Chapter Text
Steve Harrington was no longer a skeptic. He couldn’t afford to be - not anymore, anyway. Fighting otherworldly demons with superpowered kids born of twisted government shenanigans is enough to erase skepticism from even the most uptight person. Steve was already on the fence about trusting in things that required faith: gods, ghosts, love. After El, after Dart, after the King of Hawkins High getting drugged by Russians with the snarky wallflower Robin Buckley, Steve could confidently say skepticism was no longer a trait of his. Well, mostly. There was still the whole deal regarding the red string.
The first time he saw the other end was in the halls of the high school. Some people wait for a perfect meet-cute moment to find the other end, citing that if fate determined their soulmate to indeed be theirs, then trusting fate to reveal them at the right time was part of the deal. Other people were too excited to wait, following the string as early as they could whether that meant traveling across the globe or across the street. Steve was in neither of these categories. He’d repeat the jargon of the first reason (it was huge with the ladies) but that was never the whole truth. He figured he’d be ready to settle down at some point but right now? Right now, he was the hottest kid in Hawkins. There were endless opportunities and adventures to be had with an endless amount of hearts. He was in no hurry to meet his soulmate. He wanted a little fun first.
So when he was laughing with some buddies on the way to calculus and bumped into some moppy mess of hair, he pretended he didn’t see it. It was easy, in the crowd of a hundred students, to convince himself that he didn’t see it. It was a little harder to hide the warble of shock in his voice when he snapped out a quick “watch it, freak!” to keep up appearances. It was a lot harder to continue to convince himself he didn’t see it, later that night alone in his room. Harder to sleep. Harder to keep his mind quiet. He slept with a record amount of people that week and drank more at the party that weekend than he ever had before.
A few weeks later, Barb went missing and there were bigger things to worry about than what he may or may not have seen when bumping shoulders with Eddie Munson in the hallway.
A few years later, the moment came back in flashes and swirls. The neon lights of the mall, Eddie’s smile, the funky patterns on the carpet, the masterful patchwork on Eddie’s jacket…
He needed to sober up, he needed a distraction again.
“I think I found someone better for me.”
“Steve, do you remember Tammy Thompson?”
Apparently, the universe had replied “fuck your distraction” and had presented him with someone who had accepted themselves, despite the pain that brought. So, fine. He couldn’t run away from it, but that didn’t mean he had to run towards it either. It wasn’t like there was any possible reason for him and Eddie to see each other again anyway.
Okay, so maybe they had to see each other again. But they didn’t have to acknowledge anything about it. No one else could see the string and Steve wasn’t about to bring it up. They had bigger things to worry about. Max, Vecna/Henry/whoever, the end of the world. Soulmates could wait until afterward. If there even was an afterward. If he didn’t look down at his hand, if he didn’t have to spend any time alone with him, then he didn’t have to think about it.
But Jesus Christ, it was hard not to think about it. Harder, when Eddie was gripping onto the tail of a Demobat and slinging it around like it was nothing. Harder still when he tossed his vest to Steve “for decency” (was Eddie having a hard time denying it too?). Hardest when Robin and Nancy were up ahead discussing the situation amongst themselves, and Eddie was right there with terrified doe eyes lit up with red lightning. Every twig snap or misplaced wind and Eddie was practically breaking his neck to look around every corner. He had to say something to distract him, something to calm him down.
“I just wanted to say thanks…”
Funnily enough, it was easy not to think about it when Steve was just talking to Eddie. Maybe, just maybe, everything was easy with Eddie. Maybe even an RV, a job, and kids would all be easy with Eddie.
But Steve would never know for sure.
He had to acknowledge it after setting Vecna ablaze. His sneakers thudded against the wooden stairs in the Upside Down. A tug on his finger made him yelp, immediately thinking the tentacles were back and ready to pull him, Nancy, and Robin to the wall. But this was different. This wasn’t a tight grip around his wrist or his throat, it was a burning sensation on his finger. Steve dropped off the last stair to his knees, gripping his wrist. He threw caution against alerting the attention of any creature left in the Upside Down, and he screamed. He screamed, dry and shrill as he watched the vibrant red string turn gray and lifeless, unraveling before him. The ring around his finger seared into his skin.
“Steve!” Robin was at his side in a second. Her worried face met Steve’s, tears of pain and grief across his cheeks. Robin’s eyes looked from Steve’s to the hand he held.
When soulmates find each other, when they finally grip each other’s hands and melt into each other’s touch, their string breaks, and a red ring scar is left on the finger in its place. But should a soulmate be lost before that moment…
Robin watched a gray ring scar across Steve’s left ring finger before he had the chance to cover it with his right hand. The two locked eyes for a moment of understanding. Steven collapsed into a heap, holding his left hand to his chest. Robin wrapped an arm around him, and he slumped into her, body shaking with sobs.
It was impossible not to think about. He had so much time, and he had wasted all of it.
He decided against explaining it to the kids. Robin knew, and it wasn’t like he could keep it from Nancy after she watched him collapse on the floor of Henry’s foyer, but the kids didn’t need any extra stress. Not after losing Hawkins. Not after Max. Lucky for Steve, you can still get away with wearing gloves during springtime in Indiana.
He thought about telling Eddie’s uncle. He watched Robin and Vickie make sandwiches and he swore he felt his scar burning. Wayne was hanging up posters, and he needed a distraction, but Henderson beat him to the punch. Steve kept working instead. At some point, the organizers told him to go home and get some rest, and so he did.
That’s how it was for the next few weeks. He went to volunteer until they told him to go home and get some rest. Some days he helped clean up Hopper’s cabin, some days he went to work. Apparently, people appreciate the distraction of their favorite movie after an apocalyptic event. Who knew?
At some point, no matter what he was doing, someone would tell him to go home and get some rest. He figured it was because of how tired he looked, which makes sense after the lack of sleep he’s been getting. What little sleep he could grip onto was restless and filled with nightmares. When Robin or Nancy told him to go home and get some rest, he knew they meant something different. Home wasn’t restful. At home, he was alone with his thoughts. At home, he was alone with the reminder on his hand that he would always be alone. That he could have changed it all if he had just been there. If he had just thought about it. Just once.
Steve rolled over. The clock read 1:30 am. He sighed and buried his face in his pillow. He peeked at the clock. 1:31. He closed his eyes. He counted, trying to bore himself to sleep. He opened his eyes for as long as he could, hoping to dry them out enough that he would keep them closed long enough to fall asleep. He checked the clock again. 1:32.
He got up. Damn it.
He shuffled over to his closet. Damn it, Harrington.
He moved over the pile of old clothes. Damn it, Harrington, go back to bed!
He pulled out Eddie’s vest from its hiding spot and crawled back into bed, curling his body around it.
“I’m sorry.”
At some point, he fell asleep. Crying always tires him out when it shakes his body. When he screams into his sheets and grips onto his pillow and sobs until what little energy is left, is gone. At some point, he finally closed his eyes. At some point, he buried his nose in Eddie’s vest and the lingering scent of weed and sweat lulled him to sleep. At some point, the scar on his ring finger began to shine red, and a vibrant string crawled across Hawkins.
And at some point, Eddie Munson inspired a horror trope that Sam Rainy would use a year later. On the other side of Hawkins, a hand pushed through the remnants of the Hawkins “earthquakes” and attached to the ring finger was the other end of a newly resurrected red string.