Boys Don't Cry - Steddie

Chapter 7

"Oh this is more than fancy enough for me." He took his glass when Steve handed it to him. Steve held his own up for cheers with Eddie when he was done mixing it.

"Sex on the Beach," Steve took a sip.

"Sex on the Beach," Eddie nodded and did the same. It was stong. Stronger than he was expecting, anyway, but it wasn't bad.

The cocktails were gone by the end of the movie and they both headed back to the kitchen as if some silent agreement had been formed between them that neither wanted to be the slightest bit sober tonight.

"What now? Shots? Different drink? Refill?"

Eddie just shrugged and sat down as he watched Steve, "You pick. Whatever you have, I'll take."

He watched Steve open another cupboard and take out two shot glasses. "Whiskey?"

"Why not?" Eddie watched Steve pour two shots and got up to rejoin him at the counter. Neither of them counted. They just looked at each other before simultaneously downing them. Eddie screwed his eyes shut as the burn hit him. He put his glass back down and stuck his tongue out, "Oh my god that was awful-"

Steve was quickly screwing the cap back on the bottle, so Eddie assumed he shared the sentiment. The next shot was rum, and it was a lot sweeter, thank god. He couldn't be sure when it happened or how much they actually drank, but by 11:00 they were laying on the floor in the living room, talking just for the sake of filling the air with words. There always seemed to be something with them and laying on the ground when they had been drinking. It was kind of stupid that Eddie liked it, but he did. It felt special in some weird way.

"My dream the other day..." he could see Steve turn to look at him out of the corner of his eye. He didn't look back. He kept his eyes trained on the ceiling. "Well, they're all pretty much the same. Sometimes I'm just reliving it. Sometimes it's some weird combination of things. I can never move. When we're in the... the upside down. The bats are there again and I try to run and my legs just don't work."

Steve seemed like he was going to say something, but Eddie pressed on, "I keep dreaming about Chrissy, too. She's always... she always looks..." he swallowed thickly as he tried to figure out how to phrase it delicately. "She's always all... broken. And she's crying, Steve. She's always crying, I feel like I hear her all the time. She says that I left her and she needed help, and she's right. I shouldn't have left her. She was alone and she was probably so scared and I don't really understand why I'm laying here right now and she's dead. I think maybe I should have-"

"Don't say that, man.." Steve's voice was quiet and gentle, but he seemed intent on stopping Eddie from finishing his sentence. "You were scared too. You didn't know what was going on. How could you have known? As much as shitty as it is to hear, nothing you could have done would have saved her, Eddie. We got lucky with Max. No one would have known what to do, you can't keep beating yourself up over it."

Eddie shook his head, "I could have stayed."

"You could have, but that wouldn't have done anything." There was a moment of silence before Steve spoke again. "The bats might go away when you're healed up a little more."

"You think?" Eddie looked over at him now.

He nodded, "Yeah. I mean... it's kind of at the front of your mind right now, right? Because all you do all day is focus on your injuries and shit, so maybe once you're not as focused on them, they'll go away. Or get better at least."

"Yeah, that makes sense I guess," Eddie returned his gaze to the ceiling. He didn't want to look at him. He didn't want to say anything he would regret, and he definitely didn't trust himself not to.