fire. Eddie remembers the news, remembers the self-satisfied smirk when heād heard about it, remembers sticking it to the Man and to capitalism and to the idea of malls over supporting your friendly neighbourhood businesses.Ā
Guilt and shame overcome him as he realises that they must have been in there when it happened.Ā
āHe saved your life?āĀ
Robinās eyes snap toward him, wide and caught, and Eddie raises his hands in placation.Ā
āIn the fire? Were you there?āĀ
āYāyeah.ā She swallows hard, avoiding his eyes. āThe fire. He saved me. Yeah.āĀ
Eddie nods, deciding to drop that topic right there; to lay it on the ground as gently as he can and cover it with bright red colours so he never steps on it ever again.Ā
āHe must be your favourite person, too, then, hm?ā he steers the conversation back away into safer waters.Ā
āHe is,ā she says, sure and genuine and true. āItās just. I donāt think Iāve ever been anyoneās favourite. He has a lot of people who care about him, you know? A lot of people he cares about. Even more numbers memorised in that stupidly smart head of his.ā She huffs again, burrowing deeper into Eddieās hoodie, pulling the sleeves over her hands some more. āItās stupid, to be so hung up on this. Is it stupid?āĀ
āI donāt think it is,ā Eddie says, scooting a little closer to Robin. āLike, I donāt even know that boy, right? But even I know that heās got some ways to shift your focus or something. Give you a silver lining, or something to take the pain away even when heās the one whoā¦ I donāt know, thatās probably stupid, too.āĀ
āNah,ā Robin says, scooting closer to him, too, until their sides are pressed together and she can lay her head on his shoulder. āItās not stupid. Youāre right; thatās Steve for you. āS just who he is.āĀ
It is, isnāt it?Ā
Youāre so blue, Stevie.Ā
Sheāll say something corny when, when you ask her, jusā to fuck with you. Sunset gold or rose, jusā to mess withā¦ But is blue.
Blue. āS nice.Ā
Yeah. Yeah, he is.Ā
Eddie lets his thoughts roam the endless possibilities and realities that is Steve Harrington, the depths he hides ā or wonāt hide, maybe, if you know how to ask. Where to look.Ā
Maybe heāll find out, one of these days. Not about the terrible things that leave him scared of the hospital, not about the horrible things that have him speaking of death and dying like heās accepted them as a possibility a long time ago.Ā
He swallows hard and shakes off these thoughts, because things like that just. They donāt happen. They donāt happen to blue-smiled boys who trust you to be kind even when theyāre beaten straight to hell. And they sure as hell donāt happen when uncle Wayneās around.Ā
Nothing bad has ever happened when uncle Wayne was around.Ā
And he wants to tell Robin, wants to make that promise. But part of him canāt bear the thought of being wrong. So he keeps his mouth shut and just sits with her, their heads as heavy as their hearts as they wait.Ā
The sun is long gone when the phone above him rings again, spooking and startling them out of their timeless existence.Ā
āYeah?ā he answers, his heart hammering in his chest. āWayne?āĀ
āHey, Ed,ā Wayneās voice comes through the phone like a melody. Calm and steady. Robin is scooting closer, and Eddie shifts the phone to accommodate her so they can both listen. Somehow, they ended up holding hands ā and holding on hard. āWeāre coming home now.āĀ
š¤š· tagging:
@theshippirate22 @mentallyundone @ledleaf @imfinereallyy @itsall-taken @simply-shin @romanticdestruction @temptingfatetakingnames @stevesbipanic @steddie-island @estrellami-1 @jackiemonroe5512 @emofratboy @writing-kiki @steviesummer @devondespresso @swimmingbirdrunningrock @dodger-chan @tellatoast @inkjette @weirdandabsurd42 @annabanannabeth @deany-baby @mc-i-r @mugloversonly @viridianphtalo @nightmareglitter @jamieweasley13 @copingmechanizm @marklee-blackmore @sirsnacksalot @justrandomfandomstmĀ @hairdryerducks @silenzioperso @newtstabber @fantrash @zaddipax @cometsandstardust @rowanshadow26 @limpingpenguin @finntheehumaneater @extra-transitional
(sorry if i missed anyone! lmk if you don't wanna be tagged for part 4 š«¶)
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