Steddie Freak

Will gets to play DnD, but he has some fears about it.

This is also a shout out to all wonderful DMs in the world!

Steve doing a whole Bit™️ while cleaning his pool in nothing but a wet, cropped shirt and shorts one summer after the world doesn't end.

He's got music playing from his open bedroom window. He's got a pool net in one hand, alternating using it as both a mic and a guitar.

He's also got an audience of the entire hellfire club in his sun room but he has no idea they're there because Eddie has sworn them to absolute silence so he can Enjoy This™️ an if they speak, they're doomed.

Yes. Gareth was too much of a babey to really appreciate Steve Harrington back in his highschool days, he got like. maybe one year of Steve content and then poof, him and his magnificent hair and gloriously golden-tanned mole-dotted skin were gone from those haunted halls.

He didn't get it. Didn't get Eddie's fascination with the guy.

Until now.

The doors that were once firmly shut on his bisexual brain are now BLOWN wide open by abs. Steve's been working out lately to help Lucas with basketball (Lucas was a little iffy about picking it back up but the team who man-hunted Eddie were... uhm... eaten... so! Yeah, new team!! Better guys!!) he's been doing weights, jogging, swimming more hence the pool cleaning, he's been keeping fit and active he's in the best shape he's been since sophomore year!

Sure those glistening abs are littered with scars, scars that match Eddie's, scars that nobody will explain. But that only makes him, and the abs he has under a healthy, soft layer of cushion more metal.

Will's not fairing much better either. His eyes are wide, his mouth open. Could probably catch flies.

He didnt get it either. At least not at first. His type was Mike. All long legged noodle boy Mike with his excellent bone structure. His type was Mike. A tall, skinny nerd.

He didn't get Lucas's fascination with him, or Dustin's hero worship of him, didn't understand because he'd never really experienced a 'he's so fuckin awesome' Steve moment! He wasnt there at the byers house with the demogorgon, wasnt there at the junkyard with the demodogs, wasnt there in the tunnels lighting that shit up, wasnt there in the russian bunker, and wasnt there in the upside down, he's never seen Steve at his best.

Mike, in his endless disgust of whatever the fuck is going on right now because FUCK Steve and his entire ridiculously pretty face (Mike has eyes, as disgusted as he is to acknowledge it Steve is pretty!), has tried getting Will's attention five times now, it's gone, baby gay Byers whole brain has lit up with oooo yes pls, and its focus is entirely on Steve, sorry Mike.

Steve just in his own little world having completely forgotten that he agreed to host Hellfire at the house, completely unaware that he's the star of the best show in Hawkins.

Here was the thing. Will had….has a gift.

It was a silent one at first, saved for school things and then onto privately coloring his pictures. Until after he came back from the upside-down. After their whole universe twisted and tore, the bells rolling the deaths of thousands.

First he drew their stories, their characters that they lovingly brought to life in their little dungeons and dragons group: Will being the wise, Mike the Gallant, Dustin the All-Knowing, Lucas the Swift and True.

After the upside-down, his pictures grew darker. These he kept quiet, secret to himself because he didn’t want to be known as zombie-boy, the broken one, the creep. He drew what he saw and sometimes what he drew? It came alive.

First were the vines while under the spell of the mindflayer, his mind confused and riddled like the endless tunnels and cross-crossing vegetation that nearly killed him the first go-around.

After the Mindflayer left, Will was torn. He was forced to leave the home he always knew, battered and broken as he often felt. He left behind the things that made him who he once was: toys were for children and he wasn’t one anymore, that innocence was lost to him.

Will grew quiet, contemplative. His mom and brother knew he was keeping secrets but if they knew this one? Would they love him still?

Dr. Owens often said if he couldn’t express what he was feeling out loud then maybe writing..? No, words did come to him but not in a way he could encompass everything, all of it. Since he couldn’t articulate he resorted to the only other thing he could think of to cast his mind to peace, one to bring him to a meditative state.

Painting.

He spent hours, days, weeks, months planning and outlining everything that had been haunting his dreams since he left Hawkins. The urgency to get out on canvas twisting his guts and stealing his every waking thought. They would chase and snap like the many heads of the hydra he drew.

His inspiration was Tiamat and he hoped that Mike noticed he included his favorite iteration of the dragons in their core book.

He drew Mike the gallant, in silver and gold shining armor. He raised his arms: one to deflect the flames with a mirrored shield, the other with an illuminated blade. The sword had a +5 for striking, he always imagined the blade was blue- like the heart of a flame. Just thinking of it made his heart warm, his hands shake, and he had to step away from the canvas for a week before he could finish it.

He finally did.

He sealed it to protect it, now dotted with new characters of their party. He was so nervous to give it to Mike, they’d barely spoken all summer but he knew El got letters…

He didn’t give the painting to him until after he let his heart a thousand times. Only having a shard of courage to give it to him after they lost her. It cheered Mike in a way, and Will didn’t know what he did with it, everyone so concerned about Hawkins. And it was fine.

It was fine. It was good to know that he got it out, told Mike a bit of how he felt.

It wasn’t enough but he would live.

Dustin though. He lost something-someone, a whole part of him that he’d never, ever get back again.

Eddie.

He listened to every story, asked endless questions, watched Gareth imitate the man they all loved until he broke down sobbing. Will held him through that storm, the two becoming much closer that Will thought he could have. Asking Gareth if it would hurt too much: if he could have a few pictures of Eddie, anything and that he would give them back as soon as he was done?

Done with what Gareth never asked, just handed Will a book full of polaroids, so many Will had to keep himself from laughing. A lot were of them and their band: Eddie in full glam makeup for a costume party, Eddie on stage shining like a rock star, Eddie high as a kite and cuddling a disgruntled Gareth, Eddie being held up by the band and squirming from Freak trying to take off his boots.

Eddie laughing with his head thrown back, eyes scrunched and cackling surrounded by supremely pissed off Hellfire members.

Eddie quiet. Studying. Reading. Smiling.

So many pictures, a whole lifetime of a person Will never got to meet but everyone said they would be fast friends. Robin saying they had a lot in common with an almost knowing look in her sharp eyes.

Will took them all and studied them, spent all of his waking hours in the corner of his room at his desk, the light above him always on as if inspiration was flowing into him.

He started to imagine his last hours i the upside-down, knowing the story by heart due to getting Dustin alone and talkative one night. How he distracted the demobats by playing “Master of Puppets” on his guitar on top of his nightmare trailer. How the air vents weren’t enough to hold all of them, and how he sacrificed his own life to protect Dustin, and the town that made him the villain.

Soon the sketch was done, and it was as if Will was a mere conduit, a puppet himself. He looked at it as though he could hear his focused breath, feel his joy at playing- his ever present fear, could smell the leather and sweat.

For an entire week Will knew nothing but the shade of his hair, the sweep of his lashes, the scars on his fingers from the guitar. This enthralled and terrified him, the level of detail, the layers of paint and blue wash that seemed to tinge everything with sadness.

He drew Eddie like he always saw him in the pictures: unbridled and alive, joy bursting from him like he was a firework. Smiling as he shredded and getting every note perfect, the demobats and red lightning soaring above and surrounding him in the background.

With every brush stroke he felt tingling in his fingertips, warmth going up his arms. He added highlights to Eddie’s curls, the glint in his rings, the shine of the sweat, the bright light shimmering in his doe-like eyes.

His heart hammered painting the shadows in the dip of his neck, the crook of his long fingers, the folds in his clothing and holey jeans.

When he was finished, feeling like the cord had finally been cut, he sucked in air like he was barely breathing. And maybe he was. His stomach hurt-growling with hunger. He knew his lip split at one point due to being dry and bitten in concentration.

Looking at the painting he gasped. He couldn’t-

He couldn’t have drawn that. Eddie looked like the god Apollo, like Icarus, and lucifer all in one. Dark and bright and beautiful. And he never met him.

Tears streamed down his face, the emotions so raw and deep. This was Dustin’s grief, he knew. This was Wayne’s unspoken screaming agony at having this man torn from their lives so suddenly and brutally.

He took the time to shower and eat, change his clothes and getting the items he would need to transport it to his friend. Walking back into the room didn’t change the picture at all, made it even more dimensional but he supposed it was delusion and hopeful feeling.

He heaved a beleaguered sigh as he swiped the first brush of sealant over the dry painting, even though he could see his faults- that many the nose could have been a little more smooth, maybe some extra shine on the rings, it was finished.

He kept the painting right where it was to dry, and went to go out with El and Joyce. It took them all by surprise when it started snowing in the middle of Spring, realizing that it was ash from the fires and rifts that were ripped open by Vecna.

He didn’t put two and two together until they heard the screeching from many large, frightening mouths. He was scared, gripping Mike’s hand as he clutched El’s. He knew. Knew it was Vecna, the Mindflayer, and lastly-

Tiamat. The hydra.

They let the government take care of that, their focus was keeping the town together. Soon all the dead were coming back but..different. They smelled like another word, and though they looked harmless enough it was when they were hungry or weak that their faces blossomed open like the demogorgon se. Soon brother had to kill brother, wife her husband, even the children weren’t safe. And there was no hiding. They could sense the living: hear their heartbeats and frightened breaths.

Will had forgot to give Dustin the portrait until they were huddled in his room late at night, keeping clear of the windows in case they would be seen, trying to scavenge for clean clothing, blankets, food-anything and everything.

He didn’t realize what they were looking at for a brief moment until he heard a choked sob and turned to see his pale, tear-stained face. Will shuffled to the painting despite Dustin’s harsh breathing and pleas to ‘keep down, they’ll see you’. This was a risk Will needed to take if his hunch was correct. He carefully tugged it from his easel, the canvas peeled off the frame soundlessly, as if even the painting knew the need for silence.

“I know,” Will started, his voice raspy from disuse, “I know this isn’t enough. But I wanted you to have something. If that’s-that’s okay.”

He handed it to Dustin who took the canvas in shaking fingers, “This…this is Eddie. How-”

“It’s not important now. It’s enough he’s with you. I meant to give it to you a while ago but with everything-” he was stopped by the crush of Dustin’s arms around him, the painting in-between and probably getting cracks in the layers but neither cared. He held Dustin as he poured renewed grief into his neck, his cold tears chilling and winding down under his shirt, and Will didn’t cared about that either. All he cared about was being there for his friend as he mourned a father figure he only got to have for about as long as his dad stayed in his life.

From that day on, Dustin held a bit more courage. He change his look a little: wearing a battle vest in tribute to Eddie. He let himself be as intense as he wanted, inspired by Eddie’s passion and endless love. He threw himself into their battle, defending those who couldn’t or were too scared to fight, his bad ankle being nothing but an inconvenience.

Until one night they were surrounded, inside an igloo jungle gym. How they got into the situation was ridiculous: Dustin heard a crying cat. Pulling an Eddie he went out to find it and lost track of time. Now they were surrounded by demobats gnashing their fangs and screeching with bloodthirsty fangs to get at their tender flesh.

Will had a gun. He was saving it, not having a lot of bullets. They were hours from dawn- Erica was scared and crying. He pulled her into his arms, shoving her face into the crook of his neck and shoulder, his other hand resting on the gun and mentally counting the bullets he had left. Four, he had four. One for each of them and maybe to take one of the bats out once they got through. The metal bars were groaning and popping with the weight.

Erica screamed.

The demobats stopped. They quieted and their little sightless eyes turned to a new prey.

“Jesus fucking Christ are they ever going to learn?” Dustin spat angrily, radioing for help. It wasn’t frequent but people did try to brave the night believing the demobats weren’t real.

Until he heard the music, the deep growling tone of a guitar riff. The demobats screeched, Will’s heart hammered anew, Dustin’s face drained of all color as the demobats seemed to calm, bobbing their heads in sync to the notes spilling from…somewhere.

They lifted off, one by one then two by two at a time. With each layer of their wings lifting they could see through the bars:

A lone figure, walking down the road so casual and slow as if he were strolling through the town on a bright summer day and not moldering in the upside-down. His rings glinted under the waning crescent moon, the ever present lightning highlighting the sparkle in his dark eyes.

The demobats were pulled, flying around their master and completely forgetting their prey sitting huddled together under bent steel. They wheeled around and flew like blissful birds than the terrifying creatures they were just moments before.

The man stopped just at the border of the jungle gym, power rolling off of him like the after math of thunder, smelling like ozone and smoke.

Dustin got to his feet first, Erica still crying out of fear. Will pulled her up, her bravery slowly coming back and wiping angrily at her eyes. Will was shocked. This man looked exactly like-

“Eddie?” Dustin’s voice warbled on a sob, hope and pain warring in the tone.

He smiled back in the same way as Will had seen in all the pictures, now more alive than ever.