Archive of Our Own

The needle sat on the desk between them like it always did - small, precise, unassuming. Eddie stared at it anyway, jaw tight, leg bouncing so hard the chair creaked beneath him.

Robin pretended not to notice. She was perched on the edge of his bed, sneakered feet hooked around the rungs of the chair, tapping a rhythm only she could hear. She’d laid everything out with practiced care: alcohol wipe, syringe, vial, cotton pad. A ritual they both knew by heart.

“You wanna count?” she asked lightly, snapping on the gloves. “Or you good today?”

Eddie huffed a laugh that didn’t quite land. “Don’t patronize me, Buckley. I’m a big, brave metalhead. I don’t need counting.”

“Uh-huh.” She raised an eyebrow. “Says the guy who once made me sing Africa to distract him.”

“That was a dark time,” Eddie said solemnly. “Also, you were off-key.”

“Lies. Pure slander.”

He reached for the vial, rolling it between his fingers. The glass felt colder than usual. He frowned, turning it slightly, tipping it toward the light coming through the thin curtains.

Robin’s chatter slowed. “What?”

“There’s-” Eddie shook it once. Then again. The sound inside was wrong. Too light. “There’s nothing in here.”

She leaned forward, peering over his shoulder. Silence stretched, thick and heavy.

“Oh,” she said quietly.

Eddie turned the vial upside down. Not a drop moved. “That’s… not great.”

Robin blew out a breath through her nose. “Okay. Okay. That’s fine. We can- we can fix that.”

He laughed again, sharper this time. “Sure. Yeah. Easy fix. Just casually summon testosterone from the void.”

She nudged his knee with hers. “Hey. We’ve dealt with worse.”

He didn’t answer. His gaze was still locked on the vial, like if he stared long enough it might magically refill itself.

Robin reached out and took it from him, setting it aside. “Alright. Inventory time. When’s your next refill supposed to be?”

“Today,” Eddie said. “That was the refill.”

“Right. And Chicago?”

“Yeah.” His throat tightened around the word. “Clinic’s in Chicago.”

Robin nodded slowly, already running through logistics in her head. “Wayne’s off today?”

“Half day,” Eddie said. “He said he could drive me if I needed him to.”

“If,” she echoed, then snorted. “As if.”

He finally looked at her. Really looked. Her face was calm, but her eyes were sharp, focused. Protective. She’d worn that same expression the first time he’d ever let her help with a shot, hands shaking so badly he’d nearly dropped the syringe.

“You don’t have to come,” he said automatically. “It’s boring. Long. Doctors being-” He made a vague, dismissive gesture. “Doctors.”

Robin’s mouth twisted. “Eddie.”

“I’m serious. You hate Chicago traffic.”

“I hate Hawkins traffic,” she shot back. “Chicago traffic is just louder. Also, you’re not going alone.”

He hesitated. That familiar, stubborn instinct to keep things contained, manageable. Just him and Wayne. Just him dealing with it.

Then again - Robin already knew everything. The shots. The scars. The nights he’d sat on this very bed, knees pulled to his chest, convinced he’d never be enough of anything.

“You sure?” he asked quietly.

She smiled, small but fierce. “I’m sure.”

He swallowed. “Okay.”

They sat there for a moment, the room humming with the low buzz of his amp in the corner, the distant sound of a lawn mower outside. Everything felt normal. Too normal. Like the world hadn’t quite caught up to the fact that something had gone wrong.

“I’ll go tell Wayne,” Eddie said, pushing himself to his feet.

Robin stood too, grabbing her jacket from the back of the chair. “Shotgun.”

He smirked despite himself. “In his truck? Good luck.”

“Please. I’ve been training my whole life for this.”

They made their way down the narrow hallway of the trailer, Eddie’s boots thudding softly against the floor. Wayne’s voice drifted in from the kitchen, radio murmuring in the background.

“Wayne?” Eddie called.

His uncle appeared in the doorway, wiping his hands on a rag. “Hey, son. Everything alright?”

Eddie opened his mouth. Closed it. Tried again. “Uh. Clinic’s… we gotta go to Chicago. Today. Refill thing.”

Wayne’s expression shifted instantly - concern first, then resolve. “Alright. Let me grab my keys.”

Just like that. No questions. No hesitation.

Robin watched the exchange with something like awe, even after all this time.

“Thanks, Wayne,” she said. “I’m coming too.”

Wayne chuckled. “Figured as much.”

As they stepped outside, the late afternoon sun was warm on Eddie’s face. He paused for half a second, hand on the doorframe, breathing it in.

It was just a refill, he told himself. Just a drive. Just another day.

But the empty vial sat heavy in his pocket, and for the first time in years, the certainty he’d built his life on felt fragile.

Robin bumped her shoulder into his. “Hey,” she said softly. “We’ll get it sorted.”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

He didn’t quite believe it.

But he climbed into the truck anyway.

Chicago smelled like exhaust and disinfectant and something metallic Eddie couldn’t place. The clinic sat wedged between a laundromat and a nail salon, the sign above the door sun-faded and flickering on one corner. He’d been coming here for years. Long enough that the cracked tile by the entrance felt familiar under his boots.

This was supposed to be routine.

Wayne parked the truck and cut the engine. “I’ll be right here,” he said, nodding toward the building. “Take your time.”

Robin hopped out first, slamming the door with more force than necessary. Eddie followed, heart already beating too fast, that prickly sense of wrong crawling up his spine.

Inside, the waiting room was smaller than he remembered. Or maybe it just felt that way now. A few plastic chairs. A rack of outdated magazines. The same potted plant in the corner, still somehow alive.

The receptionist looked up. Not the usual one.

“Name?” she asked flatly.

“Eddie Munson,” he said. His voice came out steady. He was proud of that.

She typed, frowned at the screen. Typed again. “Have a seat.”

They sat. Robin’s knee bounced this time, mirroring his. She leaned over, lowering her voice. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Eddie lied. “Just… hate doctors.”

She snorted. “Valid.”

They didn’t wait long. Too short, really. A door opened and a man stepped out - mid-forties, crisp white coat, glasses perched too low on his nose. 

“Edward Munson?” he called. This wasn’t right. His doctor was a woman.

Eddie stood. “Eddie.”

The doctor barely acknowledged the correction, turning back toward the hallway. Eddie hesitated, then followed, Robin at his side until the doctor stopped her with a hand.

“Only the patient.”

Robin shot Eddie a look - come get me if you need me - and he nodded before the door closed behind him.

The exam room was cold. Sterile. Too bright. Eddie sat on the edge of the chair, hands clenched together as the doctor flipped through his chart.

“You were previously seeing Dr. Kaplan,” the man said.

“Yeah,” Eddie replied. “For-” He gestured vaguely. “Years.”

The doctor hummed. “Dr. Kaplan is no longer with the clinic. They let her go.”

Eddie’s stomach dropped. “Oh. Uh. Okay. So… you’ll just need to refill my prescription. I’m due today.”

The doctor finally looked at him then. Really looked. His gaze lingered too long, sharp and assessing.

“No,” he said.

The word hit like a slap.

“I’m sorry?” Eddie asked, sure he’d misheard.

“I won’t be refilling it,” the doctor said calmly, like he was discussing the weather. “I don’t agree with this line of treatment.”

Eddie laughed, breathless and disbelieving. “What do you mean, you don’t agree? I’ve been on testosterone for-”

“I’m aware,” the doctor interrupted. “And I believe it’s misguided. Harmful, even. This-” He tapped the chart. “-is not evidence-based care. It’s indulging a delusion.”

Eddie’s ears rang. “That’s not- you can’t just- I need it. You don’t understand, I-”

“I understand perfectly,” the doctor said. “You’re a young woman who’s been encouraged to make irreversible decisions.”

“I’m not-” Eddie stood abruptly, chair scraping against the floor. “I’m not a woman.”

The doctor’s expression didn’t change. “Sit down.”

Eddie didn’t.

“Please,” he said, voice cracking despite his best efforts. “I’ve been stable for years. I go to school, I-I function. You can’t just cut me off like this.”

“It’s my medical opinion,” the doctor replied coolly. “I won’t be complicit.”

Eddie’s hands were shaking now. He pressed them against his thighs, grounding himself, desperate. “At least taper me off. At least give me something so I don’t-”

“Appointment’s over,” the doctor said, already reaching for the door. “You’re dismissed.”

The word echoed in Eddie’s skull.

The hallway felt too long on the way out. Too narrow. By the time he reached the waiting room, his vision had blurred, tears burning hot and unwanted.

Robin was on her feet instantly. “What happened?”

He shook his head, couldn’t speak, just pushed past the door and out into the open air.

The parking lot spun. He made it to the truck before his knees gave out, hands gripping the tailgate as a sob tore out of him, raw and broken.

Wayne was there in seconds. “Eddie- hey, hey-”

“He said no,” Eddie choked. “They gave me a different doctor. He said it’s bullshit. He won’t refill it. He- he kicked me out.”

Robin’s face went white, then red. “What? That’s illegal. It’s gotta be- That’s- I’ll go back in there, I swear to God-”

“I tried,” Eddie sobbed. “I begged him. He doesn’t care.”

Wayne’s jaw clenched, hands curling into fists. “I’ll talk to him.”

“It won’t help,” Eddie said quickly, panic lacing his voice. “Please. I just- I can’t do this again.”

Robin wrapped her arms around him from behind, pressing her forehead between his shoulder blades. “This isn’t your fault,” she said fiercely. “You hear me? This is not on you.”

He nodded, but it felt hollow.

The drive back to Hawkins was quiet.

Wayne focused on the road, knuckles white on the steering wheel. Robin stayed in the back with Eddie, one arm around him, letting him tuck his face into her shoulder when the tears came again.

Every mile felt like something slipping further out of reach.

When the skyline finally disappeared behind them, Eddie stared out the window, numb.

For the first time since he was fourteen, the future felt uncertain in a way that terrified him.

And he didn’t know how to stop it.

Eddie tried everything.

Not all at once. Not at first. He told himself he was being smart about it, careful. That he wasn’t panicking.

He asked around, quietly. A guy who knew a guy. A name passed to him in a parking lot, then another, then nothing. He drove out of town once, came back with empty hands and a stomach full of dread. Every lead fizzled. Every promise turned out to be bullshit.

He stopped asking after that.

The days stretched on. Then weeks.

At first, nothing happened. Or at least, nothing he couldn’t explain away.

The fatigue came first. Bone-deep tiredness that sleep didn’t touch. He blamed it on stress, on the long hours at school, on the constant low-level fear humming in his chest.

Then the headaches. Dull, persistent, like his skull was too tight.

He told himself it was fine.

The mirror became… complicated.

Some mornings, his face looked the same. Sharp jaw, familiar angles. Other mornings, something felt off. Softer, somehow. He leaned closer once, squinting at his reflection, searching for proof.

You’re imagining it, he told himself. You’re paranoid.

His voice didn’t change. That was the important part. He tested it constantly, humming low notes in the shower, talking to himself in the car, dropping his register on purpose. It was still there. Still his.

That had to mean something.

His body, though- his body felt wrong in a way he hadn’t felt in years.

A dull ache settled low in his abdomen some nights, easy to ignore until it wasn’t. He’d curl on his side, pressing a fist into his stomach, breathing through it like it was just another bad day.

Stress, he decided. Stress does weird shit.

He stopped marking time.

Before, everything had been structured around his shots. Weeks broken into neat, predictable pieces. Now there was nothing to count down to, nothing anchoring him. Days blurred together until he couldn’t remember when exactly things had started to feel off.

Robin asked how he was doing. He lied.

Wayne asked if he’d heard back from the clinic. He shook his head and changed the subject.

Some nights, Eddie lay awake staring at the ceiling of the trailer, listening to the distant hum of the highway. His chest felt tight, breath shallow, like his body was holding onto something it didn’t want.

He pressed a hand flat over his sternum, then lower, like he could physically will himself to stay the same.

This doesn’t mean anything, he told himself, again and again.

But deep down, in a place he didn’t want to look at too closely, fear had already started to take root.

And it was growing.

Robin’s legs were stretched out across Eddie’s bed, socked feet resting against the wall, notebook balanced on her stomach. She wasn’t writing anything. She just liked holding it. Something to do with her hands.

Eddie sat on the floor with his back against the mattress, knees pulled up, arms wrapped loosely around them. The room smelled like incense and old laundry and something faintly sweet from the candle burning on his desk.

They’d been sitting like this for a while. Comfortable silence, the kind they’d earned.

“You’ve been weird,” Robin said finally, not looking at him.

Eddie snorted. “Wow. Incredible insight, Buckley.”

“I’m serious,” she said, turning her head to face him. “You’re usually, like… loud-weird. This is quiet-weird. That’s different.”

He shrugged, eyes fixed on a crack in the wall. “Guess I’m branching out.”

She waited. Robin was good at that. Never pushed, never rushed. Just… stayed.

The ache in his stomach pulsed, low and dull, like it had been doing on and off all day.

“Something’s happening,” Eddie said at last.

Her expression softened instantly. “Okay.”

“I don’t know what,” he continued quickly, words tumbling over each other now that they’d started. “I mean, I do, obviously, but- I keep telling myself it’s nothing. That I’m just stressed or whatever.”

Robin closed the notebook and set it aside. “Eddie.”

He swallowed. “I feel… off. Not like before, but not like me either. And there’s this-” He hesitated, jaw tightening. “This pressure. Down here.” He gestured vaguely to his lower abdomen, then dropped his hand like it burned.

Robin didn’t flinch. “Cramps?”

“Yeah,” he admitted. “But not bad. Just… there.”

She nodded slowly, thinking. “And your cycle?”

His stomach flipped. “That’s the thing.”

Eddie leaned his head back against the mattress, staring up at the ceiling. The words felt dangerous, like saying them might make them real.

“Realistically,” he said carefully, “it should’ve come back by now. Right?”

Robin didn’t answer immediately.

“I mean, I’ve been off T for weeks,” he went on, voice tight. “But it hasn’t. So maybe-” He let out a shaky laugh. “Maybe I got lucky.”

Robin shifted, sitting up straighter. “Eddie.”

“What?” he asked, a little defensively. “It’s possible.”

“It is,” she said gently. “But it’s also okay to be scared.”

“I’m not scared,” he snapped, then deflated immediately. “I just- I can’t go through that again. I can’t turn back. I can’t.”

She slid off the bed and sat down next to him on the floor, shoulder pressing into his. Solid. Warm.

“You’re not turning back into anything,” she said firmly. “Your body’s reacting to something it was forced into. That doesn’t change who you are.”

He squeezed his eyes shut. “It feels like it does.”

“I know,” Robin said. “But feelings aren’t facts. Remember?”

He huffed a weak laugh. “Since when are you the rational one?”

“Since I became best friends with you,” she shot back. “Someone had to balance it out.”

They sat there, breathing in sync.

“If it does come back,” she said carefully, “we’ll deal with it. Like we always do.”

Eddie nodded against her shoulder. “I don’t want anyone else to know.”

“That’s your call,” she said immediately. “Always.”

He hesitated. “Even Steve?”

Robin’s eyes flicked to him. Just for a second.

“Even Steve,” she said. “But… you don’t have to go through it alone.”

Eddie exhaled slowly, some of the tension easing out of his chest.

“Okay,” he said. “Okay.”

For now, that was enough.

Outside, the sun dipped lower, casting long shadows across his room. Eddie watched the light shift, listened to Robin hum softly under her breath.

Maybe he had gotten lucky.

He clung to the thought like a lifeline.

Steve’s house was loud in the way Eddie liked: movie volume turned up too high, popcorn crackling in the microwave, Steve narrating the plot like he hadn’t already seen it twice.

“You’re gonna miss it if you keep staring at me,” Steve called from the kitchen. “This is the good part.”

“They’re literally just walking,” Eddie shouted back from the couch. “Nothing is happening. And I’m not staring. Just observing.”

“That’s called tension, Munson.”

Eddie grinned, feet kicked up on the coffee table, beer sweating in his hand. He felt… almost normal. For the first time in days, his body wasn’t screaming at him. The dull ache had faded to something ignorable. Background noise.

Maybe he was right after all. Maybe he’d gotten lucky.

The thought barely finished forming before Steve tossed him a fresh beer from the kitchen doorway. Eddie caught it easily, popping the tab with a practiced flick.

Something twisted low in his gut - sharp, sudden. He sucked in a breath, fingers tightening around the can.

Okay, he told himself. Just sat too long. Or- whatever.

The movie droned on. Eddie shifted once. Then again. The discomfort grew, spreading, a deep, pulsing pressure that made it hard to focus on anything else.

He stood abruptly. “Gonna grab some water.”

Steve glanced over. “You good?”

“Yeah,” Eddie said automatically. “Just thirsty.”

He took two steps toward the kitchen when Steve’s voice cut in again, sharp this time.

“Dude.”

Eddie turned.

Steve was staring at the couch.

There was a dark stain on the cushion where Eddie had been sitting. Bigger than a spill. Wrong in a way Eddie’s brain refused to process at first.

His ears rang.

“That’s-” Steve’s face drained of color. “That’s blood.”

Eddie looked down.

His sweatpants were soaked through at the back, dark red spreading fast, sticky and unmistakable. He felt suddenly lightheaded, like the room had tilted sideways.

“I-” His mouth opened. Nothing came out.

“Jesus Christ,” Steve said, already moving. “Are you hurt? Did you cut yourself? Eddie, what happened?”

Eddie didn’t answer. He couldn’t. His body felt distant, unreal, like he was watching this happen to someone else.

He bolted for the bathroom.

The door slammed shut behind him, the lock clicking into place. Eddie barely made it to the sink before his knees gave out. He fumbled with the waistband of his pants, hands shaking so badly he had to stop and try again.

When he finally got them down, the sight made his vision blur completely.

Blood. Everywhere. Fresh, heavy, nothing like the faint memories he had from years ago. This was violent. Unrelenting.

“No,” he whispered. “No, no, no-”

His chest hitched. The sound that tore out of him was raw and broken, more sob than breath. He pressed his forehead against the cool tile, shaking.

It can’t be this bad, he thought wildly. It wasn’t like this before.

He felt twelve again. Smaller. Trapped in a body that betrayed him over and over.

He looked down at himself again.

It was everywhere.

His boxers were soaked. Blood clung to his thighs, smeared where he’d tried - instinctively, uselessly - to stop it. His stomach twisted violently, cramps ripping through him with a force that made him cry out.

“No,” he whispered. “No, please-”

Another surge. Hot. Relentless.

He felt small. Cornered. Like his body had finally caught up to him and decided to drag him back kicking and screaming.

Outside the door, Steve was pacing.

“Eddie!” His voice cracked. “Talk to me. Please. That’s- that’s a lot of blood.”

Eddie slid down the cabinet under the sink until he was on the floor, knees pulled to his chest, arms wrapped around himself like he could physically hold everything in.

He could feel it still - running, soaking, refusing to stop. Every second stretched unbearably long.

“I can’t,” Eddie whispered, tears spilling freely now. “I can’t do this again.”

His chest heaved. He pressed his forehead into his knees, sobbing, body shaking hard enough to make his teeth chatter.

It was back.

Not just back - angry. Punishing. Like it was making up for lost time.

“Eddie?” Steve’s voice cracked. “Talk to me, man. You’re scaring me.”

Eddie dragged in a breath that burned. He wiped at his face with the heel of his hand, smearing tears uselessly.

“I’m fine,” he lied weakly.

“That’s a lot of blood for ‘fine’!”

Eddie squeezed his eyes shut.

Everything he’d been pushing down - fear, denial, hope - collapsed all at once.

His period was back.

And it felt like the universe was punishing him for ever believing he could escape it.

His arms wrapped around himself, he started rocking slightly as another wave of cramps tore through him.

“I can’t do this,” he whispered to the empty room. “I can’t-”

Steve knocked once, softly this time. “I’m right here,” he said. “Okay? I’m not going anywhere.”

Eddie buried his face in his hands and cried.

The blood wouldn’t stop.

Eddie could feel it even when he wasn’t looking - warm, slick, crawling down his skin in slow, humiliating trails. Every shift of his legs sent another rush through him, another reminder that his body was doing this without his consent.

Outside the door, Steve was still pacing. Eddie could hear it in the uneven rhythm of his footsteps, the way they stopped, started again.

“Eddie,” Steve said, knocking once. “Please. Open the door. I just- I need to see if you’re hurt.”

“I’m not,” Eddie snapped, voice cracking so badly it barely sounded like him. “I’m fine.”

“That’s bullshit,” Steve said immediately. “There’s blood on the couch. On the floor. You ran like- like something was really wrong.”

Eddie pressed his palm hard against his mouth, trying to swallow the sob clawing its way out of his throat. His whole body was shaking now, cramps twisting deep and sharp, each one dragging another wave of wet heat with it.

“I can’t,” he whispered.

“What?” Steve asked, closer now. “Eddie, what can’t you do?”

He slid his hand down his thigh without thinking, felt the sticky smear under his fingers, and immediately jerked it away like he’d been burned.

“I can’t talk to you,” Eddie choked. “I can’t- you can’t be in here.”

Silence.

Then, softer: “Did something happen to you? Did someone hurt you?”

The question broke something open in his chest.

“No,” Eddie said quickly. “No, it’s- it’s not that.”

“Then tell me what it is,” Steve said. “Please.”

Eddie squeezed his eyes shut so hard it hurt. His head was buzzing, thoughts slipping away from him like water through his fingers. He needed something familiar. Something safe.

“I need to call Robin,” he blurted out.

Steve didn’t hesitate. “Okay. Yeah. Okay. I’ll get the phone.”

“Bring it here,” Eddie said immediately, panic spiking. “Just- just hand me the receiver. Don’t you dare come inside.”

“Alright,” Steve said. “I’m right back.”

Eddie listened to his footsteps retreat, then pressed his forehead against the cool tile, breathing shallow and fast. His legs were numb. His stomach felt hollow, hollowed out from the inside.

Another cramp hit and he cried out, clutching his middle as more blood soaked through the ruined fabric and pooled beneath him.

Please, he thought desperately. Please hurry.

The footsteps returned. Eddie opened the door just a crack and landline slid across the floor, the receiver nudged close enough that Eddie could grab it without opening the door fully.

“Here,” Steve said quietly. “I’m just down the hall, okay?”

“Go away,” Eddie said hoarsely.

Steve hesitated. “Eddie-”

“Please,” he begged. “Just- go.”

There was a pause. Then the sound of Steve moving away, slower this time.

Eddie held the receiver with shaking hands and dialed from memory, fingers slipping on the plastic.

It rang once.

Twice.

Robin picked up. “Hello?”

Eddie broke.

“It’s back,” he sobbed. “Robin, it’s back, I’m bleeding so much, I’m at Steve’s and he can’t know, he can’t- I can’t let him-”

“Hey,” Robin said instantly, voice steady and grounding. “Hey. Eddie. Breathe. I’m here.”

“I didn’t think it would be like this,” he gasped. “It hurts so bad. It’s everywhere. I don’t know what to do.”

“I know,” she said softly. “I know. Listen to me. You’re okay. You’re not in danger, alright?”

“He saw the blood,” Eddie said, panic spiraling. “It’s on his couch. He’s freaking out. I can’t hide this anymore, how do I hide this-”

There was a brief pause on the line. Then, gently but firmly:

“Eddie… you might not be able to keep this from him.”

He sucked in a sharp breath. “No. No, I can’t tell him this. I can’t—”

“Listen,” Robin said. “Steve’s not stupid. And he’s not cruel. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I can’t let him see me like this,” Eddie whispered. “I can’t.”

“I know,” she said. “But the secret’s already escaping through the cracks. Keeping it now might hurt worse.”

“If he sees me, the real me, he’ll be disgusted. He will hate me and I’ll lose him and-“

“Eddie, no,” Robin said, firmly. “What’s between your legs doesn’t define you. And he won’t hate you. He’ll probably need a second to catch up, but it’ll be fine. Trust me on this one. I know Steve, he loves you.”

Eddie pressed his forehead to his knees, crying openly now. His body still wouldn’t stop, blood still sliding down his legs, slow and relentless.

“I can’t even find anything,” he said weakly. “There’s nothing in here. No- no pads, no tampons-”

“There should be some,” Robin said immediately. “Check under the sink. Or the other cabinet. Steve keeps them somewhere, I swear.”

“I looked,” Eddie said, voice raw. “I can’t find them.”

“Okay,” Robin said. “That’s okay. We’ll figure it out.”

He shook his head even though she couldn’t see him. “I don’t want him to know. I don’t want him to look at me and see-”

“I know,” she interrupted gently. “But he already sees you. This won’t change that.”

Eddie laughed weakly, broken. “You don’t know that.”

“I do,” Robin said. “Because if he were the kind of person who couldn’t handle this, he wouldn’t be standing outside that door right now.”

Another cramp tore through him and he cried out, phone clutched to his chest.

“I’m so scared,” he admitted.

“I know,” she said. “But I know you can do it. I’m so proud of you.”

He swallowed hard, tears dripping off his chin onto the tile.

“I don’t know what to do,” he whispered.

Robin exhaled slowly. “Then we take it one step at a time. Okay?”

Eddie nodded, even as his body kept betraying him, even as the blood kept running.

Outside the bathroom, Steve waited.

And Eddie knew - whether he was ready or not - nothing was going to stay hidden much longer.

Eddie stayed on the bathroom floor longer than he should have.

The cold tile leached through his clothes, grounding him just enough to keep him from floating apart completely. The bleeding hadn’t slowed. If anything, it felt heavier now - thick, clinging, undeniable every time he shifted his weight.

The phone lay silent beside him.

He wiped his face with shaking hands, then dragged himself upright using the counter. His legs felt weak, unsteady, like they didn’t quite belong to him anymore. When he pulled his sweatpants back up, the fabric stuck to his skin, already ruined beyond saving.

He cracked the door open.

Steve was right where he’d said he’d be, down the hall, hands shoved through his hair, eyes snapping up the second the door moved.

“Oh thank God,” Steve said, relief flooding his voice. “Eddie, okay- okay, we need to-”

“Where are the pads?” Eddie interrupted.

Steve blinked. “The- the what?”

“The pads,” Eddie snapped, panic flaring hot and sharp. “Or tampons. Robin said you have some. I can’t find them. I need them now.”

Steve stared at him like the words weren’t landing. “Eddie, you’re bleeding. We need to check-”

“I know I’m bleeding!” Eddie shouted, voice cracking apart. “I’m fine. I’m not hurt. I just need the fucking period stuff.”

The hallway went very, very quiet.

Steve’s mouth opened, then closed again. Confusion flickered across his face, followed quickly by something else - concern, still, but softer. Careful.

“…Okay,” he said slowly. “Okay. You’re in the wrong bathroom.”

Eddie froze. “What?”

Steve gestured down the hall. “The guest bathroom doesn’t have any. Mine does.”

He stepped closer, careful not to crowd him. “Come on. I’ll show you.”

Eddie hesitated. Every instinct in his body screamed at him to retreat, to lock himself away again. But the blood was still running, still soaking, and he didn’t have the strength to argue anymore.

He followed.

Steve pushed open the door to his en-suite bathroom and crossed straight to the cabinet beneath the sink. He pulled out a small, neatly organized box and held it out like it was the most normal thing in the world.

“Here,” he said. “Pads, tampons - different sizes, I don’t know. Painkillers too.”

Eddie stared at it, chest tight.

“You-” His voice failed him. He swallowed and tried again. “You have all this?”

Steve shrugged, a little sheepish. “Yeah. I mean… I figured it was important.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “For Nancy. And Robin. If they ever needed it here.”

Something in Eddie’s chest fractured quietly.

“Oh,” he managed.

Steve watched his face, brows knitting together. “Eddie… you sure you’re okay? Because it looks like you’re hurt. Like- really hurt.”

Eddie’s vision blurred again.

“I’m not,” he whispered. “I just- I can’t-”

His knees buckled.

Steve caught him immediately, arms solid around his shoulders, lowering him to the bathroom floor like it was instinct, like he’d done this a hundred times before.

“Hey,” Steve said softly, panic bleeding back into his voice. “Hey. Sit. Just sit. I’ve got you.”

Eddie’s breath hitched. He pressed his fists into his thighs, knuckles white.

“We need to take a look,” Steve said gently. “Whatever’s going on- you’re bleeding too much for me not to.”

Eddie shook his head frantically. “No. No, you can’t.”

“Eddie,” Steve said, crouching in front of him now, eyes level. “I’m not trying to hurt you. I just need to make sure you’re safe.”

The room felt too small. Too bright. His body was screaming, his mind unraveling thread by thread.

He laughed weakly, broken. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”

Steve frowned. “What doesn’t?”

“There’s no point,” Eddie whispered. “You’re going to find out anyway.”

Steve’s breath caught.

Eddie squeezed his eyes shut.

“Just-” His voice shook violently. “Just don’t look at me like I’m not who you thought I was.”

Steve didn’t answer right away.

When he did, his voice was steady. “I promise.”

Eddie nodded once.

That was all the permission he had left to give.

Steve knelt in front of him, the bathroom tile cold beneath both of them.

“So,” he said, voice tight with fear he hadn’t managed to shake yet. “You’ll let me check the wound?”

Eddie shook his head weakly, tears still clinging to his lashes. “It’s not a wound.”

Steve frowned. “Then what is it?”

Eddie’s hands trembled in his lap. His whole body felt hollowed out, stripped down to nerve endings and fear. There was no energy left to fight this. No place left to hide.

“It just isn’t” he whispered. 

Steve hesitated. “Can I… can I look? Take your pants off?” he asked carefully. “I won’t do anything unless you say it’s okay.”

Eddie swallowed hard.

“Just-” His voice broke. “Just don’t freak out.”

Steve nodded immediately. “I won’t.”

That was the best promise Eddie was going to get.

With shaking hands, Eddie loosened his grip on his waistband. Steve helped him carefully, slowly, pulling his sweatpants down just enough to see.

Steve froze.

Not because of the blood - that part he’d already expected.

But because there was no bulge in his boxers. No shape where there should have been one. Just fabric clinging flat against Eddie’s body, soaked red.

Steve’s breath hitched.

“Oh,” he said quietly.

Eddie squeezed his eyes shut. “I know it doesn’t make sense.”

"Can I?" Steve asked, reaching for the waistband of Eddie's boxers. 

Eddie just nodded, not looking at him.

Steve swallowed and gently pulled the fabric aside, only as much as necessary.

What he saw made his stomach drop.

There was no injury. No cut. No torn skin.

Just a thick clot of blood parting tender folds as it slipped out. Unmistakable, bleeding heavily, the source of everything he’d been panicking about. Blood pooled and smeared between Eddie’s thighs, thick and bright, clearly coming from inside his body, not from a wound.

Steve went completely still.

His brain scrambled to catch up, trying to force the pieces into something that made sense.

Eddie Munson.

Loud.

Sharp.

Confident.

A boy.

A man.

And yet-

“Eddie,” Steve said slowly, confused but gentle. “But- you’re not- you’re not a girl.”

“I know,” Eddie said immediately, voice raw. “I never was.”

Steve looked up at him, searching his face.

“I was born wrong,” he said, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. “I mean- not wrong. Just- not like this. Not how you think.”

Steve went very still.

Eddie squeezed his eyes shut. “I’m a guy. I’ve always been a guy. But my body didn’t get the memo. I started testosterone when I was fourteen. I had top surgery. I’ve been-” His voice broke. “I’ve been myself for years.”

Steve’s breath hitched, but he didn’t interrupt.

“I got cut off,” Eddie whispered. “The doctor wouldn’t refill my prescription. And now this is happening and I’m so scared because it feels like my body’s trying to drag me back somewhere I barely survived.”

Silence filled the bathroom. Thick. Heavy.

Steve spoke carefully. “Eddie… are you saying-”

“Yes,” Eddie said, barely audible. “I'm transgender.”

Steve nodded once, like he was filing the information away, not recoiling from it. “Okay.”

That single word - okay - nearly broke Eddie all over again.

He gathered all his courage and pulled up his shirt with one hand, just enough for Steve to see - to see how his chest had changed in shape, just slightly, just a little softer around the edges now.

Steve’s eyes flicked to Eddie’s chest without thinking - the scars he’d noticed before, jagged and uneven.

“The scars,” Eddie continued, bitter. “They’re not from my dad. I lied. Well, not entirely. But he never had a go at me with a knife or anything. His fists did enough damage.” He scoffed. “They’re from surgery. It wasn’t pretty. But it was enough.”

He let the shirt fall back down.

Steve felt something twist painfully in his chest.

“You didn’t tell us,” he said softly.

“I was scared,” Eddie admitted. “I didn’t want to lose anyone. I didn’t want to be that thing people whisper about.”

Steve shook his head immediately. “You didn’t lose Robin. You didn’t lose me.”

Eddie laughed weakly. “You’re saying that now.”

“I mean it,” Steve said firmly. “You’re a boy. This-” He gestured vaguely between Eddie’s legs, clearly uncomfortable with how close they were, Eddie so exposed in front of him, but trying not to show it. “This doesn’t change that.”

Eddie blinked. “You- you’re not confused?”

“I mean,” Steve said, huffing out a small breath, “yeah. A little. But not about you.”

Eddie’s breath stuttered. “I’m scared,” he admitted. “I’m scared that if I stay off testosterone long enough, I’ll- I’ll lose myself.”

Steve reached out without thinking and took Eddie’s hand. Warm. Solid.

“You won’t,” he said firmly. “And even if your body does weird, shitty things? You’re still Eddie. You’re still a guy. That doesn’t get taken away from you. If someone begs to differ, I’ll punch them in the face.”

Tears slipped down Eddie’s face, silent and unstoppable, as he huffed out a small laugh.

“I should’ve told you,” he whispered.

“You told me when you could,” Steve said. “That’s enough.”

Eddie laughed weakly. “You’re being really calm about this.”

Steve squeezed his hand. “I’m being calm because you need me to be.”

Eddie closed his eyes.

For the first time since the clinic, since the empty vial, since the fear took root - something loosened in his chest.

He wasn’t alone.

And Steve wasn’t going anywhere.

Steve was the first one to break the silence.

“Okay,” he said quietly, like he was talking to someone fragile but not broken. “What do you need right now?”

Eddie shrugged weakly, eyes fixed on the tile. His whole body felt wrung out, hollow. “I don’t know.”

Steve nodded, accepting that answer without pushing. He glanced down again, taking in the blood still coating Eddie’s thighs, the way it had smeared as he moved.

“It’s… a real mess,” Steve said carefully. “We should clean you up. Get you into something dry. Okay?”

Eddie’s throat tightened. “I can’t.”

Steve looked at him. “Can’t what?”

“I can’t touch myself down there,” Eddie said, voice shaking. “I can’t look at it. If I do, I’m going to lose it completely.”

Steve didn’t respond right away. He took a breath, steadying himself.

“Would you be okay,” he asked slowly, “if I helped you?”

Eddie froze.

“I won’t do anything without you saying yes,” Steve added immediately. “And if you want me to stop at any point, I stop. No questions.”

“Okay,” he whispered. The word came out broken, soaked in tears.

Steve knelt in front of him, moving slowly, deliberately.

“I’m going to clean you up,” he said softly. “Just enough to get the blood off. If it’s too much, you tell me, okay?”

Eddie squeezed his eyes shut and nodded, fresh tears sliding down his cheeks.

Steve grabbed a washcloth from under the sink and turned on the warm water, testing it with his wrist the way he’d seen Nancy do once. He knelt back down in front of Eddie, keeping his movements slow, predictable.

“I’m going to clean between your legs,” Steve said quietly. “I’ll touch you there, yeah?”

Eddie nodded, eyes squeezed shut.

The moment Steve’s hands touched his thighs, Eddie let out a shaky sob, breath stuttering wildly. He grabbed onto the edge of the sink like it was the only thing keeping him upright.

“I’m sorry,” he cried. “I’m so sorry, this is so messed up-”

“Hey,” Steve said immediately. “You don’t need to apologize. Not once.”

Steve worked carefully, methodically. He avoided looking more than necessary, focused on the task the same way he would if Eddie had scraped up his knee or split his lip. He wiped away the blood from Eddie’s inner thighs, gentle where the skin was sensitive, rinsing the cloth again and again as it came away red.

Eddie cried the whole time - quiet at first, then louder when another cramp hit, body curling in on itself instinctively.

Steve paused every time Eddie tensed, waiting until his breathing evened out again.

“You’re doing really good,” Steve murmured without thinking.

By the time Steve helped him out of the ruined clothes, Eddie was shaking with exhaustion, tears clinging to his lashes, cheeks blotchy and red.

“I’ll go over there to my dresser and get some new clothes, okay? Just stay there,” Steve said and went to get some fresh boxers and sweatpants.

He threw them onto the bed, hurrying back to Eddie. 

He hesitated just a second, then asked, “Do you want to lie down?”

Eddie nodded again.

Steve scooped him up without comment, careful and sure, before he grabbed a towel from the rack next to the door and carried him to the bed. Eddie clung weakly to his shirt, face buried against Steve’s shoulder.

Steve set him down gently, helped him position himself on the towel so the bed wouldn’t get stained.

“Still okay?” Steve asked quietly.

“Yes,” Eddie whispered.

“Which do you want?” Steve asked softly. “Pad or tampon?”

Eddie hesitated, shame burning hot in his chest. “I don’t want to see the blood,” he admitted. “So… tampon. But I- I can’t do that part. I can’t put it in, I won’t- I can’t touch- so I don’t know-”

Steve nodded, heart hammering. “Okay. It’s okay. Let me help?” 

Eddie gasped softly. “You sure?” he whispered. 

Steve nodded. “Yeah, sure. Just tell me what to do.” 

He went to the bathroom, grabbing the box with the period products and the wet cloth. 

He sat back down on his bed between Eddie’s legs and smiled softly. “Open your legs for me again?” he whispered and Eddie did, slowly. 

Steve wiped the newly escaped blood away before he stared at the different tampons. “Yeah so. I’m kinda lost here. Which size is for what, like-?”

Eddie chuckled softly, taking the biggest one out of the box. “Small for light flow, big for heavy flow,” he explained. “If you don’t want to poke around my vagina every hour or so, I suggest taking the biggest one.” 

There. He’d said it. His vagina. For some reason, it didn’t sting the way Eddie had thought it would. Not when it was Steve sitting between his legs, about to help him with the tampon, about to touch him there.

Steve nodded. “Okay, yeah, got it. But I wouldn’t mind, just so you know. I’d help you change it every five minutes if you needed me to.” 

Eddie smiled, leaning forward to press a kiss to Steve’s cheek. “Thank you. But it’s okay, take that one.”

He handed it to Steve, who took it out of the plastic. 

“Here goes nothing,” he mumbled, leaning down. 

Then focused on what needed to be done. He didn’t rush. He didn’t comment. He followed Eddie’s quiet cues, inserting the tampon carefully, hands steady despite his nerves.

When it was done, he helped Eddie into the clean boxers and sweats, pulling them up slowly, respectfully.

“Alright,” Steve said softly. “All set.”

Eddie let out a shaky breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

He opened his eyes and caught the blood on Steve’s index finger. He swallowed hard. “You need to-“ he started, pointing at Steve’s hand. 

Steve didn’t even look at it. “I know. I will.”

Eddie nodded, before he turned his face into the pillow, shoulders shaking again, the release hitting him all at once.

“I thought I was losing myself,” he sobbed. “I thought if you saw me you wouldn’t- you wouldn’t want me around anymore.”

Steve scooted closer on the bed, close enough that Eddie could feel the warmth of him through the blankets.

“Eddie,” he said quietly, “seeing you like this doesn’t make me want you less. It just makes me want to take care of you.”

Eddie’s crying broke open fully then - deep, gasping sobs, everything he’d been holding back finally spilling out. Steve stayed, rubbing slow circles onto his back, steady and patient.

When the tears finally eased into shaky breaths, Steve got up. 

He tucked the blankets around Eddie, making sure he was warm, then hesitated.

“I’ll be right back,” he said. “Don’t move.”

He disappeared for a few minutes, then returned with a hot water bottle and a mug of tea. He set the mug on the nightstand before carefully placing the bottle against Eddie’s lower stomach.

“Robin and Nancy swear by this,” he said quietly. “Helps with cramps.”

Eddie’s eyes filled again, but this time the tears felt different.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

Steve sat on the edge of the bed, close but not crowding. “Get some rest,” he said. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Eddie nodded, exhaustion pulling him under.

Morning came slow.

It arrived in thin stripes of light across Steve’s bedroom carpet and the muted quiet of the house settling back into itself - no movie noise, no frantic footsteps, just the hum of the fridge somewhere down the hall and Eddie’s own breathing, steadier than it had been.

He woke up sore and heavy, like his bones had been replaced overnight. The cramps were still there, dulled into a deep ache that flared when he moved. His throat felt raw from crying. His eyes felt swollen.

For a few horrible seconds, he forgot where he was.

Then he shifted and felt the blanket tucked around him, the warmth of the hot water bottle near his stomach, and the memory hit like a wave.

Chicago. The doctor. The blood. Steve’s hands. Steve’s voice.

You’re a boy.

Eddie swallowed hard, blinking into the morning.

The bed dipped.

Steve sat on the edge like he’d never left, hair a mess, shirt wrinkled, eyes tired but soft. He held a mug of tea in both hands like it was an anchor.

“Hey,” Steve said quietly.

Eddie’s chest tightened. “Hey,” he managed, voice rough.

Steve watched him for a second. “How you feeling?”

Eddie made a face. “Like I got hit by a bus and then the bus backed up just to make sure.”

Steve let out a breath that might’ve been a laugh. “Okay. That tracks.”

Eddie shifted again, carefully, then immediately winced.

Steve’s gaze flicked down, worry sharpening. “Need anything?”

Eddie’s instinct was to say no. To be fine. To get up and pretend last night hadn’t cracked him open in a way he couldn’t seal back up.

But his body didn’t let him lie anymore.

“I-” Eddie swallowed. “Can you just… stay here a second?”

Steve didn’t hesitate. He reached out and rested a hand over Eddie’s wrist, warm and steady. “Yeah,” he said. “Always.”

Eddie’s eyes stung. He looked away so Steve wouldn’t see it, which was stupid, because Steve had already seen everything.

A knock came from the front door.

Steve’s head lifted. “That’s probably-”

Another knock, followed by Robin’s voice, loud enough to carry through the hallway.

“Steve! Open up! We’re delivering emergency medical supplies and emotional support!”

Eddie’s breath caught, half laugh, half panic.

Steve stood. “You want me to tell them to-”

“No,” Eddie said quickly. Then softer: “No. I… want them here.”

Steve nodded like that meant everything. “Okay.”

He squeezed Eddie’s wrist once before leaving the room.

Eddie heard the front door open, Robin’s voice immediately flooding the house, the sound of Nancy’s quieter laugh underneath it.

And then footsteps - two sets, moving fast.

Robin appeared first in the doorway, carrying a paper bag like it was sacred. Nancy followed behind her with a blanket draped over one arm and an entire stack of VHS tapes pressed to her chest. Both of them looked like they’d come straight from bed - messy hair, soft clothes, urgency still clinging to them.

Robin stopped when she saw Eddie in Steve’s bed.

Her expression softened so fast it almost hurt.

“Oh,” she said quietly.

Eddie’s throat tightened. “Hey.”

Robin crossed the room in three strides and sat on the edge of the bed, leaning in carefully like she wasn’t sure how close she was allowed to be. Eddie solved the problem by tipping forward and pressing his forehead into her shoulder.

She wrapped her arms around him immediately.

“Hi,” she murmured into his hair. “You’re okay. You’re here. You’re alive. Good.”

Eddie let out a shaky breath that sounded suspiciously like a sob. “You’re being… really intense.”

“I am always intense,” Robin said, fierce and offended. “This is not new.”

Nancy hovered by the door for a second, then stepped closer. Her eyes were tired, but warm. She set the blanket and tapes down on the dresser with a soft thump, then held up the bag Robin had brought.

“We brought offerings,” Nancy said, voice gentle. “Chocolate. Stuffed animals. Movies.”

Eddie lifted his head, blinking. “Stuffed animals?”

Robin pulled back just enough to dig into the bag dramatically. “Behold!” she announced, producing a plush bear with a ridiculously serious expression. “A warrior. A champion. A protector.”

Eddie stared at it. Then, despite himself, a laugh slipped out - small and broken at the edges, but real.

Nancy’s mouth quirked. “It helps,” she said, as if this was a scientific fact. “When we’re on our periods.”

Eddie paused. “We?”

Nancy nodded, utterly unbothered. “Yeah. Me too. Hit me this morning.”

Robin leaned in, stage whispering, “Nancy’s also in the trenches.”

Nancy rolled her eyes. “Robin.”

Eddie’s gaze flicked to her, then down, then back up, something in him softening. “That sucks.”

“It does,” Nancy agreed simply. Then she hesitated, as if choosing her words carefully. “We can just… hang out. No pressure. No talking if you don’t want.”

Eddie’s chest squeezed again, the weight of it - of them - of not being alone.

“Okay,” he said, voice thick. “Yeah. That sounds… good.”

Steve reappeared in the doorway like he’d been waiting to see how Eddie handled it, relief loosening his shoulders when Eddie didn’t shut down.

“Couch?” Steve asked.

Robin snapped her fingers. “Couch. Blanket. Movie. This is a care package operation.”

Nancy picked up the blanket. “We’re making a nest.”

Eddie snorted. “You’re all insane.”

“Correct,” Robin said brightly. “And you love us.”

Steve moved carefully as he helped Eddie sit up, giving him time, watching his face like he was reading it for pain. Eddie leaned into him without thinking, letting Steve steady him.

Robin pretended not to look smug about it.

They migrated to the living room in a small procession, Nancy and Robin arranging pillows and blankets on the couch like they were staging a ritual, Steve moving around them to clear space, Eddie moving slowly, wincing once but refusing to complain.

Nancy threw a pillow at Steve’s head. “Tea. Now.”

Steve caught it. “Yes, ma’am.”

Robin pointed at the VHS tapes. “I vote something stupid. Something that doesn’t require brain cells.”

Nancy held up a tape triumphantly. “Grease.”

Eddie sank into the couch with a sigh, shoulders dropping as the blanket went over his lap. Robin wedged herself at one side of him, Nancy on the other, the stuffed bear deposited into Eddie’s arms like a solemn offering.

He stared down at it, then hugged it closer.

Robin immediately made a sound of victory. “Yes. He accepts the Guardian.”

“Shut up,” Eddie muttered, but the corner of his mouth twitched.

Steve returned with a fresh round of tea - four mugs, steam curling upward. He set them down on the coffee table, then hovered in front of Eddie, hesitating.

Eddie’s stomach tightened, reflexive.

Steve’s voice was gentle. “Hey. Uh… you think you need a change?”

Robin and Nancy both went quiet instantly - not startled, just giving space.

Eddie swallowed. He hated how fast his body went tense, how the shame still tried to rise up even with friends in the room, even with Steve’s warmth and last night’s safety.

But he could feel it. The pressure. The dampness that meant time.

“Yeah,” he admitted quietly. “I… yeah.”

Steve nodded. “Okay. Come on.”

Eddie’s hands tightened around the bear for half a second, then he set it down on the couch like it was a promise he’d come back.

Robin bumped her shoulder into his gently as he stood. “You’re good,” she murmured.

Nancy’s eyes met his for a brief second - steady, understanding. “We’re right here.”

Eddie nodded, throat too tight to answer.

Steve guided him back to the bedroom with that same careful steadiness, the same patient pace, and Eddie let himself lean into it.

“How does Nancy know?” Steve asked softly, looking for the right tampon in the box. Eddie shrugged. “I told Robin that once she couldn’t hide it from her anymore she was free to tell her about me. I guess that moment came around last night.” 

Steve frowned. “You mean they had a sleepover when you called her?”

Eddie snorted, smiling to himself. “Yeah, yeah something like that.” 

When they returned a few minutes later, Eddie looked exhausted, but he was upright. Still here. Still himself.

Steve settled onto the couch - between Robin and Nancy, because there really wasn’t anywhere else - and Eddie hesitated for exactly two seconds before he grabbed the teddy bear and lowered himself into Steve’s arms like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Steve wrapped both arms around him immediately, chin resting against Eddie’s hair.

Robin, of course, made a small, strangled noise. “Oh my god.”

Nancy elbowed her. “Robin.”

“What?” Robin hissed. “I’m having feelings! Let me have them!”

Eddie let out a shaky laugh, tucking his face against Steve’s shoulder.

Steve pressed his lips briefly to the top of Eddie’s head - so quick it could’ve been accidental, except nothing about Steve was accidental.

The movie started.

The living room filled with familiar noise: dialogue and music and laughter and the soft rustle of blankets. Eddie let himself sink into it, into the warmth around him, into the steady rise and fall of Steve’s breathing behind him.

For the first time in weeks, the fear wasn’t the loudest thing in his head.

For the first time in longer than that, he believed it might not swallow him whole.

And when Steve’s arms tightened around him just slightly, like a quiet reminder - 

Eddie finally let his eyes close.

Safe.

Just for now.

But that was enough.