part two of angsty soulmate things, a continuation of this
There's an after.
It's not that Eddie isn't grateful that there is one. He's like most people only in the sense that he would rather be alive than dead. And while being eaten by demonic bats is a very metal way to go, it's slow, and it hurt like hell.
Not worse than cutting the string, but it still hurt.
Eddie isn't ungrateful for the after. He's just confused as to how he got here in the first place, and he's scared because there isn't supposed to be one.
But he doesn't want to think about that. That train of thought makes him nauseous, and he's barely been able to eat anything as it is.
Hospital lights, he thinks instead, are a constant. They're the same everywhere, that bright, sterile white that makes people look sicker in a place that's supposed to make them healthy. In the chair next to his bed, for example, Steve looks like he should be admitted himself.
His skin is paler than Eddie's ever seen it, the bags under his eyes could more aptly be called suitcases, and, most concerningly, his hair is flat.
Steve "the Hair" Harrington's hair looks lifeless. Eddie really screwed this up, didn't he?
He wonders if there's adverse effects to cutting the string. Other than the pain, of course. Long-term stuff is probably a better way to put it.
He tries to remember back when Mama did it, but that was a while ago. Maybe seven years now? His recollection's a bit fuzzy, but he remembers her being almost sick, even after the pain stopped.
Then again, Mama was always sick, one way or another. So even if she's the only example he has, she's probably not the best one.
Steve stares at Eddie with wide, red-rimmed eyes. He really does look like hell.
Eddie opens his mouth to say something, to crack a joke, to do anything to make Steve look a little better, but Steve beats him to the punch.
"What happened?" he croaks.
"I died," Eddie says. It's not a lie. Wayne told him, when he first woke up, that it took three rounds of CPR to get his heart started again.
"Bullshit," Steve says.
"It's not bullshit."
"I know your heart stopped," Steve says. "But you didn't die."
He holds up his hand, and Eddie sees, stark black on his sickly pale skin, the remnants of a string curled around his finger. Black like a brand, like a tattoo, whatever.
It's there, and everyone knows black means death. Permanent death.
(Or, if they're a nutcase or a gullible middle schooler, a dagger. But normal people don't believe in those, so normal people don't ever consider that a possibility.
Hell, even Eddie wouldn't have if he didn't do it himself.)
"What. Happened."
If Eddie weren't in a hospital bed, he'd come up with a better lie. He'd say something about the bats, or the Upside Down, or, hell, he'd blame it on Vecna.
Nancy came in and told him the bastard's dead, so. It's not like he'd be able to counter it.
But Eddie is exhausted, mentally and physically. It's finally setting in, after the first few minutes of being awake, how tired he is, and how much pain he's in.
So, instead of lying, Eddie just says, "I'm sorry."
Steve frowns, confused. "What do you mean you're sorry? Eddie, I just want to know what happened. I'm scared out of my mind because this shouldn't be happening. You're alive. We should still have a string."
Eddie sees, clear as day, how he can use this as an out. He could lie so easily, could blame it on some occurrence within that parallel world. Steve would nod and accept it, not because he's stupid, but because literally anything, so long as it's awful, is possible there.
But Eddie thinks beyond the now very often, though most people are surprised by that. He thinks about how Steve will want to be with him; every time Eddie thought about his soulmate, the string appeared, so Steve was constantly thinking about him. He thinks about them five, ten, twenty years down the line. He thinks about forgetting the lie, about being inconsistent, about Steve pushing and pushing like he seems to do sometimes until Eddie breaks and tells the truth.
No. Finding out then would be so much worse.
Eddie has an out, but he's choosing not to run. Last time, that was a terrible decision, but no one, except for Wayne, really, has ever said that Eddie was smart.
So, he tells the truth.
"I cut it," he says.
Steve continues to stare at him. "What?"
"I cut the string," Eddie says. "With a dagger."
"Those don't exist."
"They do. One showed up for me. I used it to cut the string because I thought I was going to die, and I didn't want you to feel it," Eddie says.
"You're lying," Steve says, voice wavering, face crumpling.
"If I were lying, I'd do it better," Eddie snaps. He's exhausted and doesn't want to fight but he knows that's what's going to happen.
Steve thought about his soulmate constantly. Eddie cut the string.
"Do you know what it felt like?" Steve says.
"Yeah," Eddie says. "It was the worst pain I've ever felt."
Worse than the bats that laid him up in here, worse than the surgeries and the pull of stitches every time he tries to move. Worse worse worse.
"Me too," Steve says, and oh, he's gone quiet. Cold. The tone seeps into Eddie's bones, and he really, really doesn't like where this is going.
"You made me feel the worst pain of my life when we were going against Vecna," Steve says. "It hurt so bad that Robin was ready to drag me out and leave Nancy by herself. You put us all in danger."
"I'm sorry," Eddie says, but he can barely get those three syllables out before Steve keeps going.
"You put us in danger, you put the rest of the Party in danger, and for what?"
"I was trying to protect you."
"It still fucking hurt!" Steve shouts. "It still hurt. You did nothing. You accomplished nothing."
Eddie will not cry here. He won't.
"Steve-"
"Did you know that I thought about you every day?" Steve whispers.
"Yes," Eddie says, because fuck it, why not be honest? He has nothing left to lose.
"Do you know how excited I got when I saw the string? When you thought of me, too?"
"No," Eddie says because he stayed away from Steve Harrington all throughout high school on account of the principles and stereotypes he's realizing weren't true at all.
"I didn't think you would," Steve says. "Because you didn't fucking think, even for a second, about anything besides what? Your own guilt?"
Eddie won't cry. He won't let Steve have the satisfaction of seeing him do it.
It's getting harder, though.
"I thought of you," Eddie says instead.
"First time?" Steve asks mockingly, and before Eddie can say anything to that, he's out the door.
Then, and only then, does Eddie let himself cry.
It hurts.
292 notes
·
View notes