maybe i'll sleep when i'm dead (i'll stare straight into the sun and i won't close my eyes 'til i understand or go blind)

Lying to himself is easier than admitting the truth, and Eddie has never been more scared in his life than he is right now, staring up at Steve Harrington in the waning twilight, balancing on the tipping point between sobriety’s composure and the ferine need to be so drunk that he can’t remember his name or what he’s about to do.

eddie lived. steve harrington is now a self-imposed facet in his life that he can't seem to get away from. caught up in the aftermath of surviving a horror he wouldn't be capable of dreaming up even in the worst trip imaginable— he's crashing; falling, tripping, stumbling, head-first into something he's been running from his entire life.