[tw: mentions of self harm]
Steve breathed out sharply while Eddie stayed frozen and isolated, arms hung in front of his body.
Then he felt gentle fingers slide around his hands and squeeze them.
"Please tell me," Steve whispered, "tell me why, if you can. And let me help, Eddie."
Eddie opened his eyes and found him staring at him.
"Please Eddie."
"You don't have to do this, Steve. I can let you go easy and we can pretend this never happened."
Steve blinked.
"As if I would ever do that."
"You hate me," Eddie pleaded.
"Like hell I do!" Steve's eyes blazed. "When did I say that?"
"It's the way you act around me."
Eddie bit the corner of his lip and looked past Steve' shoulder, but he didn't step down.
"Okay, yes." Steve nodded. "Yes, I'm a complete asshole to you, but I am not going to stand to the side here."
Eddie couldn't meet his eyes.
"I'm going to fix this," Steve whispered. "Let me fix this."
Eddie looked down at his arms and then back up at Steve.
"Fine," he mumbled and stepped to the side.
"Thank you." Steve stepped into the trailer. "Um, do you having any bandages or rubbing alcohol? Preferably both."
He turned and looked back at Eddie, who was leaning with his back against the closed front door.
"You look a little lost, Munson," Steve said softly, walking back over to him and putting his hands on either side of his shoulders.
"More like embarrassed." Eddie smiled sideways.
He was thinking about the stuff scattered all over the ground, the broken beer bottles in between the couch cushions, the mystery powder on the kitchen floor.
"Don't give a fuck if your place is messy."
Steve looked him straight in the eyes as he spoke and Eddie began to see why Dustin and his friends used to look up to him. He had a way of being comforting and insistent at the same time, which made Eddie want to listen to him.
"I was high and drunk and depressed as shit," He found himself saying instead.
It was like he was trying to excuse himself, to write off what had happened as a one-time thing, and in a way, he was. But Steve could see right through him, it seemed, because he only smiled and said, "tell me after."
Eddie led him into the bathroom, where Steve promptly made him sit in the bathtub while he dug around for the bandages and cleaning supplies.
"I could have gotten them," Eddie protested weakly, but he was glad to rest, even against the stone-cold acrylic of the tub.
Meanwhile, Steve found the ziploc bag and moved to sit on the other side of the bath's wall.
"Take off your shirt, please." He began to calmly unravel a roll of bandages after he spoke and was completely oblivious to the horrified expression on Eddie's face.
There was a moment of complete silence.
"Eddie?" Steve looked over at him.
"Well, I mean, I think it's just my arms," he spluttered nervously. "There'd be really no reason to take off my shirt."
Steve sighed.
"Eddie, just take it off, please. This might be a little messy to clean up and I don't want to get any more blood on your clothing."
Eddie couldn't possibly argue with that without causing Steve to ask questions, so he faced the wall and slipped his club tee shirt over his head.
"There." He threw the shirt over his shoulder, but he didn't move to turn around.
Then he felt Steve's hand hook around his elbow and pull it lightly towards him.
"This is going to sting," he warned.
Eddie nodded, still refusing to face him.
Then he felt Steve dab a cloth across the cuts in his arm and a tickling sensation built up in his skin, starting cool, but gradually becoming fierce.
He inhaled sharply and breathed out in a long hiss through clenched teeth, finally turning to face Harrington.
"Fuck!"
"Sorry," Steve winced.
"Fucking hurts," he moaned and tipped his head against the wall.
"Almost done," Steve had his tongue stuck out in concentration.
Finally, he lifted the cloth from Eddie's arm and chucked it into the waste basket with a flourish.
"Done!"
"Oh, thank god!" Eddie sighed.
He looked at his arm and saw that the rivulets of blood were gone and only the cuts were left, like cross-hatching on his skin.
Steve was preparing another cloth with rubbing alcohol and Eddie held his other arm out, squeezing his eyes shut in preparation.
"Well, you know the drill," Harrington murmured and then fire burned across Eddie's skin as the soaked fabric traced across it.
"Wake me when it's over," Eddie said, his thoughts blurring.
And then he fainted.