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Washed Up Best Selling Author Rushes To Escape Post Messy Divorce?

Steve Hopper, also known as S.M. Harrington and the polarizing author of the Love Runs Wild series, was spotted early yesterday morning in the Boston International Airport following the settlement of his divorce from high school sweetheart and actress Kelly Olan, as well as claiming custody of their son, Dustin.

The divorce came as a shock to the public, as Hopper and Olan’s relationship seemed nothing but idyllic from an outside view. Growing in fame side by side and raising a family, it was a surprise to learn how harsh of a preceding the two had.

Action was swift on Olan’s part after her decision was made, filing for their divorce and for custody seemingly out of nowhere, with strong opposition from the author. A screaming match caught by the courts tells us—

Steve closes the tab on his phone. He was there, no need to relive the last few months of his life from the outside.

He switches back to his text thread with Dustin, typing a quick

thank you for the update 👎

back. Steve really thought he could outrun the press, but he should know better by now.

You see, Steve has hit a bit of a writer's block recently.

If he had to pinpoint it, he would say that it started about the time where Kelly decided that Steve wasn’t enough and started cheating on him, give or take a few weeks.

His writing, his inspiration, drew from his real life relationship. It worked for him!

Until it didn’t. During his divorce, Steve’s books suffered. How could he be asked to write a loving romance when his own was dying?

He couldn’t, and now Steve is left with a character he just killed off and no romantic interest to foil his own character. How is he supposed to keep writing his series now?

Sure, the series is at an ending place, albeit not a satisfying one, but Steve’s publisher has him signed for another 2 books at least. That’s the curse of signing a best selling author who loses the spark of romance, he guesses.

There’s no getting out of it, he needs to write.

Even so, readers seem to hate his writing more than ever. No matter where he goes, someone recognizes him from his author's picture and has something to say about him.

Before all of this, the fans who would stop him on the street were fine. The usual comments being “What’s the next book about?” or “How’s Scott going to win Kendra back?” or his favorite “Love Runs Wild is my favorite series!”.

Recently it’s been more along the lines of “Scott’s so boring!” and “Kendra should find someone better in the next one, don’t you think?” and from the occasional angry person “You are a horrible writer now. Your old stuff is way better.”

It sucks, to say the least.

He needed a writer's retreat or something. Somewhere to find inspiration and somewhere people maybe hate him a little less. So right now, he is on an obscenely long taxi ride to the middle of nowhere, Scotland, hopefully to do just that.

Dustin had reminded him of the stories that his grandpa, Steve’s dad, would tell. Jim Hopper would wax poetic about one thing and one thing only, his time growing up in Scotland. The Hopper family, a name which Steve tries to hide from for anonymity sake, though his fans dredged it up immediately, used to be groundskeepers for one of the castles of the Royal family of a small Scottish town. He loves the tales of rolling hills and the castle his father worked in.

Hopper’s stories of the rain and the sun and the grass made Steve want to be a writer in the first place, and Dustin all but bought Steve his ticket out. What better place to get inspiration than somewhere with family roots, he thought.

Dustin came home from college for the trials, and the two spent the time researching the town. There’s not much information on Hawkins, Scotland online, but their searching is not fruitless. There are a few old articles and Instagram posts from the town boasting about the main attractions of this town: the castle and the pub.

As the taxi drives up the Main Street of the small town, Steve mulls over the plan they made together.

The pub seemed to be connected to an inn, or so the pictures seemed to show, so that is the place Steve plans to start. He will book a room, hopefully, for a week to start. That should be enough time to find his way to the castle Hopper had always talked about and see if any seeds of inspiration could bloom.

Maybe he will even sneak upstairs and find the carving of his name that his dad had always hosted about. Might even take a picture or two for his next book to remember why he is writing in the first place.

His taxi slows to a stop outside a picturesque building. It’s got light stone walls and dark wood posts framing the door and windows. It matches the rolling hills of the drive out here nicely, and the weather is holding comfortably for late August. Steve might even say the inn is cute, actually does to the driver as he pays.

Steve admires the cobblestone street as he grabs his bags from the trunk, and hopes beyond hope that this place will give him the inspiration he needs to write a good book.

Both buildings share an entrance, but the pub isn’t busy at all. No, it reminds Steve more of a coffee shop than a place that serves alcohol, though it is pretty early in the day to be fully in swing he guessed.

He makes eye contact with a redheaded girl around Dustin’s age sitting with a mismatched group of other patrons in the seating area of the pub who Steve can tell recognizes him. She immediately turns back to her group, surly telling them who she thinks she just saw.

Maybe he should get the confrontation over with quickly, he thinks. Just get yelled out of the small town for being a “shit author” and let the gossip of some pseudo-famous person trying to invade the town spread from there. Or, hopefully, she’ll just want a picture.

But before any of that, Steve thinks he should get a place to sleep. So he heads left into the inn instead.

He finds the front desk unmanned, but there is a little golden bell set on it. It has a well-written note taped to it saying

ring me for service

, so he does just that.

“Welcome in! I’ll be out in one sec!” calls a chipper voice from the pub behind him.

The direction the voice comes from makes him cringe, but Steve hasn’t come all this way to leave based on being a public figure.

So he waits.

A girl with short reddish brown hair rushes past him and wiggles the mouse to wake the clearly old computer up.

“Alright,” the woman, Robin or so her name tag implies, says without looking up, “Welcome to the Hawkins Inn! How can I hel- Oh my god!”

Of course,

Steve cringes to himself as Robin looks up at him for the first time. He sees the flash of recognition in her eyes. He should have known.

“You

are

S.M. Harrington, aren't you! I mean Max was saying she saw you walk in but she likes to lie a lot. I mean, like, not in a bad way—”

Here we go again,

Steve thinks as he starts to gloss over while Robin rants,

Another person who has him captive waiting to tell him how much they hate his choices and what he’s done to Kendra and Scott. A whole group of them, if she was sitting with that redheaded girl. There goes the short-lived dream of a peaceful retreat.

“- likes to make fun of us for the stuff we like and— Oh I’m so sorry,” Steve tunes back in as she shakes her head as if to dispel the train of thought she had been on. “I, like, absolutely adore your books! We all do! We even form a little book club kind of thing where we read your new releases together and chat and make predictions and everything. Between you and me,” she leans across the counter to faux whisper to him, “I think Kendra got what was coming to her.” She winks and leans back.

“Alright, what can I do for you, darling? Are you here to write your next story? Oh please tell me you are! That would be so cool!”

“Oh, um, thank you?” Steve smiles, a little bit confused but thankful for the less hostile conversation than he was bracing for. Maybe this trip won’t be so bad after all. “Yeah, I am actually. Or at least, I’m here to try. You wouldn’t happen to have an open room for the next week or so, would you?”

Robin quirks an eyebrow and says, “For my favorite author? Of course we do! I’ll put you up in our best, no problem,” before setting right to work booking him a room.

He gets placed in room 28, or “The Green Room” as she calls it, and it’s perfect. He sets his few bags down just inside the door and takes the room in.

As the name suggests, most of the room is painted in a deep emerald green, save for the accents of dark wood in the many window frames. The blankets and pillows on the bed and in the couch are green, though lighter than that of the walls. The bed frame and the desk are made of matching wood to the windows, but somehow it all ties together really beautifully. Light from the open windows seeps in beautifully, and Steve can’t think of a better place to write from.

Instead of unpacking or giving into his jet lagged desire to fall face first into the bed, Steve decides to head back to the pub. He knows the later he can stay awake the easier it will be to get onto Scottish time. He forces himself to power though, no matter how inviting the bed looks.

Steve rifles through his carry on until his hand hits leather, grabbing his trusty notebook. You never can be too careful about when inspiration will strike, and he prefers physically writing these ideas down instead of typing them into his notes app.

He shoves the notebook in his back pocket and descends the large staircase to the main floor.  Back to where he came from. Hopefully one of the people in the pub will know where the castle he is talking about is.

The pub itself is cozy. Mismatched couches and chairs litter the small amount of floor space, blankets and pillows piled on each one. There is a little wooden bar on the back wall across from the entrance alcove, made of the same dark wood as his windowsills and bed it seems. It sits six people at most, though most of the patrons seem to be sitting in the comfy seats in front of him.

The first person Steve sees, again, is the young redhead. She’s intimidating in only the way a teenager can be. Her stare alerts Robin to his presence yet again, but this time he is waved over and offered a seat on one of the couches. As he looks around at the five new people surrounding him, Steve can see that same glimmer of recognition in their eyes, though other than the redhead they seem to not hate him too much yet.

Robin takes the opportunity to introduce him to the others. She starts with Nancy, who is sitting on the arm of the couch right next to Robin. She is well dressed and is apparently the head journalist for and runs the Hawkins post. Steve makes a note to chat about writing with her later. It would be interesting to learn about journalistic writing a bit.

Next in Robin's introductions is Jonathan, who makes a point to tell Steve to call him Jon. Jon works with Nancy as the photojournalist and is sharing a way too small chair with Argyle, who is the bartender at this pub.

While Jon talks pleasantries with Steve, Argyle takes the time to look him over. Eventually, he nods, standing up to go behind the bar. It makes Steve quirk an eyebrow which Jonathan is quick to catch.

“He's making you a drink. We've got this game, basically, where he tries to distill every first meeting into some kind of cocktail for the person. He does this with all the newcomers, and he hasn’t gotten one wrong yet. You’ll love it,” He assures

“You don’t have a choice,” the redhead pipes up, “We’ll stare you down until you drink every last drop. We can’t risk hurting Argy’s feelings, now can we?” She says with a sardonic smile turned towards Jon.

Finally, Robin points towards the redhead and introduces her as Max. She’s the youngest of the bunch and grew up friends with Nancy and Jonathan’s younger siblings, apparently, but ever since she turned old enough to drink she prefers to hang out in the pub with the adults.

Argyle comes back with a frothy orange and pink drink in a fancy-looking glass and hands it to Steve without so much as a word before sitting right back in Jonathan’s lap. Whatever it is, it is honestly the best drink Steve has ever had, which he tells them all outright. It’s met with a nod from Argyle and general excitement from the rest of the group.

They fall into easy conversation after that. Steve is accepted and welcomed into the conversation without a second thought, and it warms his heart a bit.

Just as Steve suspected, they all know who he is, but contrary to his hypothesis earlier, they seem to have actually

liked

his last book. Liked all of his books.

But most importantly in Steve’s humble opinion, they talk to him like a human being. And that… He sort of glazes over as the others keep talking, watching the conversation and drinking his incredible drink. It’s surprisingly new and nice to be talked to like this again, and he didn’t know he missed it.

He zones back in as Nancy turns back to face him. “If you need an introduction to the town or even just directions somewhere, we’re here,” She offers, “We’d love to help.”

Max grumbles from her chair, but agrees nonetheless.

The mention of directions reminds Steve of why he even came back down here in the first place.

“Actually…” he starts, “I’m really here to see a castle? My dad grew up around here and I wanted to see it, maybe get some inspiration.”

He scratches the back of his neck, sheepish at not having more information to go off of as he asks, but he pushes through. “He said he grew up here in Hawkins, any chance there’s a castle in the city limits?”

Robin, Nancy, Argyle, Jonathan, and Max all start talking and arguing over each other, trying to figure out what Steve is talking about with what little information he has. Eventually, they do point him towards the castle that seems to match his dads descriptions, and Steve feels a spark of hope for this place.

Steve learns that there is one taxi in the town from Max, and he gets Robin's help to book it for the next morning out to the castle. She says the castle opens for tours at about 8:30 every morning, and while it might be inconsistently running, the tour guide is amazing. She says it with such admiration that Steve can almost see the hearts in her eyes.

That's how he made it this far this early, the morning dew is barely burnt off as his ride pulls to a stop at the front of a gigantic stone front building. Apparently, Hop wasn’t exaggerating the

castle

part of growing up in a castle.

He is met with the sight of a peppy blonde woman standing beside the big wooden front doors that are more than double her height. She looks like she might even be waiting for him, and the wave she sends his way from the hand not holding a clipboard as he exits the taxi supports that assumption.

“Hi!” The woman says with a bright smile and holding out a hand for a handshake. It’s firm and cordial, like she’s a professional business woman. It almost counteracts her appearance, which skews more cheerleader than business professional, but you can’t judge a book by its cover.

“You must be Steve? I’m Chrissy! Robin called and told me you might be over this morning and were looking for a tour of the castle and the grounds. It’s not often we give private tours, but you come highly recommended by the innkeeper, so I would be happy to show you around this morning!”

Steve gets a tour of the castle and grounds from Chrissy, and feels… at home? There’s a comfort in the air of this building that Steve can’t really place a finger on. Maybe it’s the connection to family, to his dad getting to him, but it’s nice to see somewhere Hopper used to be.

The comfort and the company doesn’t stop him from sneaking up stairs at one point, though.

Years ago, Hopper had told a younger him and a baby Dustin the story of starting to carve his name into one of the upstairs door frames of the castle, just so that in the future people knew that he had been there. He was young when he had done it, probably no older than 11, but Steve’s dad had explained that one day he wanted to bring his kid back to the castle and see the mark he left on the place.

The upper levels of the castle seem to be under construction or maybe just in general disarray. Steve hopes that the frame his dad carved into is still there.

He stops at every doorway and searches high and low to find even a single mark that resembles an H or a J with no luck. That is, until he comes upon the door to the groundskeeper's apartment. The door itself is ajar, and Steve can’t help but sneak a peek.

It seems like the most likely place, right?

There’s a small loft type apartment behind the door as Steve opens it more to check the frame. He’s met with the sight of more stone and wood, as well as a startled man wearing nothing but a towel, his dark curls dripping wet having seemingly just stepped out of the shower.

“What the fuck?” says the man, rightfully so, as Steve covers his eyes and turns his back on the man. As much as he wants to leave, Steve still

needs

to check and see if Hopper's carving is on the door.

“Oh my god I’m so sorry!” Steve starts apologizing immediately while the man keeps chewing him out.

“Wh- who are you? How did you even get access to this area? Also, and more importantly, why would you ever, like

ever,

just open a random door?? Yo—”

“My dad— He— I’m looking for—” Steve starts and stops a few times, trying to find the best words to explain what he was doing, but the man doesn’t let him get far.

“What?” He cries, “What the ever-loving fuck could you be looking for in my home?”

“Let me…” Steve says, uncovering his eyes and searching the doorframe. And just like he had hoped, it’s there. “This.”

There are a few small notches on the inside of the door that essentially gets hidden by the rest of the wood as the door closes. No one would ever see it if they weren’t looking for it. The letters crudely spell out h-o-p and there is another line that probably means his dad was caught in the act and stopped mid second p.

Steve hears the random, but honestly kind of really hot if he is honest, man scoot close behind him, trying to see what Steve is pointing at.

“My family worked here years ago, I believe,” Steve explains, “My dad said he carved his name into a door of this castle while growing up and I… wanted to see it?”

Steve looks over his shoulder as the man leans forwards to touch the carving. A few drops of water from the ends of the man’s hair drop onto Steve’s shoulder, but the look of confusion on the man’s face pulls his attention more.

“I’ve never noticed that,” he says with what sounds like wonder in his voice, slightly turning to meet Steve’s eyes. The golden brown and the wonder swirling in them is mesmerizing. He almost forgets where he is in favor of swimming in them forever.

But the man stands back up quickly, pushing Steve by the shoulder back out the door. His face turns from curiosity to anger pretty quickly again, which Steve still can’t totally fault him for.

“That is still not even close enough to a good reason to break and enter, big boy. This area is off limits to visitors.”

He pushes Steve’s shoulder again, telling him to “get out”, before turning on his heel still holding his towel up and shutting the door.

Steve runs a distressed hand down his face, but does as he’s told. He finds Chrissy pacing the foyer, typing furiously on her phone. She visibly relaxes at the sight of him stomping down the stairs.

“Where did you— You know what. I don’t really care,” she tells him. “I’m just happy you’re not dead out on the grounds somewhere. We don’t need anything else to worry about right now.”

He apologizes for giving her the slip and tries his best to politely ask her to call the taxi back. It feels harder than it probably looks to hold back his confusion and unwarranted anger at that man, but he’s grown a good public persona since being in the public eye.

The two stand on the steps of the castle to wait for the taxi, and Chrissy seems as huffy and confused as Steve feels. She hasn’t stopped texting or typing or writing on her clipboard once, but she somehow is able to hold a good conversation with him still.

As they wait, Chrissy lets it slip that she knows his books and loves them as well. That’s why she was so worried about him being lost, or so she says. Steve makes sure to apologize at least six more times for the disappearance before the taxi comes.

She also lets it slip that she may be in need of a new job, and jokes with him about letting her know if he needs a new assistant anytime soon. She says it with a laugh, but Steve can sense some reality behind the joke. And, as per usual, Steve can’t leave well enough alone. He prods a little more about what she might mean.

Chrissy seems to trust him enough to vent about it all to him while they wait. Apparently, the castle (aptly named Castle Hawkins, he learned earlier on the tour) is going through some hard times. With all of the repairs and maintenance that the acres of land and the castle itself need, it’s becoming too expensive for the owner to keep it open to the public.

“And if we can’t find someone to help us pay to keep it open, as well as find a way to keep bringing in money, soon, the country is gonna take possession of the castle and the town! They'll probably bulldoze it all for factories or something.”

Chrissy sounds genuinely distressed at the thought of losing the castle and all its history. It strikes a chord within him, the thought of losing something that you so deeply love.

That must be why, on a whim, Steve offers to help.

His family has history here, and living in a castle sounds like an amazing adventure that could spark some more ideas. Maybe if he's here for long enough, he can bring Dustin and Hopper out for a little family vacation.

And honestly, what an even better place to write his book from?  He could base it in the castle, pestering Chrissy for insight on the layout and how it runs. The ideas are sparking themselves already.

Without a thought about the money or the move, Steve offers himself to save the castle. Chrissy, who truly was just venting to the closest person about the stress of her job, lights up at the prospect of selling the place to him.

“If you’re serious about this, you have to come back tomorrow!” Chrissy cries, “Oh, this is perfect! You would have to talk to the current owner and groundskeeper to get approval and then I can do the rest! He’s a bit of a hard ass and super intimidating when he wants to be, but he loves this place so I’m sure I can talk him into being reasonable!” She claps her hands, and with pep and excitement really does make her look like a cheerleader.

Steve waves a goodbye to her from the backseat of the taxi with plans already forming for the following morning.

He spends the evening in the pub with his new friends, ribbing Robin on her clear crush on Chrissy and judging the other patrons with Max.

They are all more than excited at the idea of Steve staying in town longer than expected, having formed a tentative friendship in only two days. Upon learning about his prospective castle ownership, Jon even volunteers himself and the rest of the group for cleaning up or fixing duties on the weekends.

Their closeness has grown faster and more real than any friendship Steve had back home and it makes him warm and fuzzy inside. Or maybe that’s just the sunset color drinks Argyle keeps handing him talking. Steve slips into the green bed more optimistic for his near future than he has in a while. 
 
—
 
Steve keeps his word to Chrissy and has Robin call the taxi that morning bright and early. It’s dewy and cold again, but the Taxi is warm and the view out the window is somehow more beautiful than the day before.

He is met with the same image as yesterday as the taxi approaches the castle, a bright and shiny Chrissy beckoning him, though she’s at the bottom of the stairs this time. He hears a shot from a gun ring out and jumps, but Chrissy doesn’t seem fazed. Before he can even begin to ask, Chrissy is talking.

“Steve! Hi! Eddie is out in the fields this morning practicing his shooting, so don’t be alarmed at the sounds.”

Well, that explains that.

“We’re gonna go meet him now actually. He’s usually the nicest this early, it’s before I’ve told him what needs fixing and what will cost us money today,” she giggles, turning away to walk into the grass. Steve falls in step bedside her, chatting aimlessly about nothing as they walk farther and farther into the hills around the castle.

Another shot rings out as they reach the top of a small hill that was hiding the groundskeeper, Eddie apparently. Chrissy points him out, but Steve recognizes the curly hair immediately.

This is the man he met upstairs yesterday. The hot one in just a towel that Steve barged in on.

Fuck.

But it’s no matter, Steve has made up his mind. He’s saving this castle no matter how much it costs, even if it’s only for Hopper. Sure, he will be embarrassed and apologize a few more times than necessary, but the man wasn’t cruel yesterday so Steve has no reason to go as stiff as he does at the thought of talking to him again.

He watches as Eddie clicks a button on the machine next to him which shoots what looks like a frisbee into the air. He raises his shotgun and shatters the frisbee with what looks to Steve like perfect aim. And then he does it again. It’s kind of hot, if he’s honest.

Eddie himself is wearing big headphones, likely to block out some of the noise from the gun firing, but it makes getting his attention slightly more difficult. Chrissy bends down and grabs a pebble which she promptly throws at him before he reloads. Eddie turns around with a big smile aimed right at Chrissy. He hasn’t noticed that Steve is with her yet.

“Christine! My love, the light of my life, the only reason anything gets done around here! It’s a little early to be seeing you this morning, to what do I owe the pleasure of your company?”

He’s much more relaxed than the last time Steve met him, probably on account of being fully dressed. He seems at ease, funny even. Like this is how he normally communicates, with exaggerations and a smile.

Chrissy gestures to Steve as her way of answering him, and Eddie swoops his gaze to Steve. Immediately, his demeanor shifts hostile. He puffs up like a cat ready to fight, ready to protect what’s ‘his’. Again, it’s probably warranted, but it’s not by any means fun to be on the receiving end of.

Especially, Steve thinks, as he is here to buy what seems to be Eddie’s home from him.

While Steve is processing and analyzing Eddie’s every move, Chrissy explains why they are here. Steve lets her, more than happy to stay quiet. He watches and listens as Chrissy lays out the facts and eventually tells Eddie that Steve offered to buy out their debt.

“No.”

“Eddie… what?”

That brings Steve back to the present. He tries his best to not be disappointed with the idea of hostile coexistence, because Steve knows for sure he’s not leaving until the castle is safe.

“I said no,” Eddie repeats, keeping his eyes on Chrissy. “Not to

him

.”

Ah, so they must have had a chat after Steve left yesterday. Of course they had, Steve did the same thing with his new friends last night, but for some reason it’s disheartening to know Eddie

and

Chrissy know about the whole scene.

“Eddie, it's been years of barely scraping by to keep this place. We’ve worked to the bone every single year to get to the place we are and it hasn’t been enough.” Chrissy pleads, trying to stay quiet enough to keep Steve out of the conversation. Eddie isn't so kind.

“He can help. Let him help.”

Steve watches as Eddie closes eyes and takes a deep, slow breath. And then… He turns to Steve, meeting his eyes with less disgust and a little more challenge than before.

“$500,000,” Eddie says eventually. “That’s the minimum we need right now to keep afloat, so it’s got to be upfront. Plus, it will only cost you more and more the longer you’re here. It’s a pretty steep price big boy, you sure you’re able to foot the bill?”

He’s over paying, Steve knows that in the back of his mind. Surely Eddie is floating him an absurd amount to try and get Steve to leave, but he doesn’t really care. Steve tilts his head and meets the challenge in Eddie’s eyes head on.

“Yep, I’m sure.”

It's the first words he’s spoken to Eddie today, and it’s met with an eye roll but also a small smirk. Eddie turns back to his slingshot machine and effectively dismisses them so he can go back to his shooting. He does wait until they are a safe distance away to start again, though.

With only a little paperwork read and signed in Chrissy’s office and a call to his bank (as well as Dustin) back home, Steve is officially the owner of a castle in Scotland.

He lives here now.

With Eddie.

… And Chrissy of course. It seems like she’s here all the time. But mostly with Eddie.

His next book is going to be an interesting one, that’s for sure. 
 
—
 
Steve wakes up the next morning to millions of texts and missed phone calls, which isn’t out of the ordinary. The thing is, he hadn’t done much the last few days so he’s not terribly sure what it could all be about.

He checks his texts from Dustin first. His kid always makes sure to keep Steve updated on what the tabloids are saying about him.

Mid Life Crisis Continues for Controversial Author?

Sources share that post divorce, author S.H Harrington has put an offer in and just as quickly bought a castle in the north of Scotland yesterday. We are unsure what that means for family life and how this affects ex-wife…

The link Dustin sent, along with the

sorry :/

text bubble below it, tells Steve all he needs to know.

Love you bub

is what Steve sends back, along with confirmation of their video chat for later in the day. Well, later in the day for Steve at least. It should be closer to morning for Dustin with time zones being all screwy. He gets back a

yep

, and Steve finally gets himself out of bed to deal with the repercussions of buying a castle.

He calls his publisher, who’s honestly just excited about a new place for Steve to write, and his PR manager, who is significantly less thrilled because of the fallout it’s causing for her. But overall it’s not too bad. She tells him to lay low, which he can now do in the Hawkins Castle, and to not make any more news-worthy moves without at least informing her first. It’s the least terrible lashing he’s gotten, but also it feels like the least notable thing he’s done in the recent years.

Whatever.

Packing his bags from the Inn takes almost no time at all, and for the third day in a row Steve is the only taxi's first ride of the day.

Chrissy is there again, waving him inside, this time with an accompanying Eddie dressed in dark ripped jeans and a plaid flannel by her side. He does not seem to want to be there at all if his crossed arms and sour expression are anything to go by.

Between the three of them it only takes one trip from the car to the foyer with Steve’s bags, even with Eddie grabbing only Steve’s backpack.

And that’s how it is between Steve and Eddie the rest of the day. Really, they just don’t get along. They butt heads about every little thing from where Steve is allowed to step foot in the castle to when he is allowed to eat breakfast in the main kitchen. Chrissy fights for him, but every syllable spoken sparks anger and hatred in Steve’s gut.

Eddie stubbornly keeps saying that Steve doesn’t belong here.

Steve can’t help but return the grating sentiment.

Eventually Chrissy has to go guide a tour, leaving Eddie to show Steve to his bedroom. It’s a silent walk up the stairs that lead to where Steve and Eddie first met.

No matter how much Steve thinks he maybe should actually apologize, he can’t bring himself to say a word as they pass the door where Hopper's signature is carved.

Eddie leads him right past it and up another flight of stairs. When they do come to stop outside a door, it’s after trenching through cobwebs and deserted drop cloths.

Clearly no one has been up here in years.

Eddie opens the door, placing the bag he ended up grabbing from Chrissy and the one he took from the car just past the entry to prop it open. He gestures for Steve to enter, bowing as he shuffles past.

The room is cold. Like, somehow colder than it was outside when he got here. Steve can all but see his breath, and he certainly can see the dust covering the few surfaces in the room.

There is a wooden bed frame with a very old mattress and one single tiny desk under the two windows in the room. They are both covered with drop cloths and are the only two things in the room.

Steve sets his other bags down in the center of the room and turns back to face Eddie. The man is leaning, arms crossed, against the doorframe, sizing Steve up with his eyes.

“You’re locking me away in a tower, huh?” He says, meeting Eddie’s eyes head on.

“If that’s what you want to call it, Princess, then I won’t stop you. And this place was built before centralized heating,” Eddie says with a shrug, unwilling to step even one foot past the door.

“There’s not even any proper furniture asshole, where am I supposed to put my clothes?”

It’s a little prickly, the way Steve asks, but he’s almost at his wits end with Eddie today. Sue him if he snaps a little. But it’s a genuine question too, he needs a closet or at least a dresser to put his clothes in while he lives here and Eddie knows where things are, so…

“Hey, you’re the one who bought the place. If you can’t live here, that's not on me. Figure it out.”

Steve looks up at the ceiling and fights the urge to yell

You’re the one who needs me!!

at the top of his lungs at Eddie. It’s hard to push the frustration down, but he thinks about who this is for.

He thinks of Dustin, who sounded

so

excited to visit the castle sometime in the future. He thinks of his dad, who called him after the joint call where Steve told them his plan with a thank you for saving his favorite place. He thinks of Chrissy, who never for a second pushed Steve to donate even when she knew he had money.

Those people, plus his new friends back at the inn and pub, are enough to get Steve to take a deep breath and carry on. He turns back to his bags before he starts talking, if only to look busy.

“I’ll need at least two pillows and a few blankets and comforters.” If Eddie thinks he’s spoiled, he might as well lean into it. “Then you’re dismissed from your royal duties for the day,” Steve says with a wave of his hand over his shoulder.

And with that, he pulls the sheet off of the bed to assess his sleeping situation, not giving Eddie another glance.

Steve spends his afternoon dusting and cleaning the room as best he can.

The walls in Steve's tower room are draped with the same fabrics found over the furniture, so that seems like the perfect place to start redecorating from. As he is taking them down, which is honestly easy as the fabric is old and brittle and only tacked in with finishing nails, he finds a closet and a fireplace hidden behind them.

He sends a thanks to whatever god is watching him right now, because that fireplace will be a lifesaver for keeping warm in the next few months. The closet has no hangers or place to hang things, so it's more of a cutout than anything else, but it’s a nice and easy project for the future. Right now though, Steve just lines his bags up in it and calls his unpacking good.

After that, there is not much else he can do with what is already in the room, so he sets out to search the few other rooms on the floor. Steve finds a bathroom, though it may or may not have water access and he makes a note to ask Chrissy about it later, as well as two other bedrooms with similar setups to the one he is in now. Just to make his room seem slightly more inviting, Steve steals the two other desks for nightstands. It will probably help to have more places to set things down in the large empty space that he has been given.

And then, he's done everything he can do today.

And it's only been about an hour.

Ugh.

Not sure what to do with the rest of his time until his video call with Dustin, Steve heads back to the main floor of the castle. He sort of feels a need to prove himself a bit, be it to Chrissy or Eddie or his readers or maybe the world, so he starts what he came to do. He learns.

After grabbing a quick lunch of a protein bar and an apple from the kitchen, Steve searches for Chrissy. He spends the day following her on every tour of the castle, learning and relearning the ins and outs of tour guiding and of this place. The reminders start to stick in his brain around the third or fourth tour, and by 3 pm he is joining Chrissy at the front of the group. She helps him through the speeches and encourages him to take the lead.

Eventually, she falls back, trusting him enough with the tour. That, or the things on her clipboard are that much more pressing than the words Steve is sharing. Whichever it is, it makes a small amount of pride bloom in his chest.

Eddie is a ghost, barely seen more than in passing and Steve tries to pay him no mind. Eddie seems to be doing the same, giving Steve no more than a passing glare.

A few tours later, Steve bids Chrissy adieu to figure out the logistics of calling with Dustin in the walls of the castle.

Except… he can’t get his computer to connect to the call. Can’t even log in, as the webpage isn’t loading. He didn’t think to check earlier, of course he didn’t, but Steve is finding the connection in his tower spotty at best, and there is no way he can chat with Dustin in his room.

He won’t be able to write in here either, he thinks somewhere in the back of his brain, but that’s an issue for Later Steve to worry about. Now Steve needs to find somewhere with connection.

Chrissy’s office is on the main floor, and her computer works. Steve remembers that from buying this place. Step one: get to connection. Step two can be figured out there.

He grabs his computer and phone and rushes down the stairs, barreling directly into Eddie on the second floor landing. He stumbles backwards almost slipping on the polished stone flooring, and Eddie reaches out to steady him.

“Shit! Oh my god I’m so sorry!” Steve apologizes to the man, trying to shake the frantic energy from his head. “I’ve got a call and the room you put me in has like, no connection and I’ve just— I can’t miss this. I’ve got to g—”

“Woah, woah, slow down,” Eddie says in a soft, comforting voice. It works better than Steve wants to admit at calming him down.

Eddie keeps the comforting voice, “Take a breath with me ok? In… out…”

Again, his instruction helps level himself out enough to get back on track. “Do you, like, have an empty bench or hallway I can call from that’s out of the way of the tours?? I don’t want to be a burden or in the way of anything.”

Eddie stares at him for a few seconds, slight confusion flickering in his face. And then he turns away from Steve.

Yeah we’ll fuck you too. I asked you a question ass—

“Come with me,” Eddie says, heading down the stairs and to the left. “The library should work for right now, at least until we can clean out an office for you.”

Oh.

“Oh,” Steve says dumbly. “Ok.” He follows Eddie while several questions pile up in his brain.

Why didn’t I think of the library? Why are you helping me? You’re gonna clear an office out for me? Why are you being so nice?

But he knows better than to voice those thoughts to Eddie, lest he be met with more dickishness. So Steve holds his tongue, at least until he is well into his call with Dustin.

He is able to hold off for the obligatory “

How’s school?”

chat and the following stories about random classes far above Steve’s knowledge level, but just barely. All it takes is for Dustin to ask “

How is it on the other side of the Atlantic?

” for Steve to take the top off of the pent up pressure cooker that is his thoughts on Eddie.

In his defense, his complaints do start as actual complaints about the man; that he’s odd, he’s stand-off-ish, and he downright ignores Steve at most times.

But then his complaining shifts more towards compliments; that Eddie is hot and ignoring Steve. That he’s sweet, and kind, and funny with Chrissy but not with Steve and

how dare he

. It’s about the point when he starts detailing Eddie’s tattoos and lips that Dustin chimes back in.

“Ew, ew, Dad! Stop!” He yells from the other side of the computer screen, covering his ears and squeezing his eyes shut. “I don’t want to know about your hot rival! Don’t you have friends you can talk about this with? I’m your

son

!”

“He’s so not my rival!” Steve argues back, feigning offense. “He’s nice… sometimes… not to me but—”

“Nope, cutting you off right there! We are moving on! Uh, how’s the book coming? Any new chapters for me to proof and make so much better yet?”

It’s a good segue, good enough to get Steve’s mind train off of the

Eddie

track and onto the much rockier

Book

track.

He sighs. “It’s not.”

Because it isn’t. Steve has not only not had much time to write, but he’s found almost no inspiration past

castle

and… nope that’s about it. Castle.

“I’m only, like, a third of the way into the plan. So far all I’ve got is a bullet point that says

Castle

. I don’t even have a place, just ‘far away’.”

He runs a hand through his hair as he talks.

“Be honest, you have to be I raised you, should I just give up? Quit and fade quietly into obscurity? Focus all my energy on your life?”

“Oh, please the fuck no!” Dustin’s blatant disgust at the idea of Steve being even more involved in his life at least brings a smile to his face.

“Set the book in the castle like you said you would. You know what they say, write what you know or whatever. Make your hot groundskeeper rival guy the villain or something, I don’t know. Just

write

.”

“You’re my favorite son. I love you.” Steve says as Dustin takes a tiny pause. His kid smiles back at him, a few thousand miles away.

“I'm your only son! And it always helps you to start, you’ll have another best seller in no time dad. I know you. I love you too. You’ve got this.”

Steve asks Dustin to do some more research on the castle's history for him to report back on next time they can video call. Dustin tells him to write a chapter and send it to him before he agrees. With a digital handshake, Steve agrees to his son's terms, and they spend the rest of the evening chatting about Dustin’s soon-to-be friends in his classes and Steve’s kind-of-already friends from the pub.

By the time Steve is back in his tower room, someone has not only brought a few blankets and pillows for him, but a rather fancy looking dresser as well. It’s shoved in the indent where the closet would be, and his clothes are all folded in the drawers for him.

Steve pretends not to notice how fuzzy that makes him feel as he adds a bullet point into his draft plan for a mysterious and grumpy curly headed character.
 
—
 
For the rest of the week, Steve spends his time split between unwittingly writing in the library, helping Chrissy with the ever growing amount of tours (which he suspects has something to do with the articles announcing that he bought the place), coldly passing by Eddie, and bringing the tower back to life.

Oh, and the video calls with Dustin that are sprinkled in there as well. One call caught Eddie sneaking through the library with a basket of blankets before he quickly snuck back out again. Steve didn’t give it a second thought, but when the library door closed again Dustin certainly did not pass up the opportunity to pry with a smug smile. He stops in the middle of recounting the basketball game his new friend Lucas from school played in to tease him.

“Oh! So

that's

Theodore’s inspiration, yeah?” he joked.

Steve gave the most convincing laugh and shake of his head that he could.

“Nope. What makes you say that?”

“Sure Dad, whatever you say,” Dustin sing-songed before jumping right back into his story about Lucas's buzzer beater.

The pub group shows up early Saturday morning. Steve called the cab for himself the night before, which was a feat in itself. He had missed the noise of having friends, and was promptly informed that he was getting visitors the following morning.

The group drove over in two cars, Nancy’s small little Jetta and Argyle's camper van. Nancy seemed to be carrying most of the human cargo, including a grumpy Max in the front seat, while Steve was soon to learn that Argyle was toting surprise furniture.

“You can’t be mad,” Robin calls him, tumbling out of the back seat of Nancy’s car. “Jonathan’s mom was going to donate it all and we knew you probably needed it so Argy packed up his van and—”

She stops mid word vomit and goes bright red as Chrissy pokes her head out of the big front doors.

Of course,

Steve thinks. He’s teased Robin enough times about her crush on Chrissy to know it is actually there, so he just shakes his head fondly and tells them all thank you for coming.

Everyone else had started unpacking while Robin distracted Steve, so he had no time to argue back, but he is not one to look a gift horse in the mouth so he accepts the free furniture thankfully. It’s early enough that Eddie is still out doing target practice, or whatever his weekend free time consists of, so he isn’t hiding behind Chrissy trying to look disinterested as they bring the furniture (and decorations too?) into the castle.

The trips up and down the flights of stairs are hard enough on their own, and maneuvering furniture up them makes it even more difficult. It’s especially hard with Max refusing to do any manual labor on the weekend, but between the rest of them it turns out to be quick work.

Though, the rearranging and fixing is deterred by an impromptu dance party initiated by Max’s ringtone and Chrissy’s need for everyone to have a smile on their face. She twirls Max into some semblance of a waltz that has both of them giggling furiously.

That is how they end up taking turns playing music and dancing between the upstairs rooms for an hour or so before any work is actually started. They laugh and spin around each other. It’s such childish fun, Steve can’t help but think. He never got that as a kid, forced to grow up so soon by peers and having a kid so young himself that he never got to enjoy the rambunctiousness of being a teenager. It’s nice in a way that Steve has really only felt since being here in Scotland.

He understands why his dad loves this place so much, even in memory.

Chrissy and Robin peel off, after dancing together, to work on getting water to the tower’s bathroom. They are the only two with plumbing experience, but Steve thinks they might have chosen to work together in any circumstance. Steve divides the rest of them between the bedrooms before anyone else volunteers to help the two. Maybe some alone time solving problems will push Robin into actually making a move. He can only hope, for both of their sakes.

Steve settles on sticking Nancy and Argyle in the far room and Max and Jon in the closer one. He really hopes the differences in stylistic choices will balance eachother out. That leaves him alone to decorate his own room, but being the only one who actually has to live in his room after, he thinks it’s fine.

Their first action is to divide the old and new furniture between the three rooms. Ms. Byers has donated another dresser, a wardrobe, a much bigger desk with a matching chair, and a small cushioned bench. That, plus the three beds and the three desks, should leave each room with a good amount of stuff and a much less empty feeling.

Nancy claims back one of the desks back from Steve’s room as well as the wardrobe for her room while Jon chooses the dresser and the larger desk.

That leaves Steve with his two desk nightstands, the little bench, and a dresser. The dresser Eddie moved in here for him. Chrissy, while she didn’t

say

anything, had made a confused and surprised noise when she saw the dresser in his room. Steve was too afraid to ask what that noise ment, opting instead to hope it meant something good.

With the furniture much more evenly distributed, they can move onto decorating.

They, or more aptly

Max

and

Argyle

, decide to make it a challenge. It will be fun to make this into a game, so Steve agrees. Plus, he knows that if he truly hates anything he will just move it once they are gone. They dump what minimal decorations Steve has collected as well as what was brought into the middle of the hallway.

“The rules are as follows,” Argyle starts, “1) You can only grab one item per room at a time until it’s placed in a permanent home. 2) Each and every item will go into these rooms, so be warned. You have to find a spot for whatever you are left with. 3) Judging will be done by Chrissy and Robin. Pandering is encouraged and enjoyed. Let that sway your design how you will.”

“On the count of three, let the competition begin. Three!” Argyle yells as each group bolts forward and away with a piece of decor in their hands.

Their music is loud and their laughter is louder as they dart in and out of their respective rooms grabbing new decorations from the dwindling pile in the hallway. It’s so loud, actually, that almost no one seems to notice Eddie leaning against the staircase watching them mess around.

Almost.

As Steve runs out to grab a new item, having hung a surprisingly well done drawing signed

Will

in the bottom corner, the two make eye contact. Steve stops for a moment, stuck in the gaze of Eddie’s eyes. His trance is broken by Eddie tilting his head in question at the scene set before them. It makes Steve shoot him a wide smile and wave him over.

This is new, the easy communication, but he barely has time to question anything as Max shoots out of her and Jon’s room to grab the little golden bat paperweight that he had his eye on. “Hey!” he calls out at her.

“You snooze, you lose old man, get to it!” She taunts, darting back into her room.

Steve looks back to Eddie and shrugs. “She’s competitive, apparently.”

Eddie, still standing by the stairs, huffs out a quiet laugh. He’s looking significantly more intrigued than before, and his bemused smile has Steve speaking up again. “Hey, we’re down a man and apparently I’m losing. Wanna make yourself useful and help me?”

Eddie shakes his head no, staying solid in his place leaning against the banister. It doesn’t deter Steve.

“C’mon, I can't lose because everyone else has a teammate and I’m here all alone,” Steve pouts, and that seems to do the trick.

“What the hell,” Eddie concedes, grabbing a few rubber banded together candlesticks as he makes his way to Steve. “We can’t have you lose due to unfair circumstances, now can we?”

It might not actually be faster decorating with two people, but Steve certainly feels like it’s more fun. Especially without having to be the one to run out to the hallway every time. Eddie jumps right in, holding up posters while Steve sticks them to the wall and picking out things that mostly match the theme he had been going for.

Somehow Eddie even gets control of the music. He ends up playing something that Steve dubs pretty awful and unnecessarily loud, but Eddie’s smile widens when he hears Max and Chrissy cheer from the other rooms, so he lets it play.

The two bicker about decor and picture placements the whole time, but it feels light hearted and teasing in a way their arguing didn’t before. Eddie’s jabs make Steve laugh and when Steve jabs back Eddie smiles. It’s fun and friendly and Steve makes a mental note to make Theodore a little bit nicer than he has been writing him.

Before Steve is ready, the pile in the hallway is gone and their competition has ended. Chrissy and Robin have, apparently, been making good headway on the bathroom, and while it’s not quite in working condition yet, they agree to take a break to judge their work.

They watch as the judges wander their first room, Nancy and Argyle’s. Their room is clean cut but still colorful. Basically everything that had bright colors was grabbed for this room, including a bright pink and orange teddy that Steve hadn’t noticed.

There isn’t much in the room apart from furniture, this team opting for a more minimalistic look, but that doesn’t stop the color from keeping the room light. Steve has to hand it to them, they made it work pretty well for the tools they were given.

Chrissy and Robin hum and point out different bits and pieces until they feel they’ve seen enough and head down the hall. The six others follow them like little ducklings in a row down the hall to Max and Jonathan’s room.

Now this room has a very clear aesthetic. One that clearly screams the names of its designers. The room is messy in an almost artful way.

Steve opts to admire the room from the doorway this time, having fun watching the others interact with the things.

There are blankets tossed across the bed, a few dark colored band posters hung on the walls that Eddie hums at, and, worst of all, the golden bat sitting in its crowned place on the windowsill.

This team seems to have stolen extra pillows and blankets that appeared in these rooms yesterday from Nancy and Argyle’s room. The stolen goods plus their own extras are piled in the corner of the room under the window making a what seems to be comfy reading nook or something along those lines.

Steve watches Argyle flop down onto it, trying to pull Jon into his lap, as Max and Eddie watch laughing from the bed.

Their judges are still taking this seriously. They are whispering to each other, pointing around the room, even asking Max questions about the design choices and nodding along as she makes something up on the spot.

It all makes Steve smile a little wider, having these people who have become

his

people here.

Eventually they all move over to Steve and Eddie’s room.

Woah, no wait… Steve’s room, designed by Steve and Eddie. Not

their

room like tha— Okay, he’s arguing over semantics in his head again. Steve shakes his head to dispel the thoughts and focuses again on their work in front of him.

Compared to the other rooms, Steve and Eddie’s work is much warmer. It’s also much more divided on who picked out what decor from the hallway. There is the art and books picked up by Steve sitting next to the other band posters and knickknacks that Eddie grabbed, and while it’s different, it also makes for a cool room all styled together.

Steve’s proud of their work, and it seems like Chrissy is too. She keeps shooting him smiles and Eddie hidden thumbs ups like a proud teacher who put two rowdy kids in a group to make them get along.

And, Steve guesses, it worked well enough. Eddie is more… fun than he thought. Less uptight and mean. He actually really likes knowing Eddie like this. Steve catches Chrissy’s eyes and sends her a bright smile back as a thank you. She totally had a hand in Eddie giving him another, nicer, shot.

As the others look around his room, it dawns upon Steve what biased judges Robin and Chrissy are going to be. Robin is clearly just going to agree with Chrissy, and Chrissy is just going to vote for Eddie, so the point of judging is mostly moot.

Though it will be kind of nice to win something this low stakes, he thinks.

Chrissy pulls Robin into the bathroom to deliberate away from the eyes and ears of the contestants pretty quickly after entering the final room, which Steve hopes is code for

make out in the bathroom for a bit before letting Steve and Eddie win

but he can't know for sure.

He

will

ask Robin about it next time he’s at the pub though.

Like he predicted, Robin does announce that Steve and Eddie are the winners loudly and with the drama of a theater kid upon exiting the bathroom. He and Eddie cheer at this. Without thinking, Steve pulls Eddie in for a hug and… it’s nice.

To be honest the only person who has hugged him recently was Dustin before heading back to school, or maybe Hopper after the trial had reached its verdict. That was months ago now, and before those his memory is too hazy to pinpoint any hugs.

He burrows closer to Eddie, holding tight around his neck, and lets himself savor the touch. Maybe the fun and games didn’t change Eddie’s view of Steve or maybe he’s taking advantage of the moment, but he’s tired of pretending to hate the man. He never did, not really.

It’s nicer still when Eddie squeezes him back.

Steve makes himself pull back and turn away with blush dotting his cheeks, too embarrassed to see Eddie’s face. He’s not that ready to face him yet.

The loud complaints still being yelled by the others helps to pull Steve back to the present too. They each still have wide smiles on their faces, so Steve concludes that their friendships aren't too irreparably damaged by the loss, thank god.

Nancy eventually glances at her watch and dubs it late enough that they need to head out. Goodbyes are said at the front door a few minutes later with hugs from Robin and Argyle that just make Steve feel warmer. His friends pile into the two cars calling out well wishes and promises to see each other soon as they go.

Bringing the group from eight to three so quickly leaves them in an empty building made for many, many more people than are actually there. It’s sad to see it so quiet.

It’s only then that Steve notices Eddie has slipped away during the shuffle to leave. It’s just Steve and Chrissy in the entryway and that makes it just a little bit lonelier.

“Did you have any plans for dinner? I’d be more than happy to make something,” Steve offers into the air of the room. He really, desperately, does not want to go back upstairs alone.

Not yet at least.

And while it may be a little too early for a normal dinner, only around 3 pm, his stomach is realizing (yet again) that his lunch consisted of snacks throughout their excitement and no real meal.

“Oh, I couldn’t ask you to do that,” Chrissy says, though it seems much more like the posturing of someone who would really like to not make their own food, so he insists.

He’s missed cooking for people, and hasn't really gotten the chance since Dustin went off to school. So that’s what he tells her. She easily agrees after that.

The main floor kitchen is big and far out of the way from the rest of the castle. It’s a remnant from the time that this castle had royals who had many chefs cooking for them and maids to bring it to them, but the space to cook makes Steve’s heart happy.

“There should be some food around here good enough to whip something up. Go ahead and use anything,” Chrissy says with a smile.

As he starts searching the fridge and pantry for something easy, she hops up onto one of the stainless steel cooking stations and begins to tell him all about the plans they had for the castle when she and Eddie first started living here.

He finds pasta and tomato paste on the shelves and settles on a pasta bake for tonight. Maybe there’s some canned veggies he can cook up and mix in and even some mozzarella if he’s super lucky.

Eddie and Chrissy aren’t from here originally, Steve learns, which explains the lack of accents. They are childhood friends who stumbled upon this castle by accident due to Eddie’s terrible planning of their grad trip around Europe.

“The Castle needed more workers and we pretty desperately needed money if we ever wanted to make it home. But eventually we just… stayed.”

He nods along as she talks, grateful to just get to listen for a bit. She talks more about nothing and Steve chimes in with little stories here and there as he mixes green beans and chickpeas into the pasta and sauce in a ceramic dish.

Just as he’s putting the dish into the oven to bake down, Eddie joins them. He’s in comfier clothes than earlier, sweatpants and a crew neck with yet another band that Steve can’t really read the name of printed on it. Eddie pauses in the doorway when he notices them. Steve’s not sure if he knew they were down here or if he was coming to get himself some food, but either way, Steve waves him over.

“There’s enough for three,” he says, gesturing to the oven.

Stay,

he wants to ask, but it feels weird so he settles on offering a soft smile and tilt to his head as he leans against the counters across from Chrissy.

It was a day of hard work and energy well spent. With no windows in the kitchen and only the light from the one cooking station on, he feels cozy and tired.

Eddie lays across the counter with his head in Chrissy’s lap and they all talk. The dark room and the warmth from the oven lead them into one of those deep conversations that usually happen in the dead of night at sleepovers.

They spend the next 40 minutes as the pasta bake bakes chatting quietly about who they used to be. About what they wanted and what they want.

Eddie wanted to make others happy and he wants to be happy.

Chrissy wanted to feel comfortably herself and she wants that for others.

Steve wanted to love and wants to be loved.

He’s never felt more like a failure. They both succeeded years ago, Steve thinks. He lost any love that could have come from his mom when she left without a trace when he was seven months old. He couldn't keep the love from his wife, his highschool sweetheart. The first person outside his family he ever loved.

At least he’s still got Dustin and his dad, but they

have

to love him and he only sees them on his phone screen recently. He’s never felt more cut off from loving and being loved.

He feels like he’s the only one who failed.

The dinging of the oven timer brings him back to the present. Eddie hops up to grab bowls and utensils while Steve removes the hot platter from the oven with one of the hand towels. He sets it on the counter and serves each of them up a good heaping bowl full of pasta.

They eat cozy in the dark room, happy to continue chatting with lighter conversation. Steve joins them on the counter, opting to sit criss cross and leaning against one of the posts holding pots above their heads.

They sit in a neat little row, talking easily to the wall before them like it’s bouncing the conversation back at each other. Chrissy and Eddie compliment his cooking profusely.

“Honestly dude, it’s one of the best things I’ve eaten,” Eddie says through a bite of his food. “Like, ever. Sorry Chris, my love you have been dethroned as the queen of the kitchen. King Steve makes our food now.”

Hearing his only nickname from high school that he’s tried so hard to distance himself from stings a bit in Steve’s chest. Eddie couldn’t know of its history, how could he, but memories of being a much more intentionally hurtful person flood back in tidalwaves.

Has he really changed that much? Was it his need to change that drove him and Kelly apart or did he just never notice how incompatible they were?

The other two carry on with their conversation, playfully arguing like siblings, unnoticing of how Steve is stuck in his head.

Well, Chrissy is unnoticing. Eddie does nudge their shoulders together and asks him a question to bring his thoughts back from so long ago. He pretty quickly gets pulled into some sports talk with Chrissy.

He learns that she actually was a cheerleader as well as a gymnast in college, and the two bond over their gripes with doing both sports and school.

Not one for sports it seems, Eddie quietly gets up and starts to collect their bowl. Steve tries intently to listen to Chrissy explain how her championships overlapped with finals every winter, but out of the corner of his eye he watches Eddie grab the other dirty dishes Steve made while cooking and start to clean up a mess he didn’t make.

When Steve finally turns back Chrissy, he finds her watching Eddie too. She’s got a far off look that Steve doesn’t really think he’s close enough to her to ask about yet, so he chooses to let the silence be filled by the running sink instead.

“Thanks,” She says out of seemingly nowhere.

He’s a little confused, but he doesn’t want to be rude and not respond, so he questioningly says you’re welcome quietly into the air.

Chrissy turns her gaze back to Steve, and her eyes hold a slight sadness. She starts to confide in him about how truly bad the outlook of the castle and the town is.

Eddie has been cutting staff and necessities from the castle for ages, she says, to keep the debts of the town away from the pockets of the townspeople. It started two or so years after they came to Hawkins. The debts started piling up and the owners of the castle started to flee. Eddie has been doing everything short of selling the building and land to keep this place safe, but even still it’s not enough.

“Without something big, like you,” Chrissy says to Steve, “we would have had to start the process of selling the castle and using that money to pay back the debts after the new year.”

Oh.

Wow.

“So, basically what I’m trying to say is thank you. You buying this place has brought a life back to this place, to

Eddie

, that I haven’t seen in years.”

Steve turns to check on Eddie’s cleaning progress, certainly not to hide the blush dusting his cheeks. He is yawning with one hand covering his mouth and the other putting the last dish on the drying rack. Steve can’t help but think how cute he looks.

Oh.

“It’s probably late enough now to call it for the night,” she says loud enough for Eddie to hear too, but not too loud to break the quietness of the large room. “An early bedtime might actually be really nice.”

They each call a goodnight to Chrissy as she heads down the hall to her bedroom just a few doors down from the kitchen. Suddenly and for the first time in a long while, Eddie and Steve are alone together.

Actually alone.

The weight of it settles like a rock on Steve’s stomach. By the time he thinks of something to say, settling on, “Hey,” and not much more, Eddie is already a few steps in the stairs and rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“Hey Eddie,” Steve calls into the hall.

Eddie stills.

Steve catches up to him, stopping a few steps below the man he hated so few days ago but is not sure he does anymore.

They stand like that, staring at each other for what feels like an eternity. The still, silent air around them filled with tension and unasked questions.

All at once they rush together. Steve steps up and Eddie steps down until they meet on the same step. In the middle of the staircase of the castle Steve bought on a whim, they meet for a kiss that shifts his world. It lights Steve’s spine on fire and shows him exactly why Scotland had been calling him in the first place.

This, right here kissing Eddie, is where he was meant to be.

They stay like that for what could have been hours but was honestly probably just a few minutes before Eddie pulls back to yawn again. Steve just takes the time to admire his face, to really memorize the curve of his nose and the slope of his cheek.

Unable to bring himself to step out of the moment, Steve whispers, “Maybe we should get you to bed.”

Eddie smiles softly, takes Steve’s hand, and walks them up to his door.

And then they part.

Eddie goes to bed, Steve climbs the stairs to his room, and they don’t talk about it.

He goes about his nightly routine as always, sitting at his desk and plotting out new ideas for chapters and characters. He adds depth to Theodore, a backstory and a soft side he can only imagine.

Steve writes through the evening. Eventually the sun slips away with a bright sunset, taking away all the light from the room. He hadn’t even bothered to turn on a lamp before being sucked into his book, into writing Theodore.

With no light left to write by, sleep’s sweet call pulls him into bed. One worry keeps sleep away though.

What will happen to the town when I’m gone?

The thought spurs more just like it.

What if his money isn’t enough to help the town? Eventually Steve will finish his book. Eventually the money he bought this place with will be spent.

Eventually I will have to leave Eddie.

And they didn’t talk about it. The kiss, the castle, the money, any of it.

There has to be more he can do to help, he decides. He needs to do more, needs to make sure this place has a safe future. That the castle’s and the town's legacy isn’t just forgotten history.

For Hopper. For Dustin. For Chrissy.

For Eddie.

He shoots a text to Dustin asking him for anything he can find on the history of this place, anything that could raise some money specifically, and only after mentally planning the next day can sleep find Steve. 
 
—

FaceTime me when you're up, I found something!!

That is the text Steve wakes up to from Dustin the next morning.

How did Steve get so lucky as to be his dad? He thinks to himself as he sets up the call. Dustin answers immediately, as if he was waiting for Steve to call.

“A party!” Dustin says right as they connect.

“Well, hello to you too,” Steve says, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, but Dustin barrels on.

“The castle used to have these parties, some kind of celebration for each season! It looks like they stopped just a few years ago, just before the family fled the castle? It seems like they started to run out of money to host them around that time, does that sound right?” Dustin looks so excited to have found something, his eyes are bright with excitement. Plus, these parties sound like they ended around the time Chrissy and Eddie showed up. Maybe this is what the town needs to get back on track

“Dad,” Dustin brings Steve’s attention back to his phone, “You're, like, famous and rich, I bet you could get some other people with money to come. Oh oh, you could do an auction of stuff from Scotland and get those people to donate that way! Yeah, it would be perfect!”

God, he loves this kid. “God, I love you bud. Thank you, those are amazing ideas and I will be sure to give you the credit when I tell the others.”

“Love you too Dad,” Dustin says with a smile, “Ok, i have to go back to class now!”

“What! You left class! Dustin–”

“Bye!”

“-- education is important!” Steve rolls his eyes with love as the call disconnects. That kid will be the death of him, that’s for sure. He’s too smart for his own good.

Dustin is also probably right on track, maybe there is a way Steve can help save this place for good.

He finds Eddie in the stables this morning after being pointed in this direction by Chrissy. While the building may look a little worse for wear, it’s structurally sound or so she insists. There are a few horses in the stalls and one tied to a post in the hallway, which makes sense once Steve realizes Eddie is inside cleaning their stall.

It’s been a while since Steve has been around horses. The one in the hall is gorgeous, tall and the same exact shade of brown of the one he used to ride as a child, Bennie. Bennie had been a good horse, gentile with Steve in a way no one but Hopper had been back then.

He can’t help but pat Not-Bennie in the way Bennie herself had always liked as he approaches the open stall. Scratching under Not-Bennie’s chin, Steve leans on the post they are tied to and tries to catch Eddie’s eye.

What he finds is an artfully disheveled Eddie, his hair pulled up into a ponytail not dissimilar to Not-Bennies, if not a little messier. He’s leaning his body weight against a large broom, humming some song Steve doesn’t recognize, likely taking a rest from pushing around the large pile of hay in the corner of the stall.

It makes Steve smile to see him so relaxed, even while working. It reinforces the idea that he has to save this place for longer than he is here. He has to make sure Hawkens lives on for these people he's come to love.

No. Not

love

, that would be way too fast. They haven't even– He can’t– but also– no– but…

While Steve is stuck in his head, trapped in a loop, Eddie turns his head and catches him out of the corner of his eye. He jumps and whips around, settling a little when he realises just who is watching him.

Eddie closes his eyes and looks up, hand clutching his chest, and lets out a breath. “You scared me Stevie-boy! Announce yourself next time or something. You're gonna give the poor horse maid a heart attack.” The tilt of his head and slight smile make something warm flutter in Steve’s chest. “To what do I, the lowly stable boy, owe this visit from the king to?” Eddie asks.

His dramatics make Steve smile softly. Pushing off of the post and giving Not-Bennie one last pat, he starts. “My son, Dustin, he, uh, found something? Something I think could be really good for this place.”

That gets Eddie to raise an eyebrow. His eyes seem intrigued and questioning, but he gestures out the hand not holding the broom. “By all means, what did this kid find that is going to save us?” he asks, tone skeptical but not closed off. He sounds genuinely curious about what Steve and Dustin found.

“He was researching this place, and man, that kid can research like no one else,” Steve says, brushing a hand through his hair. “He found something about these parties or celebrations that the castle used to host. It sounds like they stopped after some money troubles, I’m not sure, he knows more about this than I do, but we were, you know, thinking that if those started again and we incorporated some kind of auction, the town could have some seasonal income or something.”

As Steve was speaking, Eddie's eyes kept getting wider and more excitement could be seen swirling in them.

“Steve!” he cried, “Yes!”

Eddie's excitement was palpable as he started talking and pacing the small stall, “I forgot we used to have those, they stopped really shortly after Chrissy and I started working here and I think we only ever got to go to one. The whole town showed up, it was like the biggest event the town had and everyone got dressed up and everything.”

Steve watched him as Eddie kept talking. He swung his hands through the air and pointed with the end of the broom, coming up with ideas of how and when to throw the party. Of who could donate things for an auction. Of what the money could do for the town. It’s nice to see Eddie optimistic and smiling for a change.

He looks very pretty like this, work-worn and happy.

He must have made some kind of sound, because somehow Eddie stopped talking and turned to look into Steve’s eyes as he thought that.

There was something in Steve's chest, that same warm feeling from before, as Eddie took a few determined steps closer. “Thank you,” he breathed, his breath warmer than the cool morning air in the barn. “Thank you for caring.”

And then Eddie is kissing him again. 
 
—
 
Suddenly, Steve’s day to day life changes.

He switches out his late morning wakeups in favor of joining Eddie on his target practice. He leads tours, but chooses to pass off half to Chrissy to spend the rest of his time writing. His evenings are spent with Eddie in his little apartment in the castle, cooking whatever they can find for dinner and scheming different ways to earn money to keep this place safe.

They take this time to start planning the party, or the fundraiser as Chrissy has been calling it. Eddie and Chrissy use their many, many connections to find different craftsmen and townspeople who are willing to donate something to the auction. Steve tries to leverage his sparsely used social media to dredge up some excitement for the event, even if it is a few months away. Steve even reaches out to his PR manager to try to convince some of his higher profile contacts to plan a trip to come celebrate and hopefully donate.

It may only be October, but they all have high hopes for this party.

Steve has many calls with his publisher in his minimal free time too. They are demanding a draft by Christmas, and for the first time since agreeing to write this next book that it feels attainable.

Thankfully, after sending over the chapters that he has already finished, his publisher loves the new direction of the series. They are eating up every chapter with minimal notes, more than excited about Steve’s ‘renaissance as an author’ or so they have been calling it.

The pub club loves it too, to his great relief. They are more than willing to proof his work and bounce ideas back and forth with him. Max and Nancy have been the most critical of the work, but really he thinks that they are just making him a better writer.

Dustin, on the other hand, will only proofread chapters that Steve assures him has no explicit romance. “I don’t want to read about how you are making out with the groundskeeper, Dad!” he had said. It was so similar to what his son had said about the books Steve wrote about his mom.

The sentiment is nice in a way. No matter who Steve is seeing, his kid still thinks it's gross.

And that is how the months before Christmas are spent. Steve's days are filled with planning and prepping the fundraiser with Eddie and his nights are spent dipping his toe into writing his first queer romance between Scott and Theodore.

The one thing that Steve and Eddie don’t do is talk about it. About the kissing, the falling into bed together, the nights on couches and mornings walking the grounds hand in hand.

But they don’t stop either.

It feels like they are building something, and Steve is too scared to look close enough to name what it could be. Too afraid to lose something else he wants, and instead puts his hopes in his book.

Today, Steve wakes up in Eddie's bed. He is not entirely sure when the shift from sleeping in the tower room to staying in the apartment with Eddie happened, but it felt so natural that they haven't talked about it. Like everything else.

But Steve gets to watch Eddie breathe in the light of the early morning sun, so it can't be that bad.

There are so many things planned, still so many things to check off of the to-do list before the castle will be ready for guests, but Steve decides that can wait. He feels a strange sense of calm, one he has not felt in years, flooding the room at the chance to see this man like this. Slack-jawed and quietly snoring with Steve’s head and hand resting on his chest.

Must sense Steve watching him, and his eyes flutter open against the sunlight. “Good morning,” he says with a small smile, the grogginess evident in his voice.

“Mornin',” Steve replies, tilting his head to the side to block some of the morning light.

He woke up a few times in the night with ideas for the final chapter of his book, and his notebook open to the most recent page catches his eye. The chicken scratch of a sleep addled brain is pretty illegible from this side of the bed, but that doesn’t matter. He remembers what he wrote.

Sometimes the proof you are looking for that everything will work out isn't there. Maybe you just need to know how you are feeling, and maybe that is enough to keep going.

He looks back to Eddie only to see him already looking back. There is something Steve can’t, or maybe won’t, name sparkling in his eyes.

“You ever gonna let me read it?” Eddie whispers, the quiet too comfortable to break just yet.

And that is yet another thing they don’t talk about, the love story that Steve is writing about them. Steve is way past pretending it isn’t about them, about what he wants to happen.

It makes sense, every other romance he has written has come from his real life so it is only natural that once this started it seeped into his writing. And if he is honest, Dustin never believed his argument that not everything he writes is based in truth because it is.

So he hasn’t let Eddie read it yet. Not when it would be too revealing. Not when they haven't talked.

“When it's done,” Steve tells him again, the same as every other time he has asked, “You’ll get to read it when it's done.”
 
—
 
It's early in the evening on the Saturday before Christmas, and Steve and Eddie are getting ready for bed. The celebration is tomorrow and Steve is exhausted from the day. They are getting ready to sleep, winding down from a day spent running around setting finishing touches and confirming deliveries.

Eddie is in the other room changing into his sleep clothes while Steve brushes his teeth in the attached bathroom, door open. He can see his own tired eyes looking back at him in the mirror, drained but calm. Settled. Like this is how he is meant to look. Eddie is chatting idly about nothing important and his voice is nice to hear after a long day.

Steve likes this feeling, like they could be happy to just exist in the vicinity of each other. It’s another feeling he wonders if he ever felt with Kelly, one he can't remember.

“...and Chrissy, she took the phone from me, you know how she is, and was able to get the delivery people to agree on a compromise. She is just so good at– oof,” Eddie cuts himself off. There's a soft thump and Steve huffs out a small laugh. Eddie is pretty clumsy, he's noticed, so him running into things isn’t something new. So he waits for the rest of the story.

But Eddie doesn’t pick up where he left off. It's the quiet, the lack of talking, that makes Steve peak around the corner.

Steve freezes.

No.

No no no no–

Eddie is sitting on the edge of the bed,

Steve’s side of the bed

his brain unhelpfully provides, holding his notebook.

Open.

Reading it.

Steve lets out a pained whine at the sight, and that makes Eddie's eyes snap up. He looks sheepish and wide eyed. Caught.

No.

It's irrational, he knows, but Steve isn't prepared for this. He can't do this yet. He's not ready for Eddie to read his unedited, unfiltered thoughts. Not when he knows

nothing

about the book, about what he's been writing. He

can't

, not yet.

“Eddie,” Steve says, dripping with hurt.

“It– I knocked into the nightstand and, and it fell! It fell open and I saw my name… I didn’t do this on purpose, I promise but I– ,” He tries to explain, eyes pleading.

“It's not,” Steve breaks, “

I’m

not ready.”

“You can’t expect me not to be curious, Steve. You have let everyone else read it. You let Chrissy read your writing for god sake! How could I not wonder what you are writing?”

“I’m not there yet! This book, the words in there, they are my

heart

Eddie. You can't just, like, look in there without being let in. I have to make the choice and I was

going

to," Steve says quietly into the room, voice cracking as he does, “We were on our way there and– and I thought you

knew that

.”

It physically hurts him to explain, but he tries. And he’s not so much mad that Eddie read the notebook, but that he couldn’t wait. That he didn’t trust Steve to come to him with this in his own time.

“No!” Eddie shouts, “No I didn't know that! You don't tell me anything, and, like, how am I supposed to just know?”

“I thought, maybe, you trusted me,” Steve throws back like a dagger aimed at the heart.

And the worst part is if he had just waited, just put the notebook back on the nightstand and kept talking, he would have learned that Steve finished the book yesterday. He sent the final draft off to his publisher this morning.

Eddies throws his hands up in exasperation, accidentally slamming Steve's journal shut in his hand.

“Trust you?!” he sounds upset, drawn to the end of his patience. “How could I, I don’t

know

you!”

And that, that is what shatters the remaining fragments of Steve's heart.

“No,” he says, resigned, “I guess you don’t.”

“Steve,” Eddie falters, “I’m sorry, I didn’t–”

Steve cuts him off, mind made up. “No. You didn't, did you. I– ” It’s harsher than he meant to be, but he's tired. “I think I should go.”

“Wait, Steve, plea-”

“No, yeah,” he says to himself, “I should go.” He takes his notebook from Eddie's hands, who just lets go, and looks around for the rest of his things.

And suddenly he is aware of his surroundings and how… nothing here is his.

Even though he has slept in Eddie's apartment consistently for the better part of a month, there is nothing here to grab on his way out. Even the toothbrush he was just using was an extra of Eddie's. They hadn't planned to spend that first night here, and Steve didn't want to leave just to brush his teeth and come back, so Eddie gave him one he had lying around. They didn’t plan on doing it again, and again, until it was routine.

But there is nothing of his here, so Steve leaves with the shirt on his back, his notebook, and a heart he made break.

Packing up his room is hard. Harder than signing the divorce papers. Harder than the nasty custody battle. Harder even than sending Dustin off to school, because this time it's him who's leaving everyone behind.

In the short time he has been here, Steve really has collected some memories. He cries as he takes down the pictures that Jon gave him, physical proof that he has friends here. Pictures of him and Robin crying laughing at a grumpy Max. Of him at the bar with Argyle, learning how to make the sunset pink drink Argyle has dubbed the “Steve Special”. Of Eddie laughing brightly, head tilted up towards the sky, and Steve looking at him with a fond smile and a light in his eyes.

He calls Robin as he packs up to beg for a ride out of here. It is not too terribly late, but he needs to get out of here as fast as he can, and the Taxi isn’t feeling like the most reliable option. He looks around the room as he waits for her to answer the phone. His eyes land on the golden bat paperweight. It sits on top of the dresser that Eddie moved into his room that first day. The thing that made him wonder if he misread the man.

“Robbie,” Steve says when she picks up, sadness evident in his voice, “Can you, god I feel like a little kid. Can you come pick me up? I just, I gotta get out of here and I-”

“Of course,” she cuts him off. “I'll borrow Argyle’s van or maybe Nancy’s car if she's still here. But, Steve, I gotta ask, are you ok?”

The light in the room shifts, shining off of the bat making it look like it's glowing. He forces out a wet laugh, “Yeah, I'll tell you when you get here. I can't be here anymore”

“I'll be there in 20 minutes. Ok?”

“Thank you.” He sighs in relief.

He steals the gold bat paperweight. They probably won't miss it anyway, he thinks, but he would. He had moved it into his room after everyone else left that first day. It felt significant then, and it feels significant now. So he takes it with him, one more physical thing that proves he was here.

Steve, thankful for the manual labor of the past few weeks, is able to sneak his bags down the stairs and past Eddie's apartment without incident. The loud music blasting from behind Eddie's door, some song Steve hasn't heard before, doesn’t hurt his cause.

Robin is the best friend he could ask for. She is there as he opens the front doors with a hug and care and it is everything he needs. Steve can all but see the questions swirling around her head, but thankfully she waits to ask them until they are back at the inn.

She lets him crawl into bed with her, lets him cling to her as he talks. She lets him vent, and tells him she understands, and lets him fall asleep in the warmth of her love.

She helps him book a flight home, even if the next flight is until tonight and is in the early hours of the morning. She even calls to book the taxi for him, knowing that it will be busy the night of the party.

He has a final meeting with his publisher about this book in a few days anyway, he figures it might as well be in person. The stupid happy ending he optimistically wrote for Theodore and Scott feels like a punch in the gut knowing how the story is actually turning out.

Looks like I just might make the before Christmas deadline after all,

he thinks a little bitterly before drifting off to sleep. 
 
—
 
The plan Robin and Steve come up with is for him to waste the day away with Argyle in the pub. Nancy already had plans with Jon and Max to help out with any last minute things around the castle, so they left town early in the morning.

Robin needs to be around the Inn for any emergencies and to help the guest make it from there to the castle later. Argyle just needs to man the bar until it's an acceptable time for people to start heading over to the party, so he is the best bet for babysitting Steve as Robin has dubbed it.

Then Argyle will help chauffeur some of the more important guests while Robin makes sure that the taxi makes it back and forth with the rest, eventually getting in the last one herself. They leave Steve with a set of keys, one to the inn, one to the bar, and one to the front door that connects them.

And the day goes exactly as planned. Eventually, Robin is waving goodbye and calling out different versions of “you better call/write/facetime/visit” threats as the taxi drives in the direction of the party.

“You better make a move tonight, loser!” he calls back.

They’ve bonded, and Steve couldn't feel luckier. Even if this trip leaves him with a broken heart and a finished book he can’t read again, he is also leaving with a best friend.

But even still, the taxi won’t pick him up until 11:30, and it's only 8pm. So he turns back around to wait out the time in the warmth of the bar.

He’s barely turned around, one hand on the doorknob, when he hears what sounds like hoofs on the cobblestones. It's a sound that is out of place this late on a normal day, especially since it's past dark, and it's going the wrong way if they are heading to the party, but honestly he doesn't really care. He's sad and he's lonely and he doesn't care to wait and see what is going on.

So he opens and closes the outermost door. But the clip-clopping gets closer and closer and then... stops.

And that…

That is interesting enough to get Steve to open the door and face the cold again.

He comes face to face with Not-Bennie. For a second, he wonders if his childhood horse is haunting him, but he looks up and sees Eddie. Eddie in a suit jacket and a kilt on horseback, hair wild and cheeks red from the wind.

It’s like a frame out of a movie, the moon bright behind Eddie’s head shining like a halo as Steve looks up at him. All that's missing is snow.

“Steve,” Eddie breathes out as he dismounts Not-Bennie, “I'm sorry. I just need to start with that.”

Steve is frozen, not sure what to do or how to respond. Thankfully, Eddie continues anyway.

“You are so…” he hesitates, either unsure what to say or holding himself back from saying something, Steve's not sure which. “And… and you deserve someone who won't cut you down when they are scared. I don’t… Well, that's not true. I know why I said all that.” Eddie waves his hand in the air.

“I knew it would hurt, hurt you, because even without talking about it, without you explaining it to me, I

do

know you. I was hurt because I felt like you might, like, not love me the way I was starting to love you.”

Love?

“I was scared of what it meant and I let myself use that to hurt you too. I know I broke your trust and I am so sorry. I should have stopped and talked to you, I should have followed you here yesterday when you left. I should have come earlier today, but I didn't. I just didn't know what to say or how to say it. And honestly, I still don’t, but you deserve to see the celebration you planned.”

“You don't need to forgive me, you don't even have to talk to me, but you need to come with me.”

Steve doesn't know what to say. How does he respond to a confession like that? He doesn't know, so he says the only thing he can.

“Ok.”

The ride is frigid, even with Steve holding tightly to Eddie's torso. The cold wind rips and scratches at his skin, but if this is what it takes to get a last moment with Eddie, he will take it. He does slightly regret not taking the time to grab his coat though. He had just let Eddie help him onto the back of Not-Bennie and they took off.

It’s gorgeous

, he thinks as he catches a glimpse of the castle in the distance over Eddie's shoulder.

It is lit with the fairy lights he himself helped hang but also with candles. They both give a golden, flickering glow to the stone exterior. It's soft and classy, exactly as he planned.

Belatedly, Steve thinks he is going to be severely underdressed. He is still wearing his airport clothes, sweatpants and an oversized sweater. At least it’s a little bit festive he supposes.

Steve and Eddie do what they are best at when they arrive, not talking. Eddie helps Steve get off of Not-Bennie safely, but then turns to the castle without a word.

There are groups of people in gowns and suits milling around the doors and on the balconies, and he can tell that there are so many more inside. It takes his breath away how many people showed up.

How many people care.

The inside is even more beautiful, trees and garlands decorating the entry and sparkling ornaments decorating the ballroom. There are tables and tables of donated things across one side of the ballroom, fabrics and pottery, art and food, all laid out to be bid on. Steve had sent Argyle with the signed copy of his manuscript, hoping that those who wanted to read it early would be willing to spend a pretty penny on it.

Also, he never wanted to see it again, so sending it for a good cause felt right.

Now though, he has to see the line of people trying to out bid each other for the chance to read his work. It's enough to make him a bit misty eyed, though he thinks he can blame it on the cold air.

Steve’s eyes find Robin quickly, Eddie having disappeared almost as soon as they passed the threshold. Her red plaid suit is easy to spot next to Chrissy’s dark blue gown, especially as they are picturesque against the white of the walls. They are talking, heads bowed together. Chrissy giggles at something Robin said, and Robin ducks her head to hide a smile.

Robin's eyes go wide when she spots him from across the room, and he takes that as his cue to walk over. They both call his name as he approaches, though he gets the sense that Chrissy knew what Eddie had done. If he's honest, she probably even had a hand in it. Robin, on the other hand, is significantly more surprised.

“Go dance, you two.” He says when he's within earshot. Though Chrissy insisted on working the event tonight, he thinks she could be easily persuaded to take a break to dance.

Chrissy responds exactly like he thought she would. “I can’t Steve, I'm working.”

“Sure…” He takes the clipboard she's waving in his face, trying to prove that she is, in fact, working “Chris. I've got this. Go have some fun,” he winks at Robin who goes as red as her suit. He was right, because Chrissy jumped at the chance to dance, pulling a still confused Robin behind her.

There is a string quartet with a harpist at the center of the dancefloor, playing some classical piece Steve doesn't know the name of but definitely has heard before. The dance floor is circular, moving like a train on a track slowly around the base of a tree. Steve sees Eddie slip back into the room out of the corner of his eye. The two girls find an open spot and are dancing close to each other as they migrate around the floor.

Luckily, like he tried to tell Chrissy weeks ago, there is not much to do to ‘work’ this party, so Steve is left to watch. There are people drinking, eating, bidding, dancing, and above all else, being happy.

It is everything that he could have hoped for, something that can outlive his little bit of time in this town.

He's content to just observe, happy to have done something right. Something good.

But then Eddie is there, bumping their shoulders together.

“Hey.”

He is standing close, arms crossed across his chest. He doesn’t respond, but Steve finds it in him to look. He rolls his head across his shoulders, meets Eddie's eyes, and raises an eyebrow.

“I know we're, like, not really in the place anymore, but I have something for you.”

And that…

Ok, so Steve has never really liked gifts.

Even back in high school, before they had any money, Kelly tried to apologize with gifts. She always thought if the gift was big enough, expensive enough, that anything could be forgiven. After a fight, even a small one, she would come home with a new gaming system, or tickets to an extravagant vacation, thinking that anything she said could be forgotten. It never really worked for Steve, but he loved her so he let her do what she felt she needed to. But because of that, Steve has had a weird relationship with receiving gifts.

He is a little worried that Eddie might be doing that, trying to bribe him into not being upset with a gift. He doesn't want something that Eddie thinks just solves their fight, solves their issues.

“I had it all planned before, you know, last night, so…” Eddie says, seeing the weird look on Steve's face. He must have learned to read Steve in the short time they were together. “Chrissy did a lot of the planning if that makes it better.”

“Uh…” Steve starts, and then freezes for the second time today.

Because Dustin just walked in.

Steve breathes in fully for what feels like the first time since he left New York. His kid, his son, his

heart

is here, and Steve suddenly feels like he could cry. It crashes over him in a wave of joy and love. He looks back to Eddie, who is watching him with a private smile.

“

Thank you

,” Steve mouths in awe as he hugs Dustin, and Eddie nods back. It's small and private and perfect, and Steve thinks that maybe Eddie does know him more than he thought.

The rest of the night was spent introducing Dustin to all of his new friends, in person this time, and watching Eddie from across the room.

Dustin and Max get along like a house on fire. It's a little scary, the idea of them bonding enough to bully him, but Steve can get over it. At some point Max pulls Dustin to the corner to introduce him to Will and Mike, Jon and Nancy’s younger siblings.

It leaves Steve to fend for himself. He walks the isles of auctioning goods, bidding on a blanket that would be a lovely addition to the Inn and a large painting of the nature around the castle. It would be nice to take a little bit of this place home to his big empty house in New York.

He glances at the bids on his manuscript and pauses. Steve is no stranger to people having strong opinions on his work, but even with no idea what this story is about, just his name and the exclusivity of a manuscript, the amount people are willing to spend is absurd to him.

$4,280 - E. Munson

That is what it is at right now.

Someone would pay four thousand dollars to read his book early.

The handwriting sparks a memory somewhere in back of Steve’s mind, but it's fleeting and so fast that he can’t grab it long enough to fully understand. Hopefully whoever this is won't be mad, but there is really only one person that Steve wants to read the finished story first.

So it may be impulsive, but he bids on his own manuscript. He thinks of it like one final donation to the longevity of this town, so that someday he can bring Hop back here, as he bids $15,000. It ensures that he will win, that he gets to leave this manuscript in the apartment just one floor above.

Because no matter what has changed or happened tonight, Steve still has to leave. He has to see Dustin home now, has to make his meeting that he agreed to do in person. He has to see Hop, hug him again.

So if all he leaves behind for Eddie is this book, it will have to be enough. 
 
—
 
Steve spends Christmas with Hop and Dustin, his family, and everything almost feels right. Like if the world had been moved 3 centimeters to the left. Like something is missing, something is off, but not enough to really be noticeable unless you looked for it.

He's sad, obviously so, and Hop lets him get away with it. He doesn’t try to push or fix anything, just lets Steve exist with his emotions. He lets Steve work through them on his own.

Dustin, on the other hand, is all up in his business.

“Just call him dad. Explain and talk and fix it so you can go be happy,” he says rolling his eyes.

Yeah right, like it's that easy.

He thinks.

“It is that easy dad. I know, I talked to Robin. You're both just dumb and stupid and need to

talk.

How am I better than you at this, I’m 20!”

Every conversation Steve has with Robin is much of the same.

“You are being a dingus, Stevie. He couldn't hate you, you know that right? Just call him.”

Even Chrissy won’t let him off the hook, texting him every other day about how she misses his cooking. And how miserable Eddie is being without Steve there. But mostly about the food.

He justifies leaving to himself, just like he did that night. He needs to be here for Christmas with Dustin. He needs to be here for his dad. He needs to be here for his book.

But Christmas comes and goes, and Dustin goes back to school. His book gets finalized and everything he is needed for is signed. And with Hop being the only last tie to his resolve, Steve starts to doubt his ability to not run back to Hawkins.

In an attempt to stave off the feeling again, Steve had gone into his publisher's office to sign off on the font and cover of the book this morning. When he gets back to his home, though, he is surprised to find his dad.

His dad packing up Steve's New York home.

His dad putting his books and clothing into boxes?

His dad packing his kitchen away and emptying the fridge of food.

“Dad?” Steve questions. He is confused. Rightfully so he thinks, but confused nonetheless.

Hop turns around, clearly expecting the confusion. He does not even seem surprised in the slightest.

“Kid,” Hop says in an exasperated tone that Steve recognises from when he was doing something stupid in high school. One that sounds an awful lot like

use your context clues

. “What does it look like I'm doing?”

Steve’s brain might just be taking a walk around the block with how slow it is processing the scene before him. “Packing?”

“Packing,” Hop nods.

Brows furrowed, Steve asks the next words that come to mind. “Are you kicking me out of my own house? You don't live here, you know that right?”

That makes his dad huff out a small laugh.

“Maybe it's time that you don't live here either.”

“So you are kicking me out,” Steve tries to joke. It falls a little flat.

“Steve.”

“Sorry. Continue.”

Hopper sits on one of the boxes he was just filling and pats the one next to him, inviting Steve to sit too. He guesses it's going to be one of those conversations. He turns to look Steve in the eye, watching him analytically as he speaks.

“You've got something good waiting for you and I can't for the life of me figure out what's holding you back,” his dad says, shaking his head. “But if what it takes for you to get your head out of your ass and get back to Scotland is for me to kick you out of your own house, maybe that is what I should do.”

“You have to live your life for you for once kid. It will pass you by too fast if you don't do things for yourself sometimes. Don’t regret things you can change, kid.”

There is a far off look in his dads eyes, and not for the first time Steve wonders who his dad is missing so deeply.

But this, this conversation is what it takes.

This is what finally gets it into his head that he is allowed to go back. He is allowed to take the chance and show up in Hawkins again, allowed to hope for a happy ending like the one he wrote.

So he goes.
 
— 
 
Steve leaves New York on the next flight out, taking the bag that Hop had already packed for him. It still feels surreal that he is doing this. That he is going to just up and leave his life for the second time, except he is not running away this time.

He's running towards his future.

The taxi ride from the airport to Hawkins is just as long and foggy as it was the last time, and the anxiety of an unknown is eating at his stomach. But Steve also knows that no matter what happens, he has people here who will take care of him. That love him.

It is almost like Steve is living a parallel lifetime to his last trip. The unplanned plane ride. The nighttime drive though the hills of scotland. Except this time, instead of having the taxi drop him off at the Inn, he gives the taxi the castle’s address.

He tips his driver double, hands shaking with nerves, and the taxi leaves him on the steps he walked for the first time only a few months ago. Ones that have come to feel so much like home.

The lights are still up from Christmas, thankfully, so Steve is able to see where he is going as he approaches. It's still as beautiful and intimidating as it was that first day. He hopes that Chrissy or Eddie will hear him as he knocks on the door.

The wood is damp under his knuckles from the cool air, and he waits.

And waits.

And waits.

Until finally, the hinges are creaking and a crack in the door appears. It's Chrissy who answers the door, and Steve lets out a breath. It's not like he knows what he's going to say to Eddie anyway, but having just these few more minutes to stress about them is welcome.

He is crushed in a hug the moment Chrissy realizes who he is, and it feels like hugging his sister. A sister he never had. She goes to call over her shoulder, up to Eddie's apartment, but Steve stops her.

“Just… maybe let me?” he says. He doesn't explain more, but he doesn't have to. She understands and lets him in with a smile and a wink.

He walks up the stairs to Eddie’s front door and pauses, his fist only inches from the wood of the door. Eddie might not want him here, Steve worries. He might still be upset at Steve for… well all of it. The book, the fight, the leaving.

He never even really apologized, just. Left.

But Eddie reached out first, he rationalises. Eddie flew his son out to Scotland. Brought him his family, even when they never defined what they are to each other. So it’s probably worth the risk, he thinks.

It's reminiscent of the first time they met, except this time he knocks. Eddie calls “One sec!” from deep inside his apartment and Steve smiles. It might really be a repeat of their first meeting, if he is right.

He is. Eddie opens his front door wrapped in two towels, one for his hair and one for his lower half. He's drying off his hair as he opens the door, and doesn’t even look up at first.

“Yeah, yeah. Ok Chris what was so imp-”

Their eyes meet and Steve doesn't turn around this time. And Eddie.

Eddie drops the towel from his hair and stares at Steve, wide eyes and searching his face.

“What the fuck?” Eddie says.

“I’m sorry.” Steve starts. It feels as good a place as any for an unplanned conversation. “I never said that back, before I left. I was hurt and I took it out on you and then I kept taking it out on you and just… I'm sorry.”

Eddies just keep staring, eyes going impossibly wider with every word.

“What the fuck!” Eddie eventually cries.

“You fucker!” and then breaks into a blinding smile. “I can't believe you would write that, all of that, leave it here, and just…”

“I really thought you left. You didn't even give me a chance to tell you that I'm in love with you too. Thought I might never get the chance.”

They just look at eachother, Steve staring into Eddie’s bewildered eyes for an eternity.

“You- uh,” Steve replies eloquently. “How do you know that I'm in love with you?”

At that, Eddie just rolls his eyes, relaxing slightly. “Steve. You wrote a book about us falling in love and Didn't. Change. A. Single. Thing. I'm not stupid, of course I know.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“And you love me too?”

“Yep.”

“Why?”

Eddie takes one step closer to him and looks up at the ceiling in exasperation. “Have I not been clear enough? God, we’ve really gotta work on this communication thing, don't we?”

That startles a small laugh out of Steve.

“Yeah, probably.”

“You care, Steve.” Eddie starts, and Steve didn't expect him to give an actual answer. “You care so deeply about this place your dad loved even when you had never been here. You didn't stop at buying the place, you made sure to find a way to keep saving it over and over again. You bonded so quickly with Robin and made her feel safe, loved even. You gave me second and third chances even after being shitty to you on purpose. You wrote me a book to tell me you love me. You

came back

. How could I not love you?”

And how could Steve physically

not

kiss him?

He has to.

Like this whole day has, kissing Eddie feels like coming home. It's all consuming. He holds Eddie's face, still flushed and warm from his shower, and Eddie pulls Steve close by his waist. His tongue maps the inside of Eddie's teeth, and Eddie does the same of Steve’s lips. Eventually though, they have to come up for air.

Eddie rests their foreheads together, unable to pull back far enough to look into his eyes.

“You’re back right? Like, back for good?” he asks, the slight tremble in his voice showing his fear that Steve will leave again. It's nice to be able to tell that Eddie is as worried, as in this, as Steve is.

He nods, hoping Eddie can feel it from where they are pressed together. “And really hoping that the hot naked guy in front of me is willing to let me live with him again?” he says with a smile he can hear in his voice.

Eddie pulls him into a kiss by the collar of his shirt. “This hot naked guy is willing to do much more than just that,” mumbled against his lips.

They've got time to figure out the rest, but for now they get their happily ever after. 
 
— 
 
Best selling author and surprise queer icon S.M. Harrington has sold his New York home, is new love blooming?