085

trigger warning: traumatic flashbacks

You sleep deep in Elena's bed.

The kind of sleep that pulls you under like warm water.

No dreams, no fear. Just stillness.

Eddie's arms are wrapped tight around you, his chest against your back, his breath slow and steady where it brushes the back of your neck. His skin is warm beneath your palms, and the weight of him, the solid presence of him, grounds you. Like a heartbeat you can hold onto.

Outside, the city hums through the night, a faint lull of car engines and late-night voices, but it feels far away. Sealed out.

Nothing gets through the walls of Elena's room. Not here. Not now.

Your friends are just on the other side of the door. Close. Safe.

And you? You're exactly where you're supposed to be.

The sirens are what wake you hours later.

Not loud, but close. Somewhere down the street. A sharp wail, then a fade.

You blink slowly, the sunlight creeping in through the blinds, drawing warm lines across the floor.

Eddie groans behind you. He shifts, arm tightening around your waist, legs tangling with yours. His face buries into your shoulder like he's trying to burrow back into sleep and escape the world entirely."Fucking city", he mutters against your skin.

You smile, turning just enough to peek at him.

His hair is a mess, his cheeks soft and lips swollen with sleep. His eyes are still closed, the dark brows crinkled in adorable offense at the existence of noise. He looks like a pissed-off angel.

"You're so grumpy", you whisper.

"Because it's too early and this place is loud and I hate everyone who isn't you", he mumbles, clinging harder, draping half his body over yours like a blanket. "Even the sirens. Especially the sirens."

You bite back a laugh, reaching back and stroking your fingers through his hair, "You're such a drama queen."

He hums, "You're such a warm, delicious human heater. Why are you talking?"

You giggle.

He's everything right now. All heavy limbs and sleepy weight and that intoxicating smell of his skin, linen, warmth, and something that's just... Eddie.

The kind of smell that makes you want to crawl inside his ribs and live there.

You roll around slowly, careful not to tug at his ribs too much, but just enough to end up facing him, tangled together like roots.

His arm flops down uselessly across your waist, and he groans again, face burying into the pillow like maybe if he hides hard enough, the day won't find him.

You grin sleepily. "God, you're perfect", you murmur into his hair.

"Mmm. I know", he sighs dramatically, "Tell me more while I die from morning."

You chuckle and kiss the side of his head, breath catching a little. "You smell so good".

"I always smell good", he grumbles proudly, eyes still closed.

"You're soft. And wrinkly."

"Rude."

"And so fucking cute I can't take it."

His mouth lifts at the corner, barely a smirk. "Then perish"

You snort and nuzzle closer, peppering his neck with soft kisses. "Ugh, you smell so good", you murmur, inhaling him again, making exaggerated sniff sounds. Loudly.

He stiffens. "Did you just... sniff me?"

"Yes", you whisper, grinning, nose brushing against his collarbone, "You smell like heaven, baby.''

"I'm trying to suffer quietly, and you're over here sniffing me like some sort of emotionally unstable woodland creature."

"You love it", you grin, taking another sniff.

"No, I-", he starts, but you already move your face up and kiss his cheek. He sighs.

You kiss his nose.

He groans, eyes still closed. "Why are you like this?"

You kiss the little crease between his brows, and he flinches like it physically wounded him. "Because you're so cute, it hurts me, Eddie".

He opens one eye. Glares at you. "That's horrifying."

You smirk at him. "Let me love you", you whisper dramatically, draping yourself across him like a starfish, rubbing your cheek against his chest. "Give in. Be my emotional support human."

"You're my emotional support goblin".

You look up. "I'll take it".

He tries to turn away, but your limbs follow, clinging like velcro.

He's warm. So damn warm.

Your leg slides between his, arms wrapped around his waist, your face stuffed under his jaw as you inhale him again with an exaggerated sigh.

He's groaning again. "You are the worst."

"And yet here we are", you mumble against his skin, voice full of glee. "You wanted this, Munson, you chose me. You gotta live with it now, if you want it, or not."

He doesn't answer right away, just squeezes his eyes shut and dramatically throws his head back on the pillow. Then, very quietly, "...you smell good too."

You look up, smug as hell. "Aww, babe".

"Shut up."

"You like me", you tease, drawing little circles on his naked chest.

He groans again, slapping a pillow over his face. "I like sleep", he groans muffled.

You giggle. Crawl even closer somehow, if that's even possible, just a big ball of sleepy affection. Even though he's still pretending to be very, very annoyed, you can feel the way his hand strokes your back under the blanket. Lazy. Protective. Like even in his sleepy grumpiness, he's still yours.

You snuggle impossibly closer, practically burrowing under his skin, nose brushing against his throat now.

He still has the pillow over his face, but you can feel the smile he's trying so hard to fight. "You're such a brat," he mumbles through the pillow, voice muffled and scratchy from sleep.

"You love me," you sing softly, kissing just under his jaw, then trailing little ones down his neck, slow and warm and completely unnecessary.

He shifts a little. You can tell he's trying not to react. But the way his hand curls at your lower back, fingers squeezing ever so slightly? You know you've got him.

"You're evil," he whispers.

"You're soft," you whisper back, grinning as you kiss along his collarbone, lazy and affectionate. "You're so warm and sweet and soft in the morning. I love annoying you when you're like this."

He groans dramatically again, lifting the pillow just enough to squint at you. His hair is a mess, flattened on one side, his cheeks pillow-creased, eyelids heavy and lashes clumped from sleep. He looks wrecked.

You love it.

"Do you have to kiss every inch of my face before I've even had coffee?"

"Yes," you say simply, then lean in and kiss his chin, his nose, both his cheeks, and then a soft, lingering kiss to his lips, "And I'll do it again."

"You're fucking insufferable," he rasps, lips finally moving with yours, catching you in another kiss that's deeper now, slower, with a sleepy hum at the back of his throat.

You grin into it, pulling back just enough to kiss the corner of his mouth, "I'm your problem now."

"My curse," he mutters, then sighs as you nuzzle into his chest again. His hand drags up your spine, palm flattening between your shoulder blades, warm and familiar. He's pretending to be annoyed still, but you can feel him melting. The way his legs tangle with yours under the blanket. The way his hand finds your hip and rests there like it always has.

Nuzzled into his chest, you're grinning to yourself, fingers tracing lazy little shapes across his stomach, slow spirals, then hearts, then utterly meaningless squiggles that make his muscles twitch.

He huffs, trying to ignore it. Tries.

Then you move your hand a little lower. Not far. Just enough to suggest. Tease.

He goes rigid. "Don't."

You blink up at him with the most innocent face you can manage, "I'm not doing anything."

"You are. You're being-" His voice cuts off when you do it again, fingers barely grazing just above the waistband of his boxers, following the small trail of hair under his navel.

Nothing scandalous. Just a suggestion. Just enough to make your point.

"Baby," you coo, biting back your smile. "You're so warm. I'm just trying to..."

He groans. Loud. Throws his head back against the pillow and covers his eyes dramatically like he's suffering the greatest injustice known to man. "You are the devil. I'm trying to sleep, and you're-"

You do it again.

That's it.

He rolls you over in one smooth motion, settling between your legs, eyes still heavy with sleep but fully awake now, pinning you beneath him, breath warm against your face, his weight grounding.

"You wanna play that game?" he rasps, voice still half-broken from sleep. His hair is a complete mess, sticking up in places, and his eyes, God, his eyes. That sleepy, annoyed, deeply amused look that only he wears this perfectly.

You blink up at him with wide, fake-innocent eyes. "I have no idea what you mean".

"Yeah?" he murmurs, smirking now, "Let's see if you still don't know what I mean when I do this."

And then he kisses you. Firm, slow, claiming. Not hurried, not wild, just deep and warm and consuming, and he doesn't stop.

One kiss turns into another, and another, and you're laughing against his mouth until the laughter melts into a hum, into a sigh, into your fingers curling around his biceps.

"I win," he whispers against your lips.

You smile, breathless. "Not even close."

He pulls back just an inch, eyes narrowing in mock offense. "Not even close?" he repeats, low and scandalized, like you've just insulted his honor. His fingers curl gently into your sides, thumbs brushing up under the hem of your shirt.

You nod smugly, tilting your chin up like a brat, "Mm-hm. I let you roll me over. Strategic sacrifice".

"Oh, strategic", he murmurs, leaning down again, lips ghosting over your jaw, your cheek, teasing you, "You're playing chess now, huh?"

"I'm always playing chess."

"Bullshit", he mumbles, trailing kisses down the side of your neck, his voice thick and soft and full of sleepy fondness, "You play Uno and cheat."

You snort, fingers tangling in his hair, "You love it when I cheat.'

"I love you in spite of it", he rasps against your collarbone, voice a little rougher now, warmer.

You melt. Absolutely melt. Heart a puddle, body soft under him, eyes fluttering shut because this right here, this, is everything. His sleep-warm breath, the weight of him, the way he sounds when he's only half awake and completely in love with you. You smirk, burying your face in his hair, inhaling him again.

He grunts, pretending to be grumpy, "Stop sniffing me, you freak."

"You love it."

He grumbles something unintelligible, kisses the corner of your mouth, then your nose, then your chin. "Yeah. I do."

You grin, "Told you. I'm winning."

That earns you a soft growl and another kiss, deeper this time, slower. His hands anchor at your hips, lazy but possessive, and he hums against your mouth like he could stay here forever.

He shifts, lips wandering over your neck now, making you sigh quietly, your body soft and warm beneath him, every cell in you sighing at the way he sounds, sleep-heavy, gravelly, like he's been dreaming of you and doesn't wanna wake up from it.

You wrap your arms tighter around him, legs shifting under the blanket to tangle with his. "Baby", you whisper, caressing his neck with your nails.

"Mm?" He doesn't lift his head, just nuzzles deeper against your neck like he's trying to crawl inside you and sleep there forever.

"I want more."

That gets his attention.

He lifts his head an inch, blinking slow, bleary. "More... cuddles?" he teases, voice half-amused, half-intrigued.

You shrug a little, biting back a grin, trying to act casual even though your fingers are sliding lower on his back, creeping toward the waistband of his boxers. "Maybe."

He raises an eyebrow, catching the shift in your tone instantly, "That's not a cuddle voice."

You pout, lean up, kiss the underside of his jaw, "Maybe I'm just a little clingy."

His mouth twitches, but he keeps playing along, "Clingy, huh?"

"Mmhmm." You kiss him again, slower this time, letting your hips press against his, letting him feel exactly what kind of more you meant. "And maybe a little horny now. Can't help it with you rolling me around like that, kissing me and shit. I'm just a woman, babe."

He groans softly, lets his head drop into the crook of your neck like you've just ruined him. "Babe" he whines, muffled, "It's too early."

"Is it?", you whisper, shamelessly grabbing his ass, making him chuckle and groan dramatically.

You move, laughing at how he groans again as you roll, pressing your body flush to his, and he shifts beneath you, wincing at the dull ache in his ribs.

"Baby", he grumbles, voice hoarse from sleep and disuse, "the sun's barely up and your man is held together by prescription painkillers and sheer willpower."

You just smirk, eyes glittering with mischief as you kiss the corner of his mouth, "Uh-huh. And yet here you are. Breathing. Warm. Cuddly. In my bed."

"In Elena's bed", he corrects gruffly, cracking one eye open. "Don't think she signed up for morning porn."

You snort, ignoring him, crawling further on top of him, skin sliding over his.

He exhales sharply, the sound hitching in his throat when you settle, straddling him just lightly enough to tease

Your fingers trail over his chest, his stomach, dragging under the waistband of his boxers just to hear him suck in a breath.

"Eds", you mumble sweetly, brushing your nose against his, "Your girlfriend's horny, and you still wanna sleep?"

He opens both eyes now, lips twitching with the beginnings of a crooked, sinful grin, "Maybe."

You hum thoughtfully.

Then, slowly, casually, you reach down to lift your shirt over your head and toss it aside. You're topless now, bare in the soft morning light. You tilt your head. "Still maybe?"

Eddie just stares for a second, blinking like he needs to reboot. "Jesus Christ."

"That's a yes."

"I didn't say yes."

"You didn't say no."

He groans like it's physically painful to admit how fast his priorities just shifted. "You're evil", he mutters, hands finding your hips instinctively. "A menace. A horny, sex addicted menace with perfect tits.''

You lean down, nose brushing his, voice low and warm, "Don't tell me you don't love it, babe."

"God help me", he sighs, one hand sliding up your back, "I really do."

He pulls you down, pressing a hot, lingering kiss to your mouth, fingers splayed across your spine, holding you close.

Your lips curve against his as you kiss him back, deeper this time, slow and lazy and soaked in that kind of morning desire that's all sleep-warm skin and bedhead and the quiet certainty of belonging.

"Just don't make me move too much", he warns between kisses, "I'm still half made of bruises. I'm very delicate".

You smile against his jaw, lips soft on his neck, "I know, my love. So delicate, so battled and bruised..." You slowly roll your hips on him, pressing your naked tits to his chest as you gently bite his bottom lip, "It's only fair I do all the work, right? Just let you lie here and watch me ride you, while I shamelessly use you for my pleasure, right?"

Eddie groans softly, big hands find your hips, palms warm and rough as they slide right on your ass, fingers slipping beneath the rim of your panties. "Sound about right", he murmurs, and you smirk against his lips before kissing him again.

"Yeah? Think you could live with that? Think you could manage?", you whisper, grinding on him again, luring a soft sound from him.

You can already feel his dick growing hard beneath you.

Heat floods your body at the new friction between you, just separated by the thin fabric of his boxers and your underwear.

"It's gonna be tough", he sighs dramatically, lips curled into a wide grin as you start to kiss down his neck, shifting in his lap, knowing exactly what you're doing, "...but I'm willing to suffer for the cause," he breathes, grin curling lazy and cocky beneath the haze of sleep and arousal.

Your laugh is low and delicious against his throat. "A noble man", you whisper, mouth brushing his pulse, "Making the ultimate sacrifice for your lady."

"I'm nothing if not a gentleman", he croaks, eyes fluttering half shut as your lips drag lower, slower, tasting the soft skin of his chest. "A gentleman who is currently being ravished."

You snort, "Don't be dramatic.''

"You took your shirt off and declared war".

You hum, fingers slipping into the waistband of his boxers, lazy and teasing as you slowly caress his trimmed pubic hair while wandering lower. "Baby, if I declared war, you'd already be dead."

He huffs, but it catches, sharp and audible, as your hand wraps around his dick, slow and possessive. His hips twitch. His fingers dig into your thighs. "You are evil", he groans, head thunking back against the pillow. "You didn't even let me pee first".

You dissolve into laughter, dropping your forehead to his chest, shaking your head, "Oh my God, Eds, what the fuck? I have your dick in my hand and you say that?"

"I'm serious", he moans theatrically, eyes still squeezed shut, "You don't respect my very basic human needs. Pee. Coffee. Then tits."

You're wheezing now, breathless, grinning as you sit up just enough to look down at him, pulling your hand away from him. "Pee, coffee, then tits. That's the order? Really?"

"It's the holy trinity", he mutters, and then gives in completely with a fond groan when you kiss him again, mouth soft and warm and apologetic, "But I guess I can make an exception..."

"You're all heart", you whisper, hips now rolling just slightly over his bulge.

"I'm all dick at the moment, actually", he says, deadpan, and you snort again, biting your lip as you shimmy your hips down and pull his boxers lower with a wicked grin.

He shudders under you, eyes snapping open finally, blown wide and dark and so very in. "Goddamn", he whispers as you toss your own panties aside and straddle him again, fully bare now, every inch of your skin flushed and glowing in the soft morning light. He props himself up on his elbows, the better to drink you in. His smile is crooked. "You're unreal", he murmurs, fingers skating up your thighs, then your waist, then settling, possessive and worshipful, at your hips.

You just smirk, slow and sleepy, as you lean down and kiss him again. Long. Deep. Hot.

Your bodies press together, skin to skin, nothing between you now.

"Shh", you whisper against his mouth, "No thinking. Just let me ruin you a little".

He groans like it's the best idea he's ever heard. "You say that like I don't want to be ruined."

"Good", you breathe, sitting back up and reaching between your bodies to grab his rockhard cock and guide it to your pussy.

You sink down on him slowly, achingly slow, drawing it out until he's cursing under his breath, his head tipping back, jaw clenched tight. You feel him stretch you open, inch by inch, until you're seated fully, flush against him, and the air between you crackles with tension.

Eddie's eyes flutter open, glassy and dark, fixed on you like you've just knocked the wind out of him. His hands clamp down on your hips like he's grounding himself. "Jesus", he mutters, head tipping back into the pillow, eyes squeezed shut, jaw slack, "Fuck, baby..."

You roll your hips just once, a slow, deliberate circle that has him groaning deep in his chest, hands tightening, pulling you down like he needs more contact, more of you. You lean forward slightly, palms on his chest, feeling his heart thudding beneath your fingers, the warmth of his skin, the tension in every muscle.

He lifts his head just enough to press his mouth to your shoulder, kissing it. His voice is low and ragged. "You're gonna kill me."

You smile, breathless, hair falling into your face. "You're so brave", you whisper, teasing, rocking gently again, a little deeper now, slow and grinding, "Taking it like a champ. Letting your horny girlfriend use you like this. So generous."

That makes him laugh, a soft, half-broken sound that turns into another groan as you roll your hips again. "I am very generous", he rasps, dragging a hand up your spine, "Selfless, even. A real fuckin' hero".

You giggle, breath catching when he shifts under you, pushing just a little deeper. "Mmm, my hero", you murmur, hands sliding up his chest, leaning forward again until your foreheads are almost touching, "You feel so good, Eds. So good. Still sleepy?"

He grins, eyes half-lidded, lips brushing yours, "Wide fuckin' awake now."

You rock your hips again, deeper this time.

His hands move to your ass, fingers pressing in, guiding your movement, encouraging it. He watches you, utterly mesmerized, like he still can't believe this is real. That you're real. That you're his.

"Look at you", he murmurs, voice thick with awe and heat, "You're... Jesus, baby."

You ride him slowly, hips rising and falling in a rhythm that's more intimate than hurried, breathy moans barely slipping past your lips as you try to stay quiet, try to keep the soft creak of the bed and the sounds of skin on skin from giving you away. One of his hands slides into your hair, gently tugging you down into a kiss, swallowing your gasp as you grind down harder.

"You feel so fucking good", he breathes, head tilted up to kiss the valley between your breasts, "Sweetheart, you're actually gonna kill me like this, fuck--"

"You can take it", you whisper, voice low and filthy, rocking forward just enough to make him hiss through his teeth.

That earns you a soft laugh, half-lost in a moan.

You continue to ride him slow and steady, the friction deep and perfect, building heat that coils low in your belly. His hands grip tighter as your pace picks up slightly, still unhurried, but more purposeful, more needy. He groans, eyes on you, watching every movement like you're some kind of dream he's afraid will vanish.

"You're a fucking dream, baby", he murmurs, "So fuckin' beautiful like this. Riding me like you own me."

You grin, flushed and breathless, hands braced on his chest as you roll your hips again, feeling how deep he is, how perfectly he fits, "I do own you, Munson."

His eyes flick up to yours, something wicked in them now. "Yes, you fucking do. God, fuck... I'm yours, and you're fucking mine, Carter."He sits up slightly, arms curling around you, pulling you flush to his chest. He kisses you hard and filthy, his tongue sliding against yours as he starts to move beneath you, matching your rhythm with careful thrusts, slow and deep, grinding up into you just right.

"Fuck... yes-", you moan into his mouth, hips stuttering, gasping when he thrusts up again, deeper this time, drawing a cry from you that you have to bite back.

He grins against your lips, breath ragged, "Gotta keep it down, baby."

"I'm trying", you pant, forehead pressed to his, "You feel too fucking good. God, yes, j-just like that... ohmygod-"

He cups the back of your head, threading his fingers through your hair, pulling you in for another kiss, swallowing your moans as he thrusts up again.

You whimper into his mouth, back arching, nails digging into his shoulders.

"That's it", he growls. "Take it. Let me fuck you slow, baby..."

You shift again, sitting up straighter, riding him deeper, grinding harder.

His eyes drop to where your bodies are joined, his mouth falling open. "Jesus Christ... look at that perfect little pussy-"

You bounce a little now, tight movements that make his breath hitch, his hands scrambling to grab at your hips, your ass, your waist, anything he can hold onto.

You're breathless, flushed, completely wrapped around him, and he's just watching you, blown wide open like he still can't believe you're his. "You're unbelievable", he gasps, voice barely more than a whisper, "Still can't fuckin' believe it."

You smirk, grinding down on him again, "Believe it, baby. You're mine. All fucking mine..."

Something snaps in him when you say that.

His eyes burn into you, and his hands grip your hips so tight it borders on bruising. He thrusts up into you harder, once, twice, and you cry out, the sound sharp, slipping past your lips before you can stop it.

"Oh, my God!"

"Say it again", he growls, his voice shredded and low, as his hips jerk up with more urgency. "Say it like you fucking mean it."

"I do--", you gasp, bouncing now, meeting every upward drive of his hips. "You're mine, baby. You're mine--"

His hand shoots up, clamping over your mouth, because your moans are getting too loud and the rhythm is getting frantic. His other hand slips around your back, keeping you close as your hips slap together in obscene, wet rhythm. You grind down hard, moaning into his palm, riding him with reckless abandon, and he's matching you thrust for thrust, his ribs be damned.

"Don't care", he hisses when you slow, worried about hurting him. "Fuck that. I need this. I need you, baby-- c'mon-"

Your nails dig into his shoulders, head thrown back as you bounce harder, faster, heat winding tight, tight, tight inside you.

His hand slides from your mouth to your jaw, dragging you down into a messy, open-mouthed kiss. He's moaning now, shameless, filthy little sounds that vibrate right into your bones.

"Gonna cum", you pant against his lips, dizzy from the way he's moving under you, from the way you're grinding, slick and soaking, every nerve ending lit up, "Eddie, baby, I'm-- fuck, please--"

He slaps a hand over your mouth again, not cruel but desperate, because you're loud, both of you are loud, and he's not about to stop. Not now.

He's watching you through hooded eyes, utterly wrecked, sweat forming on his forehead as he keeps fucking up into you, harder, deeper, chasing that edge. "Come on, baby", he groans, voice low and rough, like he's unraveling, "So close. Cum with me, yeah? Cum on me, fuckin' milk me. Take it, fuckin' take everything--"

You do. You clamp down on him with a choked cry into his palm, thighs shaking, body trembling all over as you cum hard, so hard it robs you of air, of thought.

It rolls through you in thick, hot waves, and Eddie's right there with you, his whole body going taut beneath you as he spills inside you with a broken moan, eyes squeezed shut, head buried in your neck.

His hips jerk once, twice more, like his body doesn't want to stop. Like he wants to bury himself so deep inside you, you'll feel him for days.

You both tremble through it, his hand still half-covering your mouth, fingers dug into your hips, foreheads touching. Breathing loud. Shaky. Uncontrolled.

It's filthy. Obscene. Slick and hot and tangled.

Your bodies are still twitching from aftershocks, your breaths coming in gasps with laughter slipping out between them as the tension breaks.

"Holy shit", he rasps against your throat, laughing breathlessly, voice still hoarse. "I think I saw God..."

You collapse onto him, a sweaty, gasping heap. "That wasn't God, baby. That was me."

He snorts a laugh, chest rising and falling fast, arms still wrapped tight around you, "Yeah... yeah, that tracks."

You lie there tangled in each other, soaked and sore and smiling, his heart pounding under your cheek, both of you still catching your breath, still somehow laughing through it.

His ribs might scream later. But right now, neither of you cares. Right now, it's only this, raw, reckless, and real.

Eddie's fingers stroke aimless little circles into your spine, his lips brushing against your hairline, your cheek, anywhere he can reach.

You nuzzle into him, chest still fluttering from aftershocks, cheek resting over his heart.

He shifts beneath you and groans softly. "Ugh, you're squishing my bladder", he murmurs. "And I really have to take a piss. Wasn't joking earlier."

You laugh, lifting your head just enough to look at him. His curls are damp, lips swollen, and his eyes are half-lidded with that post-orgasm daze, but his grin is already back, crooked and boyish. "You can't hold it? For like... one more year? Don't wanna move."

"I'd piss myself just to stay like this, sweetheart, but I don't think your thighs would appreciate that. And our future Mrs Harrington? She'll kill us if she finds out we fucked in her bed, imagine her face if I also pissed in it."

You snort and roll off him with dramatic flair, flopping onto your back. "Fine. Go. Be free."

He kisses your shoulder on his way up, mumbling something about feeling like a newborn deer as he stumbles on his feet, grabs his boxers and yanks them on. His eyes find you still naked in bed, and he can't help but check you out once more. "Best sex I've ever had while severely injured", he grins, and you roll your eyes.

"High bar", you tease, sitting up and tugging your underwear back on.

"Don't act like you didn't ruin me", he chuckles, still grinning as he grabs his worn short from Elena's chair and slides it back on. "I'm gonna feel you in my soul for at least a week."

"You're welcome", you sing, reaching down to the floor to grab your own shirt you threw away moments ago, shimmying it back on and running your fingers through your hair.

Once you're both halfway decent, Eddie grabs the door handle, turning to you once more with the door still closed, "So... think the others heard anything?"

You shrug, still in bed. "It's still early. Bet they're all still asleep, knocked out by too much wine and Thai food... Why, think we were loud?"

His eyebrows arch.

You squint at him.

He gives you the most deadpan, knowing look. "We? No. You? Yes. One hundred percent."

Your mouth drops open in mock offense. "Rude?"

He grins, winking at you. "Just proud, baby. Never been with someone who sings opera while cumming."

You gasp and throw a pillow after him, he dodges it and cackles, before pressing a finger to his lips, shushing you and opening the door, expecting Robin to still be fast asleep on the couch outside your door.

You watch how he pulls the door open, steps into the doorframe, and freezes.

You frown, "What?", and stand up to have a look at whatever made your boyfriend stop right in his tracks. You shuffle behind him, peak around his broad shoulders and, to your surprise, look right at Robin, who's very awake. Hair a mess, dark circles under her eyes, a glare that could kill someone on her very tired looking face.

"Oh... hi, Robs", you mumble, immediately blushing. "You're up already?"

Her voice is low, flat as she speaks. "I heard everything. Everything, Sam. And I think I'll never be the same."

You blink.

Eddie makes a quiet choking sound in front of you, clearly trying not to laugh as he looks back at your very traumatized best friend.

Robin slowly shakes her head. "I had the worst night", she whispers, "The walls are not soundproof, you know. Not at all. First, for half the night, it was these two lovebirds", she nods at the closed bedroom door of Elena's roommate, "Apparently making up to all the weeks they haven't seen each other. For hours. HOURS. And when they finally stopped, when I finally had some peace and quiet to find some well deserved rest, I'm being woken up by you two after what feels like the blink of a fucking eye?"

You snort, but a daring look of her makes you stop immediately.

"It's like being trapped in a live-action porno. With people I love. Wholesome people, I thought. Who I will never unhear anything from again."

You and Eddie exchange a look. A look that is half guilt, half holding in laughter.

Eddie leans close to your ear, whispering, "I think she's traumatized. Broken."

You elbow him in the gut, gently this time, and step out with your hands up. "Sorry, Bucks. We're gonna... make coffee. And pretend this never happened, okay?"

"Nope," Robin says, raising one finger. "This happened. You think I can ever unhear his 'milk me, take fucking everything' echoing through this apartment like a haunted sex ghost?"

Eddie snorts, covers his face.

You bite your lip, dying, blushing so hard your face feels on fire. "Oops."

"You two are disgusting", she sighs, shaking her head and giving you two a very disgusted look, scanning you two up and down. "Disgusting!"

Eddie's hand finds yours as you both step into the living room, and he squeezes it like this is the funniest shit he's ever witnessed.

He's not even trying to hide the grin anymore, wide and smug, full of dimples and trouble.

"Milk me", he repeats under his breath, eyes sparkling, "Can't even remember I said that?"

You slap a hand over your face, mortified, "Please never repeat that again."

Robin throws a cushion at you, "Please never say that again!"

"I didn't say it!", you protest, ducking behind Eddie like he's a human shield, "That was all him!"

"Oh, and you were just an innocent bystander?" she fires back. "Sounded like you were possessed by some kind of orgasm demon, Samantha."

Eddie barks a laugh, way too delighted. "New band name. Dibs!"

Robin glares at him. "You don't get to be proud right now, Munson. You were complicit. You both were. Loudly. Enthusiastically. Like, cheerleader with pom-poms level enthusiasm."

He grins, not even a little bit ashamed, "Can't help it. She's very inspirational."

"Eddie!" you shriek, smacking his arm, face burning.

"I'm just saying!", he laughs, lifting both hands, "You started it. You climbed on me. I was an injured man. Helpless. Used for your pleasure. Your words."

"You were not helpless", you mutter, cheeks on fire.

Robin slumps dramatically back into the couch cushions, covering her eyes. "I've got PTSD. Post-Traumatic Sex Disorder. I need earplugs. Therapy. Maybe a lobotomy."

You lean over the back of the couch, gently patting her tangled hair. "Want us to buy you breakfast? Coffee? Lifetime supply of earplugs?"

"Too late. The damage is done", she sighs, opens one eye to squint at you.

"Robs, come on, forgive us", you chuckle, sharing another amused glance with Eddie who's stepping closer.

Your best friend lets out a strangled sound and flops fully onto her stomach like she's given up on life.

"Okay, okay", you chuckle, voice still hushed, "We'll behave. We'll be so quiet you'll forget we're even here."

Robin mumbles into the cushions. "I'll forget nothing. It's burned into my brain. Your fucking war cries. Eddie's filth. The creaking. The rhythm. The fucking tempo change?"

"I hate this", you whisper, hiding your face behind Eddie's back.

"I liked the tempo change", Eddie murmurs, nodding to himself.

You shove him toward the bathroom. "Go away, you menace."

Your boyfriend cackles and closes the bathroom door behind him, you snort, shake your head and head into the kitchen to make some coffee.

Moments later, the bathroom door creaks open again and Eddie steps back into the kitchen, toothbrush sticking out of his mouth, hair even messier than before, curls wild and cocky.

He's got that smug, post-fuck glow and he's milking it, swagger in his limp, grinning like the devil himself.

His eyes find you bent over by the coffee maker, your bare legs peeking from beneath his oversized shirt, hair still a tangled halo. He makes a pleased sound around his toothbrush and leans against the doorway, watching you like you hung the stars.

You glance over your shoulder, cheeks still tinged pink. "What?"

"Nothing", he mumbles around the toothbrush, foam at the corner of his mouth, "Just admiring my war bride."

You roll your eyes, turning back to the coffee maker and muttering, "Maybe we should wash Elena's sheets right away, before she even wakes up."

"You mean before Robin tells her everything we did on them?"

You glance toward the couch, where Robin flips you both off without even lifting her head. "It's already too late", she mumbles, "I'm a witness to a war crime. Leave me alone, I'm trying to process my trauma."

Eddie laughs as he disappears back into the bathroom, water running while you wait for the coffee to finish brewing, sneaking into Elena's tiny closet space and finding her laundry basket, grabbing fresh sheets to replace the ones currently steeped in shame and... well, evidence, before heading back into the bedroom to change them and open her window to get rid of the sticky sex air still lingering in here.

You're just finished when Eddie leaves the bathroom, the coffee maker beeping in the kitchen just in time for him to immediately head there and pour three cups of coffee.

Wordlessly, he hands one to Robin, still on the couch.

She narrows her eyes at him. "Did you even wash your hands?"

He tilts his head, thinking, "Like... within the last three days?"

Robin nearly gags.

'Then yes", he replies brightly, taking a sip of his coffee and grinning, "Absolutely."

"Disgusting", she mutters, but she sips the coffee anyway.

You snort, shaking your head as you pass them by to quickly head for the bathroom as well. Inside, you freshen up, brush your teeth and throw your hair up, still in just your underwear and the long shirt you stole from Eddie.

Back in the kitchen, you grab your cup of coffee from Eddie's hand, leaning against the counter and taking a sip, humming at the taste and glancing at your boyfriend, who's already smirking at you.

You know he's about to say something stupid again, but just then, the unmistakable sound of a bed creak splits through the silence.

You freeze.

Eddie stops mid-sip.

Robin's eyes go wide above the rim of her mug.

Then: moaning.

Long, breathy, very enthusiastic moaning.

"Oh my god", Robin whispers, setting her cup down slowly.

"Maybe it's...", you start, hopeful.

And then comes Steve's voice, very, very clear, echoing right through the thin bedroom door.

"You like that, baby? Yeah?"

You stare at the bedroom door.

Robin slaps her hands over her ears. "NO!"

Eddie bursts out laughing. "Oh my god, it's like sex Mad Libs in this apartment."

Another creak, louder this time.

Elena moans something incoherent.

Robin glares toward the bedroom, her face a perfect combination of disbelief and pain. "I just got done hearing you two. Do I not deserve peace? Sanctuary?"

She stands from the couch, heading further away from the bedroom door, and you all instinctively shuffle to the dining table, as far from the source of the sounds as possible, clutching your coffee cups like lifelines.

Robin sits, her hands pressed over her ears, muttering, "I'm not even Catholic and I feel like I need to go to confession."

You hide your burning face in your mug, shoulders shaking with laughter, even as you blush to the tips of your ears.

Eddie, of course, is thriving. Just lounging in his chair like this is the best sitcom he's ever watched, sipping his coffee, lighting a cigarette.

"Think if we turn on the radio, we can drown them out?" you whisper.

He raises his eyebrows, grinning. "Only if we blast the heaviest metal".

Another creak. Then a rhythmic thud.

Elena's voice, breathy and loud.

"Oh my God, right there, don't stop!"

Robin lets out a noise somewhere between a scream and a sob and slams her forehead on the table. "Why? Why is everyone in this house so horny? I'm gonna die. I'm gonna actually die."

Eddie is howling, nearly spitting out his coffee."Oh my God, they're Olympic-level. They're not even trying to be quiet."

You're on your feet again, embarrassed by what you're hearing, heading to the kitchen and desperately fumbling for the little kitchen radio on the counter, flipping dials and pressing buttons with trembling fingers.

Nothing happens.

It stays dead, no matter how many times you smack it.

"Please", you whisper, "I'll donate blood, I'll never sin again, just work!"

From the bedroom, more sounds and dirty talk are filling the apartment, amusing your boyfriend even more as he smokes his cigarette.

You turn back to him, eyes wide as you listen to Steve's muffled voice.

"You're so hot, baby. Just like that. Oh, fuck, what are you-... holy shit-- yes, fucking take it--"

"NOPE!", Robin shrieks, shooting to her feet like her chair just caught fire. She covers her ears again and starts pacing like she's trapped in a horror movie. "I have PTSD. I have auditory PTSD. I slept in here last night while this was happening!"

Eddie is wheezing now, absolutely unhinged. "Oh my god, it's like we're in a porn haunted house. Every room? Cursed. Every bed? Used. There's no hope for us."

You groan into your coffee, somewhere between mortified and hysterical, your whole body flushed with secondhand embarrassment as you lean against the kitchen counter. "This is so bad. We're gonna have to salt and burn this whole apartment".

Robin is rocking herself now. "I'm hearing voices", she whispers, "Moans. Heterosexual dirty talk. I'm having vivid flashbacks of you two, Eddie, groaning 'milk me'. You think that just goes away?!"

"Could've been worse", Eddie shrugs, exhaling smoke, "I was holding back". He grins at you, you glare back, but you're laughing, hiding your face in your mug to muffle it.

Another moan echoes from the bedroom, Elena this time, sounding wrecked.

The rhythm of the bed is downright terrifying now.

Robin screams. "NOPE! I'm out!" She grabs her mug and stomps off, locking herself in the bathroom like she's taking refuge in a bomb shelter. You hear the lock click and then muffled shouting, "DO NOT LET ANYONE ELSE HAVE SEX WHILE I'M ALIVE!"

You and Eddie dissolve into laughter, him now flicking his cigarette butt into the ashtray, standing up with his coffee and heading over to you, dark eyes wandering over your face as you watch him coming closer. He wiggles his eyebrows at you, cocky as ever as he puts his mug down, nodding at the bedroom door. "Kinda hot though, huh?"

You snort, choking on your drink. "You're such a perv."

But he's already stepping in front of you, hand sliding on your side as he grins, "You're into it. You're so into it, look at how flushed you are, baby."

"Eddie--"

He doesn't even wait for you to finish whatever you wanted to say, leans in and kisses you like he's got nothing to lose, all cocky affection and soft lips. His hands find your ass under the hem of his shirt, squeezing shamelessly.

"You're insane", you giggle against his mouth, grinning despite yourself.

"I'm in love", he murmurs, kissing you again, "Big difference."

From the bedroom, another moan.

Then Steve, groaning loudly.

"That's it, baby, take every inch, holy shit--"

You slap your hand over Eddie's mouth before he can cackle again.

He just looks at you with stars in his eyes, laughing behind your palm, licking it to make you yelp and pull your hand away again.

His hands are on your waist before you realize what he's doing. "C'mon", he murmurs, laughing as he lifts you up and sets you on the counter, "Might as well enjoy the background music."

You squeal and swat at his shoulder. "Eds!"

But he's already kissing you again, grinning wide, pressing his body between your thighs like it's the most natural thing in the world.

The sound of Steve and Elena's very loud, very theatrical finale echoes from behind the closed bedroom door.

Eddie breaks the kiss to chuckle. "I've always been more turned on by the audio in porn anyway."

You choke on a laugh, trying to squirm away, but his hands are firm on your thighs, holding you there like you're not going anywhere. "You really are unbelievable", you gasp.

He's laughing, hot and shameless, mouth trailing back to yours with a low groan, "No, they're unbelievable. I mean, come on, listen to that stamina."

Elena lets out a long, wrecked moan.

Steve groans something like "Keep going, just like that, fuck yeah!"

You hide your face in Eddie's neck, giggling uncontrollably. "Please stop", you whisper, breathless from laughter.

"I'm just saying", Eddie mumbles into your ear, voice low and teasing as he grinds his hips forward just a little, making your thighs tighten around him, "We sounded way hotter than that. We're, like, award-winning-level. The real stars of this porn haunted house."

You snort into his mouth as he kisses you again. "You're the worst. The actual worst."

He grins against your lips, his hands slipping under the hem of your shirt to grab a handful of your ass, making you squeak and wrap your arms tighter around his shoulders.

From behind that cursed, thin bedroom door, Steve lets out a groan so loud, it rattles your soul.

"Fuck, babe, just like that, oh my god, YES!"

Elena whimpers something incoherent, high-pitched and absolutely not subtle.

Eddie pauses, lifts his eyebrows like he's hearing the final act of a symphony.

You stare at him with your eyes big and mouth open.

Then it hits, both of them at once.

Like a damn sonic boom.

Steve lets out one last, broken "Jesus CHRIST", and Elena chokes out a hoarse, ecstatic cry that echoes through the entire apartment.

There's a beat of stunned silence.

Eddie blinks.

"...Well", he grins, smug as hell, "Guess the show's over."

You snort and slap a hand over your mouth to stop from laughing harder. "Babe, you're awful."

"Don't act like you're not turned on", he teases, giving your thigh a squeeze, "That was practically surround sound. I mean, if I close my eyes, it's like I'm in the porn."

You roll your eyes, shoving at his shoulder.

He grins wickedly. "What? Just appreciating the artistry."

You giggle again, biting your lip, face hot, still wrapped around him like an idiot.

His hands slide up under your shirt, and he leans in to kiss you again, messy and lazy and way too smug.

The bathroom door creaks open. Robin steps out slowly like she's emerging from a war bunker.

Her eyes land on the two of you immediately - you still on the counter, Eddie between your legs, both of you pink-cheeked and clearly up to no good.

She halts. Squints. Speaks flatly.

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

You snort again, nearly choke.

Eddie doesn't even move, just smirks at her over his shoulder.

"We're not doing anything!" you protest through laughter.

Robin blinks. "You're on the kitchen counter."

"I'm just sitting here!" you argue, cheeks on fire.

Eddie shrugs, completely unbothered, grinning at her like a gremlin. "We're just talking, Buckley. God."

Robin glares. "You're inside her soul, Munson. Don't 'just talking' me."

You lift both hands in surrender, still cackling, your thighs clenching around Eddie instinctively, "We're not doing anything! I swear!"

Robin groans and slaps a hand over her eyes. "I hate this house. I hate everything in it."

Eddie grins like a devil, leans in, and plants a final kiss on your lips, just to mess with her, soft, smug, and exaggeratedly romantic. Then he lets go, grabs his coffee, still chuckling like it's the best morning he's ever had.

You hop down, smoothing your shirt, trying to look innocent even though your face is still flushed and your hair's a mess. You grab your own mug and lean against the counter, exhaling slowly.

Robin joins you a moment later, groaning into her coffee. "I'm gonna go live in the woods. Alone. Celibate."

You pat her back sympathetically while Eddie sips his drink with all the swagger of a man who caused permanent emotional damage and is proud of it.

Then, the door to Elena's room opens.

Steve emerges first.

Shirtless, his hair in full lion's mane chaos, proudly smirking like the cat who ate several canaries.

Behind him, Elena appears, hair just as wild, cheeks flushed, wearing Steve's shirt.

She's grinning like she just saw God.

You nearly spit your coffee.

The horror on Robin's face reaches catastrophic levels.

Eddie just raises his mug and grins at them.

Steve swaggers into the kitchen like he owns the damn place, his chest bare and hairy, his face glowing with the self-satisfaction of a man who knows exactly how loud he was - and doesn't regret a second of it.

"Morning", he says, way too casually, voice hoarse in the most incriminating way. He snatches an apple from the fruit bowl like he didn't just absolutely destroy Elena five feet away from the breakfast nook.

Behind him, Elena steps closer, practically floating, wearing a dazed, post-orgasmic smile. Her legs are bare under Steve's shirt. Her hair looks like it fought a tornado and lost. She blinks at you all, then gives a sheepish little wave. "Hi, guys."

Robin whimpers into her mug.

You, barely holding it together, press your hand over your mouth as you look between them. "You guys... okay?" you manage, voice a little strangled.

Steve bites into his apple with a smug crunch. "Better than okay." He winks at Elena, who giggles and hides her face against his arm.

Robin sets her mug down with a loud thunk, turns around, and stares out the window like she's contemplating walking directly into the nearest lake. "I am in hell", she says quietly, "And I miss Vickie."

Eddie leans over to you, still chuckling, "Told you it was a cursed fuck den."

You elbow him in the ribs again, but this time he barely flinches.

He's glowing. Thriving. Living his best, most chaotic life.

Elena pads into the kitchen like she doesn't know the air is thick with the memory of moaning and creaking bed springs. "Did we... uh. Wake anyone?"

Robin spins around, eyes bloodshot, "Wanna guess?"

Elena winces. "Oops"

"Oops?", Robin echoes, "Oops? I had to lock myself in the bathroom with the fan on and still heard everything! It was like someone was playing the director's cut on max volume."

Steve throws his head back and laughs, "That's showmanship."

"Oh my god", Robin mutters, rubbing her temples.

Eddie salutes them with his coffee, grinning like an imp. "Hell of a finale, though. Real production value."

You cough into your mug to hide your laughter. "Seriously. Did you guys have, like, a script?"

Steve shrugs, totally unfazed. "We improv. And I'm not letting you two nymphomaniacs comment on any of that. Now you know what we all had to suffer through with you two around"

Robin stares at the ceiling like she's asking for divine intervention.

Elena is red-faced but giggling, grabbing a mug and nudging Steve to make her coffee. "Guess we owe you some earplugs, mh?"

Robin doesn't answer. She just sighs dramatically, picks up her coffee, and walks toward the balcony muttering, "Gonna jump. Tell the world my legacy was sex trauma."

Eddie leans in close to you again, murmuring, "Best morning ever."

You shake your head, cheeks aching from smiling, and steal another sip of his coffee just to annoy him. He doesn't even care, just watches you like you hung the damn stars.

Meanwhile, Steve and Elena start whispering and giggling again, hands all over each other. He's got one arm slung around her waist as she sips her coffee, tucked against his side. He keeps brushing her hair back from her face, thumb grazing her cheek, and even though she's a little shy about the attention, her smile is radiant. Glowing.

You've never seen her look so open.

Eddie, of course, notices immediately, and can't help himself. "So", he starts, leaning one elbow on the counter and fixing Steve with a grin, "is she your girlfriend now?"

Steve chokes on his bite of apple, coughing dramatically. "What? I-- what kind of- what kind of childish question is that?"

Elena hides her face in his arm, laughing. Her cheeks are scarlet.

You snort into your coffee, watching with a wicked grin as Eddie leans in further, eating up the awkward panic on Steve's face.

"I'm just asking, man. You can't let go of her. Can't stop staring at her. You ruined her. And my ears. Seems like a girlfriend move."

Elena giggles harder, and you meet her eyes, exchanging one of those wordless, girl-to-girl glances full of teasing and warmth.

You raise your brows.

She shakes her head, eyes wide, but she's grinning and pink as hell.

"I hate you", Steve mutters to Eddie, not even sounding mad.

"Not as much as you love her", Eddie shoots back, nudging him with a smirk.

Steve glares at him but immediately turns to look at Elena again, like he can't help himself. His hand slides to her hip, fingers drumming there gently. His eyes are soft. Ridiculously soft.

Robin rolls her eyes so hard it's a miracle they don't get stuck. "God, you two are gross. But, like... good gross, I guess. About time someone tamed the Harrington horn."

Steve flips her off.

Elena's smile only grows.

But even as Robin pretends to be annoyed, you can tell she's happy. It's in the way she glances between them when they're not looking, the way she lets herself smile behind her mug. She's known Steve a long time, seen him with a lot of girls. But this, this feels different.

Elena doesn't just make him want to show off, she makes him soft. She slows him down. Grounds him.

"Okay, enough", you finally scold Eddie, nudging him with your hip, "Let them have their gross little honeymoon phase in peace."

He grins, lifting his hands in surrender, and mutters to Steve. "Still gonna ask for a wedding invite, man."

You roll your eyes, sipping your coffee again, heart full from all the laughter and heat and friendship swirling in the kitchen.

The teasing.

The kisses.

The easy way you all fit together, even in your messiness. Even after the long night.

Even after the chaos.

It's too easy to forget about it.

Too easy to get caught in this bright, warm morning, this surreal feeling like maybe everything really could be okay.

But then it hits you.

Why you're all here.

It's like a fog rolls in, icy and quiet, pushing the joy to the edges of your brain.

Your chest tightens.

You're not here just to hang out. Not just for the jokes and the teasing and the sleepovers and the sex.

No.

You're here because Billy's father went after you, threatened you, hurt you.

Because Eddie brought you away from the danger, the unsafeness of your hometown, and you ended up in Indianapolis to hide.

Because the man hasn't been found yet.

And your best friends came after you the second you finally called them and told them where you are.

That's why you're here.

You blink.

Your breath stutters just slightly.

Eddie's hand grazes your lower back, casual and familiar, but you lean just a little more into it this time. Like grounding yourself to him will keep the cold from creeping in.

He glances at you, sensing the shift, and the amusement in his eyes softens. His hand lingers, rubs slow and careful circles against your spine again.

You try to smile again. Try to hold onto the light.

But the memory is there now, lingering.

Like a shadow you can't unsee.

The smile slips from your face so fast, you don't even feel it happening, just a quiet drop in your chest, a sudden stillness as the warm buzz of laughter and teasing fades to a low, dull hum.

It's like someone turned the volume down on the world.

You're still standing there, mug in hand, leaning against the counter while Eddie sips from his coffee like the smug menace he is.

Robin is half-draped over the balcony railing like she's actually considering a life in the wilderness.

Steve and Elena are locked in their bubble of soft giggles and half-whispered flirtations, tucked against each other like they're made of magnets.

Your heart stutters.

The mug suddenly feels too heavy in your hands, the warmth of the ceramic burning instead of soothing.

You blink down at it, like maybe it'll explain why your lungs are so tight now, why the air feels so sharp.

Eddie senses it before you can say anything. His gaze flicks to your face again. "Baby?" he murmurs, leaning in, voice low and close, "What is it?"

You shake your head quickly, like you can shake the thoughts out too. "Nothing", you whisper, "I'm... okay."

But you're not.

And he knows it.

He shifts to block the others from seeing you, one hand sliding to your waist, grounding you. "Hey", he says gently, "Talk to me."

You shake your head, open your mouth to answer him, to tell him you just remembered why you're here.

But all of a sudden, the world just drops.

One second you're in a kitchen, sunlight warm on your skin, laughter echoing faint in your ears, Eddie's hands on your waist, his warm eyes locked with yours.

You should be okay. You should feel okay.

But the warmth slips through your fingers like sand, impossible to hold onto.

Something sharp wedges itself in your mind, and all at once, the walls inside you begin to crack.

You're not in Indianapolis anymore.

You're not in this safe apartment with the people who love you.

You're standing in a parking lot.

It's dark.

You can smell it first.

The whiskey. The sweat. The breath that scorches your skin like acid.

The weight of fear settles heavy in your lungs before you can take a full breath.

You blink, and there he is.

Neil fucking Hargrove, right in front of you, just inches from your face.

His bloodshot eyes burn with something feral. Something cruel.

You feel your back hit the car behind you all over again, the slam of metal against your spine like an echo ripping through your chest.

"You always thought you were better than us."

Your hands start to tremble.

No, they're already trembling.

You remember that part too clearly.

That helpless, aching shake that started in your fingers and bloomed up through your arms, like your body knew what was coming before your mind could catch up.

"You think they're gonna side with some used-up little whore?"

The words are knives.

You feel them again, cutting through the thin shield of memory you try to keep wrapped around that moment.

Your heart thuds like it's trying to beat its way out of your chest.

You're frozen. Can't move.

Can't breathe.

He steps closer again.

You're locked in your own head.

It won't stop, because your mind doesn't care that it's morning, or that your friends are laughing, or that Eddie is touching you, frowning now, asking what's wrong again.

You're frozen. Your breath shallow and sharp. Your eyes don't blink. Don't move.

They're wide open, too open, fixed on nothing.

Eddie's voice hits first. Muffled. Faraway.

"Hey, hey, baby? Sam?"

Then the panic.

His voice rising.

Hands on your shoulders. On your cheeks. Shaking you gently, then more urgently.

"Sam. Sam. Look at me. Please, baby, please, look at me. What's going on?"

You don't move.

You don't feel.

You just see.

Across the room, Robin and Elena go quiet mid-conversation. Steve freezes, turning toward you.

Your body doesn't move.

You're trembling, eyes wide and unfocused, breath hitching like your lungs can't remember what to do. Tears are falling, silent and steady.

You're somewhere else now. Somewhere terrifying.

Eddie grabs your shoulders, panic blooming in his chest.

"Hey, hey - look at me. Come back."

You don't blink. Don't respond. Don't breathe right. He calls your name again, louder.

"Sam!"

Nothing.

All you see is Neil Hargrove's hand, you literally see it, slamming against the trunk beside your head, and even though it's not happening now, not really, you flinch.

Right there in the kitchen.

You don't feel the coffee cup in your hands anymore. You don't feel Eddie.

You feel him. His shadow. His voice. The heat of his rage. The threat.

"Maybe I'll do what my son didn't get the chance to."

You don't hear Eddie calling your name.

You hear Neil's breath.

You feel his hand around your wrist, twisting, crushing, the pain flaring so hot it turned your vision white that night, and now it returns, ghostlike but real enough to make your entire arm throb.

Your body curls inward without thinking.

You're not even in the moment anymore, but your body remembers.

And then it gets worse.

Because another voice cuts in.

A different one, but just as cruel.

Billy.

"You give me one night. Just one. That's the deal."

He's there now too. In your head. Your mind. Your memory.

His voice mixing with Neil's like a poisonous duet looping through your brain.

You feel the motel railing dig into your back again. The stale scent of smoke wrapped around him like armor. The low, smug curl of his voice as he stepped in too close.

"You want me to spell it out? You give me what I want, I give you what you want."

You blink, but it's not a blink at all, it's a shudder, your whole body twitching like it's trying to shake itself free from something that's already sunk its claws in deep.

Billy's words won't stop.

You can feel his breath on your cheek, the way he leaned in, the way you begged him for anything else.

"I don't care if you don't want it."

You gasp. You don't mean to. It's not loud. Not even audible. But it's there. A tiny, broken sound.

Because it's too much.

Because you can feel his hands again. His mouth. The pressure. The force.

Because you didn't want it and he knew that, and it didn't fucking matter.

"You're mine."

You hear it again. Feel it again.

And it doesn't matter that Eddie's right there, calling you, touching you, trying to bring you back, because your mind is stuck in hell.

Your pupils flicker.

You don't see the room anymore.

You see parking lot asphalt. You see motel balcony railing. You see teeth. Eyes. Fingers digging too tight.

You hear the venom in both their voices like they're speaking directly into your soul, trying to hollow you out, burn their names into your skin.

You're shaking. Crying.

But you're silent.

Staring at nothing.

Not breathing right. Not blinking.

And Eddie is panicking now.

You can hear his voice on the very edge of your senses, calling your name, rising in pitch, getting frantic.

You want to answer him. You do.

But you can't.

You're locked in the memory, buried alive in it, cold sweat slick on your skin as the pressure builds and builds,

"Sam, please, what's going on?!"

You want to move. You want to reach for him.

But Neil's still shouting. Billy's still whispering.

"You're nothing."

"You'll do it anyway. You have to."

"I should've hurt you."

"I know you don't want it."

Your breath comes sharp and ragged now, almost a sob.

But you still don't move.

And Eddie - sweet, desperate Eddie - is holding your face now, pressing his forehead to yours, tears welling in his eyes.

Something cracks.

Maybe it's the sound of Steve saying your name too.

Or the way Robin's voice breaks when she calls, "What's going on with her? Sam? What's happening here?"

Or maybe it's just Eddie's touch, trembling but firm.

You come back.

All at once.

You snap back like your soul's been yanked through a keyhole.

You flinch so hard it nearly knocks Eddie backward, your whole body curling away from him like you're still being held down, still being threatened.

"Don't touch me!" you gasp, voice torn from your throat like it hurts to use, "Don't... don't-- please, don't--"

Your eyes are wide. Haunted. Your limbs trembling like they might never stop. Your body is shaking so hard, your teeth chatter.

You don't feel the motel anymore.

You don't hear the cars outside.

You don't see Eddie.

All you see is Neil Hargrove.All you feel is Billy's breath on your face.All you hear are those voices.

"Just some whore."

"Maybe I'll do what my son didn't get the chance to."

"Fake it. I don't give a fuck if you don't want it."

You're not in the present anymore.

You're not safe.

You're not surrounded by people who love you.

You're back in that empty parking lot. Back against your car. Back under the weight of a man's fury. Back inside a twisted game of control, manipulation, blackmail.

You're drowning.

Someone's calling your name, but it sounds like it's coming from the bottom of a well.

"Sam, baby, you hear me?"

Your name cracks in the air, desperate, sharp. But it doesn't reach you.

Your legs are locked. Arms wrapped around your middle.

You're rocking.

You don't realize it until someone gasps.

You hear them, Robin sobbing, Steve trying to pull her back, Elena's voice telling them to give you space.

They don't understand. They can't.

You flinch when movement catches your eye.

Eddie. He's coming closer. Slowly. Carefully. Hands out like you're a wounded animal, like he doesn't want to scare you.His voice is barely above a whisper.

"Babe. It's me. It's me, sweetheart. I'm right here. I'm not gonna hurt you."

But you don't see Eddie.

You see Billy's smirk.

Neil's hand slamming beside your head.The weight of powerlessness crushing your chest.

You back up, stumbling, hitting the kitchen counter behind you.

Your breath is shallow and fast.

You're suffocating.

"Don't-", you sob, voice hoarse and cracking, "Don't touch me. Please. I don't want this-- I-- I don't want any of this. Just leave me alone-- Let- Let me go. Please, Billy, leave me alone!"

Robin makes a choked sound, like someone just punched the air from her lungs. Steve grips her arms tighter as she starts to move, starts to reach for you, but he knows. He knows she can't touch you right now.

You look like a ghost.

A shell.

And Eddie... he looks like he's dying. His heart is breaking in slow motion right in front of them. Still, he doesn't stop. Slowly, carefully, he's moving toward you, eyes watery, filled with so much pain. "Sam, it's me. Eddie", he whispers again, voice shaking like a leaf in a storm. "You're safe. I swear to god, you're safe. It's just me. It's just me, angel. You're not there anymore. You're not with him. You're here. With me. Look at me. Please, look at me."

Your eyes dart wildly. Pupils huge. Sweat clinging to your skin. You're shaking so hard now you're practically vibrating.

"I'm scared", you whisper, tears falling down your face, eyes still clouded, still not back to reality, "I'm so scared. He's not gone... He- He's not gone, I feel him, I feel him still, I can't... I can't breathe-- I can't--"

Eddie's hand finds yours.

You scream.

It shreds through the room like a blade.

You fight him off with every ounce of energy you have left, shoving, kicking, scratching.

But he doesn't let go. He doesn't run. He holds you. Strong arms wrapping around you like a blanket in a blizzard, like armor.

You beat your fists against his chest, but he takes it. Whispers into your hair."I know, baby. I know. I've got you. I've got you. He can't hurt you anymore. I swear on everything, he'll never fucking touch you again. I'm here. I'm here. Please come back to me... It's me, Sam. Just me."

His tears drip onto your cheek, warm and soft.

His scent is everywhere. His warmth, mixed with cigarette smoke and the faintest trace of his cologne.

The others don't speak. Robin covers her mouth to stifle her sobs, clinging to Steve's arm. Elena stares at you, pale and shocked. Steve's jaw is clenched so tight, it's a miracle it doesn't break.

You sob into Eddie's shirt. Your fists sink down, your fight stops. Not because it's over. Because it's not. It never fucking ends.

But Eddie rocks you.Back and forth.Back and forth.And he cries with you, whispering your name. His scent, his love, his warmth surrounding you.

Slowly, it cuts through the nightmare.

The fog dissolves.

"Eds", you sob, the word ripped from your chest like it's been trying to claw its way out for hours. Your voice is broken, soaked in pain, but real.

You're back.

Eddie's arms tighten around you instantly, like he's afraid if he loosens his grip for even a second, you'll disappear again. "I'm here, baby. I'm right here", he whispers into your hair, his voice cracking under the weight of relief and devastation.

You cling to him, your fists bunching the fabric of his shirt like it's your only lifeline.

Your body still trembles, but the panic, the sheer terror, it's retreating now, slowly bleeding out of your system in waves of gasping breaths and hot, quiet sobs.

"I thought--", your voice breaks as your fingers dig into his back, "I thought I was gone. I...I couldn't get out, Eds, I couldn't--"

"Shhh, shhh, it's okay. You're safe now. You're safe, I've got you, you don't have to go through it alone. Never again."

He rocks you gently, over and over, like he's trying to rock away the ghosts in your mind.

You bury your face in his chest, and for a long moment, there's nothing else.

Just his heartbeat. His warmth. His scent.

Him.

Trembling, your legs finally give out, the strength draining from your body like someone pulled a plug. You sag forward with a whimper, but Eddie's there, catching you instantly, his arms wrapping around your waist as you collapse into him.

He moves fast, gently but firmly guiding you out of the kitchen, carrying you more than leading, all the way to the couch.

You barely register the motion.

You're weightless and heavy all at once, your limbs jelly and concrete. Your vision blurs, your ears ringing faintly, but you feel the second he sits down, feel his body surround yours, pulling you against his chest, almost into his lap. His lips find your temple, your forehead, your damp cheeks, every kiss trembling and desperate.

You're curled into him like a child, face buried in his chest, legs bare and shaking, tangled over his lap.

He cradles you like something sacred.

The others follow. Robin is the first to reach you, her whole face crumpled in worry. She crouches in front of the couch, eyes red, chest heaving like she's still trying to breathe through the panic. "What the fuck was that?" she whispers, voice cracking. Her hands tremble in the air like she wants to touch you but doesn't dare, "Sam, what... what just happened?"

Elena is beside her, her usually calm eyes wide with shock, trying to find her voice. "It was a flashback," she finally breathes, "A severe one. PTSD. Dissociation. It-- it was bad. That was... that was really bad."

Robin nods slowly, eyes never leaving your face. Her hand inches forward, hesitates, then gently brushes the sweat-matted hair from your forehead. Her fingers are freezing, and you flinch, but you don't pull away.

You don't have the energy to. You just lean deeper into Eddie's chest, your body sagging into his hold like you're trying to disappear inside him.

Elena disappears for a moment, then returns with a cold Coke. "Here," she murmurs, kneeling beside you, "This'll help with the shaking. Just a few sips, okay?" She tries to pass it to you, but you barely lift your head, eyes fluttering shut.

Eddie grabs the can from her, popping it open. "C'mon, baby," he murmurs, rubbing your back, "Drink this. Just a little, yeah?"

You shake your head weakly, tears still slipping down your cheeks. "Don't wanna," you mumble, voice hoarse and wrecked, "So tired."

His hand cups your jaw, thumb stroking over your cheek as he holds the can to your lips. "You gotta drink something, sweetheart. Just a sip. Please, for me."

You turn your face away, but he doesn't stop.

"Please," he repeats, softer this time, "Just a little. It'll help. I promise."

You whimper again, but your lips part. Just enough. He tips the can gently, guiding the cold, fizzy sip past your lips. You flinch, coughing a little, but he soothes you instantly, hand back on your spine, holding you close. "That's it. Good girl. That's my girl. Come on, another one."

And slowly... a little of the shaking fades.

You sob again, eyelids fluttering as you give in to the exhaustion, and immediately fall asleep.

Just like that.

One moment you're shaking, crumbling in Eddie's arms, and the next - gone.

Your body gives out under the weight of it all, your limbs slackening, breath hiccuping into stillness. Your head lulls against Eddie's chest, his heartbeat the last thing you register before darkness wraps you in its hands.

Eddie doesn't move. Not once. He stays seated there on the couch, arms wrapped around you like a shield, one hand curled around your side, the other cradling the back of your head.

You're tucked into him like you belong there, and he doesn't dare breathe too loud in case it wakes you.

His chin rests lightly on top of your head. His eyes don't stray from your face. Not even when his throat burns and his vision blurs again.

Robin gets up, steps away, wiping at her eyes across the room. Steve lets go of Elena, who now seems to have gathered herself again, only to head for his best friend to collect her, too. Without a word, he pulls her into a hug, keeps glancing over at you with that same helpless, guilt-ridden look that hasn't left his face since the second you collapsed.

He doesn't know what to say anymore. None of them do.

The apartment is hushed, but filled with tension. Exhaustion. A quiet kind of heartbreak.

Robin lifts her head from Steve's shoulder, looks at Elena, the only one who may have some more answers due to her psych study.

"That flashback... What was that?"

Elena breathes out slowly, like it's hard to find the words. "PTSD", she says softly, "A trauma response. It's a memory loop. Her brain doesn't know it's over yet. It's trying to protect her, even if it hurts."

Eddie winces. Like the words physically strike him. His jaw clenches. "She was so scared." His voice breaks. "She couldn't breathe".

"She doesn't need a hospital'', Elena tries to calm, understanding the question without him asking, "Not unless it gets worse. She needs rest. Time. Safety. And love. She needs this to be over."

Steve nods silently, pulling Robin into his arm a little tighter. She doesn't resist. She leans into him like she's needed that hug all day.

Elena disappears for a minute and comes back with a blanket, gently draping it over you, tucking the edges around your legs, careful not to disturb your sleep. She hands Eddie another coffee, sets a fresh cigarette between his fingers.

They smoke together, quietly, like it's the only thing left they can do.

Her eyes flick to you every few seconds. Still asleep. Still shaking, every once in a while. A wince. A tremble. A twitch.

Eddie feels every one. He's there with a kiss to your forehead, a brush of his thumb across your cheek, a whispered word only you can hear.

You sleep for an hour.

But it's not peaceful.

At one point, you gasp softly in your sleep, curling tighter into Eddie. A flicker of a nightmare starting to bloom. His hand moves instantly, slow strokes along your arm, the back of your neck, soothing, grounding. "You're okay", he whispers, again and again, "You're safe. I'm here."

And eventually, the tremors settle.

The others have all taken spots nearby, on the couch, the floor, blankets and pillows strewn around like some makeshift camp.

A fortress around you.

Robin's head rests on Steve's shoulder, her eyes half-closed. Elena sits cross-legged on the floor, watching the way Eddie never lets go of you.

They talk softly. What happens next. How to help you. How to keep you from slipping like that again.

Then, you shift. Just slightly. A crease appears between your brows.

Your eyes flutter.

The first thing you feel is Eddie's arms around you. His hand in your hair. The smell of smoke and coffee on his shirt. The low thrum of his heart against your cheek.

You open your eyes slowly.

Your whole body feels like it's underwater, heavy, slow, aching. Your lashes are still wet, cheeks sticky from tears, and Eddie's shirt clings to your skin where you've burrowed into his chest.

You're cradled against him, your legs tangled over his lap, your body wrapped in the cocoon of his arms and Elena's soft blanket.

There's a steady rise and fall under your cheek, his breathing, calm now, steady.

Protective.

You blink again.

The room is dimmer now. Someone must've drawn the curtains a little.

You hear quiet murmurs. Low voices, like the aftermath of a storm. Robin's soft sniffles. Steve's quiet reassurance. Elena's calm, low voice explaining something.

PTSD. Triggers. Memory loops. Flashbacks.

The pieces.

And Eddie. You feel him before you hear him. His thumb brushing slow circles over your arm, one hand in your hair, the other cupping your waist.

You shift just slightly, a tiny wince working through your body like aftershocks from the quake that tore through you.

Eddie's arms tighten instinctively.

You open your mouth, dry and cracked, your voice barely more than a whisper. "Eds..."

He's already looking down, "Yeah, baby? You okay? What do you need?"

You blink hard, like you're trying to shake off fog. It's not quite reality yet, but the weight of memory is lifting slowly.

One clear thought rises above the rest, slicing through the haze with sudden clarity.

"I didn't call Hopper."

The room stills.

Robin looks up sharply. Steve frowns, his arm still wrapped around her shoulders. Elena leans forward from her spot on the rug.

"What?"

Your voice comes stronger this time, though it wavers. "Last night. I... I was supposed to call him. He asked me to. I promised. But I forgot. Steve and Robin showed up and I.. I just forgot. What if..." You sit up slowly, Eddie helping you."What if Neil's already been arrested? What if it's over and no one told us because they didn't know where we were?"

Eddie's brows furrow. "You think... it might be done? Over?"

"I don't know", you say, swallowing hard, "but I need to know. I need to hear it from him. I can't stay here, hiding, if it's already over. If it's safe."

Robin wipes at her eyes, nodding. "Let's find out, then."

Elena's already reaching for the phone, the same hideous looking landline you called your friends with yesterday. "You ready?" she asks gently, placing it in your lap like it's made of glass.

You nod once. Barely.

Eddie tucks himself even closer to your side, one arm around your back, his other hand resting on your thigh, grounding you. "I'm right here", he says softly, "You don't have to do this alone."

You press the receiver to your ear with shaking fingers, dialing the number you know by heart already just from staring at his card so many times.

The tone rings out like a countdown in your chest.

One ring.

Two.

Three.

"Chief Hopper."

You gulp hard. "H-Hi. It's Sam."

Hopper's voice is rough, gravelly as ever, but it holds something else now, relief. Concern. A protective edge that cuts straight through the line. "Kid... you're okay?" he asks, "Jesus. Why didn't you call last night?"

You close your eyes, your throat tight, holding the phone with both hands like it might slip away. "I'm sorry", you whisper, "I...I didn't have the chance to."

Hopper exhales heavily, the sound filling your ear. "It's alright", he says, quieter, "I received your statement from the police station in Indy. You did good, Sam. Real good. I'm proud of you."

You press your lips together, trying not to cry again. You nod instinctively, though he can't see it, like maybe that'll help keep you together. But then you ask. The question you're afraid of.

"Please tell me you found him. Please, Hopper. Tell me I can come back home."

There's silence. One second. Two.

Your chest caves before he even speaks.

"I'm sorry", Hopper sighs finally, "We haven't found him yet."

Your whole body slumps. Like air being let out. The hope you'd started to let yourself believe, it crashes, cracks wide open.

You feel Eddie shift beside you, his hand sliding into yours, strong and steady, threading your fingers together as your other shakes around the receiver.

"He's gone", Hopper continues grimly, "Vanished. No one's seen him. His wife doesn't talk. Max won't say anything either, not even to social services. His son's still in custody, and obviously, he's got nothing to say now. Not without his lawyer in the room."

You choke on a sound. "Billy has a lawyer now?"

"Yeah", Hopper says, with disgust in his voice, "A real son of a bitch. But don't worry, he's not going anywhere. He's being held without bail. Judge agreed he's too much of a danger to you. There's no reason to be afraid of him right now, Sam. Not anymore."

You nod again, fast, trembling, your eyes brimming. "Okay."

"There's more", he adds, cautious now, like he's trying to break it to you gently, "Formal charges have been filed."

You freeze. "What charges?"

There's another beat of silence, like he hates having to say it out loud.

"Attempted rape. Sexual battery. Criminal intimidation. Like we predicted".

The words hit like a punch to the gut.

You flinch, your whole body going stiff.

The word rape lodges in your throat like a shard of glass.

Eddie grips your hand tighter. Robin, across the room, quietly starts crying again. Steve closes his eyes, jaw clenching. Elena bows her head, whispering something under her breath.

"They reviewed the tape", Hopper goes on. "The DA said it's one of the clearest examples of intent and lack of consent he's ever seen. His words. Not mine. They're moving forward, Sam. That's good news."

You're quiet. Completely still.

"The preliminary hearing is today", he continues, "The judge will review the evidence, your statement, the tape, and decide if there's enough to go to trial. Billy's lawyer'll probably argue it was taken out of context, or... try to claim it was consensual."

You shudder. "It wasn't", you whisper.

"I know", Hopper says fiercely. "Anyone listening to that tape knows. The crying. You saying no. Him ignoring it. What he said to you... it's all there. It's powerful. They won't ignore that, Sam. I won't let them."

You pull the phone closer, forehead pressed to your knee, trying to breathe through the weight in your chest.

But Hopper's not done.

"There's another thing", he states quietly, "Your statement about Neil... about the attack at the grocery store, how he threatened you to take back your accusations, said he'd hurt you if you didn't..."

Your heart kicks against your ribs. Eddie's hand is on your back now, rubbing slow, grounding circles, while Elena leans forward, eyes locked on you.

"He said he'd do what his son couldn't", you whisper, "Said he'd finish it. The... rape."

"I know", Hopper sighs, you can hear him lighting a cigarette, inhaling the smoke, "That threat? That's gonna be used against Billy too. Shows intent. Shows the kind of household he came from. The pressure. The violence. Neil's actions play into this case now. The DA's including it in the profile. It shows this wasn't an isolated incident. It was an environment."

You curl in tighter, letting the phone drop slightly away from your ear as your body shudders.

Eddie pulls you against him, arms wrapping tight, holding you like a lifeline. Steve gets up and walks out of the room, hand over his mouth, trying not to break down. Robin leans into Elena, still weeping.

Your whole body starts shaking, like your soul is trying to shake itself free. The flashback still echoes in your skin. The panic. The breathless fear. Neil's hand on your face, his voice in your ear.

"I was so scared", you whisper, not sure if Hopper can even hear you.

"I know, kid", Hopper says, voice softer now, thick, "But you survived. You fought back. And you're not alone."

Your eyes find your friends, all quiet, listening to Hoppers faint once through the receiver.

He's right.

I'm not alone.

Your voice is hoarse when you speak again, quiet and cracked. "When... when do I have to come back? If the hearing is today, shouldn't I be there, too?"

Hopper pauses, then answers gently, "There's no rush. You're safe where you are. But once the trial process starts, if it goes to trial, you'll need to be here for testimony. I'll let you know every step of the way."

You nod. "Do I... do I need a lawyer too? I don't know what I'm supposed to do."

"No, kid", he says firmly. "You're the victim. You'll have the DA's office on your side. Victim advocates. Legal support. We'll make sure you're taken care of. You don't have to face this alone, not in court, not ever. You'll be protected, alright? I swear it."

You sniff. "What... what if Billy takes a plea deal? Does that mean I won't have to testify?"

"Maybe", Hopper says, "It depends. If he pleads guilty, you might not have to. But don't worry about that yet. Just focus on you right now. Healing. Breathing. Surviving. That's all I want from you."

You nod again, slow. Then your voice lowers, barely audible. "What about his father?"

Another pause.

Hopper sighs, tired and heavy. "We're looking. I promise you, Sam. We're gonna find him. Tracking his credit card movements. Every station in that state has his name and picture, there's an official warrant now. I'm not letting him get away with what he did to you. He threatened a witness in an active criminal case. That's serious. He's on the run, yeah, but he can't run forever. He'll slip. And when he does, I'll be there. I'll lock him up, and you can come back home."

You close your eyes. "Okay", you whisper, "Okay."

You want to believe it. You need to believe it.

"Take care of yourself, Sam. Call me again, okay? And don't do anything reckless. Just stay out of this until we found him."

You nod one last time, the lump in your throat choking your voice. "Thanks, Hopper. I'll call again."

Then the line goes quiet.

You hang up.

And just stare. Your hopes crushed.

Why wasn't he found yet?Why is he still out there?

Silence fills the room.

Robin and Elena share a glance, just as shattered as you. Eddie just holds you, tense and angry. Steve already left during the call, stepped back into Elena's bedroom.

He's still in there, the door ajar while he's pacing, trying to collect himself.

Elena slowly stands and follows after him, stepping away quietly.

You can barely hear them, but the emotion carries even through cracked door down the hall.

Steve's voice is sharp, trembling with restrained fury. "Have you seen her, El? Have you seen her? How wrecked she is? And Eddie? Jesus, he looks like he's barely holding it together. This is a goddamn nightmare. They don't deserve any of this."

"Steve", Elena tries softly, reaching out.

"I need to do something", he says, nearly growling, "And I feel so helpless I'm about to fucking throw up."

You hear her step closer, her voice firm. "We will help her. We'll make a plan, okay? This ends. Soon. Take a breath."

He does. A shaky inhale.

A pause.

Then you hear the sound of a kiss.

"I can't stop thinking about this happening to you", Steve whispers, "If it was you instead of her... I'd kill him. I swear to God, I'd kill anyone who ever touched you."

Your breath hitches in your throat.

Those words. They sound so much like what Eddie tells you. What he whispers in the dark when your nightmares won't end.

Through your shock, your fear, your brain still processing everything Hopper told you, you listen to them.

Elena sighs, about to say something, but Steve continues, his voice raw. "Don't. I know this was too much to say, but it's how I feel. I know we're still getting to know each other and you said you're not looking for anything serious, but I... I fell for you the second I saw you behind that venue bar counter. I'm head over heels, El. I miss you every damn second we're apart, and calling you every night is the only thing getting me through the days lately. I..." He stops, then breathes out a little laugh, "Fuck, I think Eddie's right. I think I actually have feelings for you. Big ones. Like... big big."

A pause.

They have no idea the remaining three of you can hear every word.

"I'd do what he does for Sam. For you. In a heartbeat", Steve rasps.

Next door, you smile, weak but real. The corners of your lips curve just a little through the tears. Even Robin looks up now, her eyes wide, lips parted. Eddie's arms wrap tighter around you. Like he heard every word too. Like he knows what it means to love someone that deeply.

You tilt your face slightly toward him, and his nose nudges yours, tender and grounding.

Your protector. Your person.

All around you, in the heart of this wreckage, is a little pocket of something else.

The next room goes quiet for a beat after Steve's confession. Stillness, thick with something new.

Then Elena's voice drifts through, soft and uncertain. "Are you serious?"

You can literally hear his nod, then Steve's voice again, trying to lighten the air, even as emotion clings to every word.

"You're the Sam to my Eddie, baby."

"Oh, my god, you idiot", she sniffles softly, clearly emotional.

You know she feels the same.

Everyone knows it.

From the living room, Steve's words earns a laugh, first from Robin, then from Eddie, a choked kind of laugh. Even you, worn down and weary, chuckle softly as you lean further into your boyfriend.

It's absurd. It's beautiful. It's real.

They're kissing again out there. Despite everything, despite the chaos, the fear, the heartbreak, two people just fell into something real.

A tiny spark of joy in all this dark.

Robin sighs like it pulls her out of a daze. She stands. "We need to make a plan", she says, "This can't be it. We can't just sit here and wait until they catch him."She starts pacing, grabbing the coffee pot and pouring herself another cup.

You watch her, blinking slowly. "Robs, you probably need a bite to eat first", you mumble, your voice raw but clear. "You know what too much caffeine does to you."

Eddie nods. "We all should eat."

As if on cue, Elena reappears, this time dressed in clean clothes, nothing fancy, just jeans and a soft sweater, but she looks like she's taken a breath. A moment. Something to hold onto.

Steve's right behind her, sheepish, tugging on a shirt like a kid caught doing something sweetly forbidden. His cheeks are still pink. It almost makes you laugh again.

"Someone said they're hungry?" Elena asks, her eyes brightening. Something about being useful, having something to do, sparks her to life, "Let me take care of that." She grabs Steve's hand. "You help me."

Without warning, she's shifting into command mode, taking charge like it's second nature.

"Robin, stop with all the coffee. Set the table, okay? And maybe clear the couch a little?"

Robin blinks. Then nods. "Yeah. Okay." She starts to move, grateful for something to do.

"Steve, babe", Elena goes on, smirking at him during the pet name, "right cupboard over the sink, there's waffle mix. Grab it. And everything else we need for it. There should be eggs, bacon, fruit. Thank God I went grocery shopping yesterday."

You look at her, blinking.

"We're making breakfast", she declares.

And suddenly, there's purpose in the room. Movement. Life.

Steve nods, looking at her a second too long, and heads into the kitchen to do exactly what she says.

Then Elena turns to you.

You've managed to sit up, blinking tiredly. Your muscles ache from too much tension, from too little rest, from everything.

She kneels in front of you, tucking hair behind your ear with the gentlest touch. "Sammie", she murmurs, wiping a tear-streak from your cheek, "wanna shower? Get fresh, maybe dressed? You'll feel better. And then we eat. Okay?"

You nod slowly. Try to stand. You're wobbly, but you manage.

Eddie reaches to help you, but you gently wave him off. "I got this", you murmur, "I'm okay".

He hesitates. "Let me just--"

"I got this. I'm not broken."

The room stills again at your words.

You say them like a promise to yourself.

You're not sure if you believe it yet, but you want to.

That's something.

Eddie drops his hands, watches you as you slowly head for Elena's bedroom to grab fresh clothes and your toiletries.

Elena calls after you. "Use whatever you want. Fresh towels are under the sink!"

"Thank you", you reply quietly, nodding your head as you kneel down to rummage through your bag.

But Eddie follows anyway.

You hear the door shut behind him. Quiet click. You don't turn to the door, just keep going through your bag, pretending like your hands aren't shaking.

"I'm okay", you say again, not to convince him, maybe to convince yourself.

"But I'm not."

You freeze at the sound of his voice, finally turn, and the look on his face nearly knocks the breath out of you.

His eyes are glassy, ringed with shadows. He looks exhausted, haunted. Devastated. Like he's been holding his breath for hours. Days.

You get up on your feet, stare at him. "Baby...", you whisper, stepping closer, "I'm so sorry."

Now that you say it, now that you let yourself remember, it all crashes down on you.

The way you fought him off. The fists on his chest. His voice, far away, begging you to come back. The sound of him crying - him, the strongest person you know - shaking as he held you.

It slams into you now. The memory. The guilt.

You reach for him, stumbling forward.

He catches you like he always does. His arms wrap around you like he needs you to stay upright. His chest heaves once, and then the pressed sob comes out of him like it was waiting in the pit of his stomach.

"I thought I lost you", he whispers, voice cracking, "You were there but you weren't and I... fuck, Sam, I didn't know what to do."

You hold onto him as tight as you can, feeling his tears against your neck this time.

"I'm here", you whisper, hand in his hair, your own tears slipping free again, "I'm here. And I'm not going anywhere."

After holding you for a moment, he pulls back and wipes at his face, clearly embarrassed of his tears. He turns and sits down on the edge of the bed, his elbows on his knees, hands clasped like he's holding himself together by sheer force.

You kneel in front of him, your fingers reaching for his, and when he looks up at you, it shatters you. His eyes are red. Still wet. Still swimming.

"You looked like a ghost", he rasps, "Like you were gone. Like I was watching some... dark twin of you. Not you, not really. Just this shell. You were shaking. Crying. You stared at me like I wasn't there. Like I wasn't even real."

You can barely breathe through your tears, but he keeps going, needs to.

"I touched your face. Your shoulders. I kissed you. I said your name over and over. I begged you to talk to me. What's going on, baby? What's happening?" His voice breaks mid-impression of himself. "You didn't blink. You just kept gasping. Crying. Like you were stuck inside yourself." He grips the sides of his thighs like he's trying to steady himself against the memory. "I looked at the others, I was begging them to help. Elena said it was a flashback. That your brain locked you in. That I couldn't do anything but wait."

You reach for his face, wiping at the tears that slip out despite him trying to hide them. You whisper his name, but he won't stop. He can't.

"When you finally came back..." His jaw tightens. "I thought, thank God, she's okay. But then you... God, Sam, you looked at me like I was a monster."

"I didn't mean to", you choke out.

"You stumbled back. Away from me. You were crying so hard, you couldn't even breathe. And you screamed when I got close. You flinched from me. You said--" He swallows hard, "You called me Billy. You begged me not to touch you."

You press your hands to his cheeks again, your own tears falling freely now. "Eddie, I didn't know-"

"I know you didn't", he whispers, closing his eyes against your touch like it physically hurts, "I know it wasn't really you. But it was. To me, it was you. You still looked like you. It was you, screaming like I was gonna hurt you. Fighting me off like I was the one who did it".

You sob. "I'm so sorry, baby. I'm so, so sorry."

He shakes his head, eyes still closed, "It's not your fault."

"I hit you, didn't I?", you ask, your voice breaking. "Did I hurt you? Your ribs? Your head?"

"No", he lies.

You can tell. His body's been sore. You've seen it in how he moves. But that's not what's really hurting. What's hurting is you. What's hurting is that he saw your soul laid bare, wrecked by what they did to you.

That you didn't know him. That your fear drowned out everything else, even him.

You press your forehead to his, tears falling onto his knees. "I didn't know. I didn't see you. I didn't hear you. I just... I disappeared into it. Into that place. It was like falling, and I couldn't stop. I couldn't scream. I saw them. I felt them. I couldn't get out. And I left you. I left you there with nothing but the mess I became."

His arms wrap around you so tightly it aches, "Don't say that. Don't ever say that."

You pull back, take his face in your hands, kiss him. "I'm sorry I wasn't myself anymore. I don't know what happened. One second, I was laughing... light... I was okay. And then it just flipped. Like a switch. Gone. I fell. I lost control."You kiss him again, slower, more lingering. "Thank you for staying. For holding me. For bringing me back. For being my rock. My haven. My home."

His breath hitches. He kisses you this time, and you can taste the pain, the rage, the helplessness.

"I love you so much", you whisper against his lips. Your tears mix into the kiss, "I just want this to be over. Please. I just want it to be over, Eddie."

He kisses you again. And again. Longer now. Deeper. Like he's trying to wipe the fear off your skin with his mouth.

"I will always catch you, baby", he murmurs against your lips, "Always."

You kiss him like that promise is a lifeline. Because it is.

"Please don't leave me", you whisper.

"I won't. Never." He pulls you up into his lap, arms around you like steel. "They can't have you. They'll never touch you again."

You nod, sniffling again as you wrap around him and bury your face in his neck.

After a while of holding each other, he says it. Quiet, but firm, jaw clenched against the fury pulsing through his veins.

"I want to go back."

You freeze, your cheek still pressed to his chest. You know what he means. And you're scared of what that means.

"I want to go back to Hawkins", he continues, voice thick, "I want to find him. That bastard. Neil. I want to see him. I want to drag him into the goddamn street and show him what it feels like to be hunted. To be fucking afraid."

You sit up slightly, looking into his eyes. They're wild with rage, dark and burning. Not at you, but for you. Because of you.

"You're everything I have", he rasps, his hands tightening on your waist, "Everything I am. And I had to watch you come apart, completely, because of them. I had to watch you disappear and I couldn't do a damn thing."

You shake your head, gripping his face again. "Baby, I know. I know. We can't go back. Not yet. I can't go back."

His hands curl into fists behind your back. "I'm losing my mind here, Sam. Sitting in this apartment while he's out there. Free. Breathing air like he hasn't destroyed you. I feel like I'm just waiting. Waiting for something worse to happen. I don't care where we go, another city, some tiny nowhere town, I just... I need you safe. But I also need to know that he pays. That they both pay."

You exhale shakily, trying to steady the both of you. "They will. Hopper promised. He said they're doing everything they can to find Neil. He will be found. And Billy's going to trial. He's in a cage now, and he's not getting out."

Eddie shakes his head. "It's not enough. None of it's enough. I want to end them. Him. His son. His whole fucking bloodline. You don't deserve this. You never did. And if I could give them every ounce of pain you've felt... I would."

You lean forward again, resting your forehead to his. "You being here... holding me through all this... that's what's saving me. Not revenge. Not running. You. That's what's keeping me from falling again."

His arms wrap around you tighter, like that's the only way he can breathe. "I just want you back", he whispers, "The way you laugh. The way you light up when you play your music. I want that version of you again."

"I'm still here", you whisper, voice breaking, "Somewhere inside, I'm still her. And I'm gonna fight to find her again. Because I love you. Because you never stopped believing in me. And that means more than any revenge ever could."

He pulls you into another kiss, slow, deep, trembling with emotion neither of you can name.

Outside the room, breakfast is being made. Life, somehow, still goes on, as the two of you try to puzzle yourselves together once again.

The shower blasts you with boiling heat, and you stand there for a while until your skin stings and your chest loosens.

Then you twist it cold. Ice cold.

The shock hits you hard, like lightning through your limbs.

You breathe in deep. Feel something shake loose inside you.

After you're done, you towel off slowly, methodically. Moisturize your face with trembling hands. Pull on clean underwear. Ripped jeans. A hoodie that faintly smells like Eddie.

You glance at your reflection in the misty mirror.

Same girl. Different day.

Same eyes. But so much older.

How many times have you stood like this?

Swollen face. Red eyes. Lips cracked from crying.

You've lost count.

Ever since Billy... and now Neil.

Every few days another scar on your soul.

Another time you've had to look at yourself and wonder if it'll ever stop. If you'll ever get your life back.

Now all you see is that little girl you once were.

The one who grew up in loud rooms that smelled like smoke and cheap liquor.

Who never had a birthday party.

Who watched her mom cry herself to sleep in someone else's bed.

Who was told she was an accident. A problem. A burden.

The girl who watched her mother spiral.

Who was passed between broken homes and left in unsafe places.

Who never had a friend that stayed.

Who constantly was told she wasn't wanted before she was even born.

The girl who learned to build walls because no one else would protect her.

The girl that somehow managed to grow up, get older. Angrier.

You remember Chicago. Six years of building a life somewhere, finally. Still with your mother, but finally old enough to take care of yourself for at least a little.

Meeting your best friend there. Jenna.

And then losing it all within two weeks.

The court sent you away like a box of junk no one wanted. Shoved out like trash and passed off to a father who couldn't even look you in the eye when you came to Hawkins with nothing but anger in your bag and the bruises of a thousand disappointments.

The silence from the girl that was supposed to be your best friend.

The way no one called. No one checked in with you and that new life you had to start.

Not even your own mother.

Your birthday passed by without a call from any of them.

Out of sight, out of mind.

And now here you are.

Eighteen years old. Feeling like you've lived three lifetimes. Looking at yourself and wondering when it ends.

When does it fucking end?

You breathe out shakily. Look at her. Then, something shifts in your eyes. Just a flicker.

The little girl steps back again, into the place in your soul you keep for her. A hidden room behind locked doors.

She's not gone. Just quiet now.

In her place stands the woman you've become.

Broken, yes - but broken things can still hold weight.

"I'm stronger than this", you whisper to the mirror.

You take a deep breath, straighten up and do what you always did. You pull it all in. Tuck the pain down deep. Seal the door.

Out of sight, out of mind.

You reach for the knob, and step out of the bathroom. Ready, or not.

From the kitchen, the sound of laughter tries to push through the living space. It's thin, forced. But it's there.

Life still trying to exist in the wreckage.

You step closer, glance toward the glass balcony door. Through the gauzy curtains, you see Steve and Eddie. Steve's leaning against the railing, arms folded. Eddie's got a cigarette in his fingers, one boot kicked up on the metal rail. He's not facing him directly, but he's talking. Steve says something. Eddie shakes his head, laughs without joy, and then... stops. His shoulders slump. He covers his eyes with his hand, clearly stressed. Steve moves closer, claps a hand on his back. Pulls him into a hug. It's not just a bro hug, or a guy-pat on the back. It's solid. Real.

Eddie doesn't fight it.

You don't know what he's saying, but you can tell from his posture. From the way he breathes out smoke like he's trying to exhale all the poison inside. He's talking about you. About what happened in that bedroom. About what you said. About how he feels.

He actually opens up to the guy he would've never thought would become such a close friend.

You move quietly across the apartment, toward the kitchen where Elena and Robin are working together like clockwork.

The smell of waffles and bacon is slowly creeping out, trying to mask the heaviness with comfort.

Elena's baking waffles with a focus that looks like it's keeping her upright. Robin is setting the table, when she catches your eye and gives you the smallest smile. You look toward the balcony one more time. They still talk. Two men shouldering the weight of a nightmare neither of them asked for.

"Hey, feeling better?", Robin softly asks, and you glance at her.

"Yes", you sigh, nodding your head. "I really needed that. Thanks again."

Elena waves you off, shakes her head as if all of this isn't a big deal. Her focus stays steady on the waffle iron, flipping golden squares like they're holding the whole world together.

Everything feels... quieter now. Not fixed. Not healed. But calmer.

Elena and Robin have found comfort in movement, purpose in breakfast. You had the shower, a moment to yourself. A second to breathe. To feel clean again, inside and out. Eddie... he needed that talk with Steve.

Robin gestures toward the table. "Sit down. Relax. Breakfast will be ready any minute now."

You do what she says.

Waffles pile up on one plate, eggs on another, bacon sizzling and crisp. There's fruit salad in a glass bowl, butter softening beside a stack of toast, and orange juice catching the morning light in a jug.

The balcony door slides open, the guys step back inside.

Eddie's hair's wind-tousled, his jacket open, and he smells like smoke, like at least five cigarettes in one sitting, but his shoulders are looser now. Something's lighter about him, like he let go of some of the weight he's been dragging. Robin slides into the seat beside you, squeezes your hand as she pours herself some juice. Steve crosses the kitchen and intercepts Elena with a grin, wrapping his arms around her waist as she brings another plate over. She squeaks in surprise, almost drops the waffles, then bursts into giggles as he kisses her, bold and unashamed, clearly smitten.

It's grossly cute.

Eddie shrugs off his jacket, eyes scanning the room until they find you sitting at the table in his hoodie, your hair still damp, juice glass in hand. His eyes don't leave you as he walks over, pats Robin's shoulder as he passes and slides into the seat beside you, his arm instantly slipping around your back, tugging you into his side. He presses a kiss to your hair, slow and warm. "Mmh", he hums, "You smell good. How was your shower? Feeling better?"

You nod, nestled against him, his warmth melting into you. "Yeah... I needed that."

He sighs relieved, nodding. "That's good to hear."

You turn to look at him. "What about you, mh? You feel a little better, too?"

He looks down at your face, shrugs and gives you a crooked smirk. "Guess what was therapeutic for you yesterday, unloading all your trauma onto Elena, turned into me dumping all my shit on Harrington. Can't believe I told him about my emotions. Feelings, babe. I'm a man. We don't do that. We talk tits and beer."

You chuckle, the sound breaking the last of your tension.

His eyes light up at the sound like it's the only thing he's needed all day. He keeps going, playful now. "I'm a fucking softie now. Look what you've done to me. First I cry, now I talk about it? Hell, it's that therapist vibe he suddenly has since he started fucking a psych student, can't resist it."

"Excuse me?", Elena calls from the kitchen, and you snort, sharing an amused glance with your boyfriend while leaning into him.

He keeps going, eyes gleaming with mischief. "Next thing you know, I'm writing a diary. Lighting candles. Doing yoga with Steve in the mornings. Wearing linen. Drinking herbal tea. Who even am I?"

You burst into laughter, loud and real this time, and Eddie grins like he's won the lottery. Like your laugh is his favorite song and he's been dying to hear it again.

The others glance over at you, all watching with those soft, relieved expressions that say there you are. The real you. The almost-old you. The you they've been waiting to see again.

Robin nudges you gently. "God, you're gross together. Please never break up. I don't think my heart could handle it."

Eddie just smirks and leans closer, mumbling flirt after flirt into your hair, voice all low and sinful like he's trying to make you blush. "You sure you don't wanna skip breakfast, sweetheart? We could sneak off, grab round two of that shower..."

You swat at his chest with a mock glare, your cheeks hot, but he catches your hand and kisses your knuckles, slow and flirty, like he's got nowhere else to be but here, loving you. He holds you close, your side tucked against his, his hand rubbing gentle circles into your back.

The others pretend not to look, but they're watching you both. Watching how you smile again. Watching how Eddie keeps you anchored, keeps you soft, even after everything.

Steve and Elena join the table, finally sitting. There's plates passed, food heaped on top. You all dig in like you've been starving for something more than just breakfast, starving for peace, for comfort, for this tiny slice of normal. The air is warmer now. Easier.

15 minutes later, you sit back, full and warm, the edge of your plate pushed aside as you lean into Eddie's side again.

He wraps his arm tighter around you, and when you turn your face up to look at him, your eyes meet his. They're wide open, clear now, the clouds of your flashback gone, like the storm passed and left nothing but light behind. That soft smile still clings to your lips, so gentle it aches in his chest.

You lift your hand, brush your fingers along the stubble on his cheek. "You okay?" you whisper, just for him.

He nods, leans in, kisses you, slow and sure, his lips tasting like sweet waffles and coffee. "Yeah", he murmurs against your lips, "You?"

You kiss him back, and again, until your nose bumps his and Robin clears her throat with a smirk.

She watches you two with soft eyes, chin in hand like a sappy movie critic.

Steve and Elena are finishing up their plates too, still locked in their own quiet rhythm, touching often and never too far apart. Fingers brushing, elbows bumping, leaning close to whisper.

Elena catches your eye and smiles, tilting her head. "You look way better now. How do you feel, mh?"

You nod, exhale like you're finally able to. "Yeah, way better... great water pressure in that shower. And a great breakfast."

Steve perks up immediately. "Right? That shower? Love it in there. Especially with good company." He waggles his brows at Elena, who lets out a shocked laugh, cheeks pink.

"Steve", she hisses, smacking his arm.

Robin groans, dragging a hand down her face. "Okay, we get it. Shower sex. The dream. Can we not make the single girl feel even lonelier right now? God, you guys make me miss Vickie even more."

You laugh softly, settling back against Eddie as he presses a kiss to the side of your head. His hand traces idle lines across your arm, grounding you in the best way.

"I seriously can't thank you all enough", you say, voice soft but steady as you look around at the people who've filled this tiny apartment with so much warmth, "You came all the way from Hawkins just to be here for me. To check in. To take care of me." You glance at Elena. "Even you. We met once before, we just had that crazy weekend of that gig, and now you just... opened your door to all of us. Fed us. Made space we didn't even ask for. That means everything."

Elena gives you a bashful little shrug, brushing toast crumbs from her sweater. "Wasn't a question, really. You needed help. You're my friend, Sam. You all are."

"And you gave your help. You all did", you say, eyes flicking between each of them, "I don't deserve friends like you, guys. You're the best, and I just want you to know how thankful I am for you. For everything you did for me."

"Bullshit", Robin mumbles instantly, reaching over to squeeze your hand, "You deserve everything good. You're one of us. Always."

You turn to Eddie last. He's already looking at you, like he can't not. You touch his cheek again, and your thumb brushes just under his eye. "I don't think I'll ever be able to thank you enough for everything you do for me, Eds."

His hand catches yours, presses it to his chest. "You don't have to. You know I'd do anything for you. Without a doubt."

You smile, watery now. "I love you so much, my heart."

Robin practically swoons into her chair. "Goo. I'm goo again."

But the moment shifts when you clear your throat.

"That said... I think you guys really should head back soon. Steve, Robs, I really appreciate you two came here, but you can't keep missing school and work for me. It's already too much. I don't want you getting in trouble."

Robin's brows furrow. "What? We don't care about that now, Sam."

"But I do", you reply gently, and then glance to Elena. "And you've got classes today, right?"

She sighs and nods. "Yeah, but nothing major-"

"Still. I can't keep pulling you all off track. I wish I could even send Eddie back, but I know he'd never agree to that."

"Damn right", Eddie mutters beside you, arms wrapping tighter around your middle, "Not a chance."

You rest your hand over his. "I know. And I don't want to be without you, Eds. But we can't stay here forever. Elena, I'll leave some cash for everything you've given us, but we should go. You've already done more than enough."

Eddie nods beside you as if he was thinking the same.

"Absolutely not", Steve finally speaks, sitting up straighter. "You're not running off again. It's not safe. Not until he's caught."

You look down, jaw tense.

"We love you, babe", Robin adds softly, "We want to help you. Don't push us away."

"There's nothing else to do", you sigh, voice thinner now, "The police can't find him. What could we possibly do? All there is, is to wait. Hide. Fucking pray for him to get caught, if you believe in it. But there's nothing else we can do. So please, go home, okay? Go back to your lives, and we'll follow you when it's safe again."

"No. We could try to get him caught", Robin insists, "We want to. Maybe we find something the cops missed."

You hesitate, but Eddie's breath is warm at your temple. "Let them help, baby. That's all they want."

You sigh, then nod slowly. "Okay. Let's try. Let's just...brainstorm, I guess."

Robin is all business now, takes another sip of coffee and leans back in her chair. "Alright. So what did Hopper say exactly?"

You clean your throat. "Neil Hargrove is still on the run. They're watching his home, his credit card movements, patrolling the streets for his truck. His wife won't talk. His stepdaughter Max won't, too. Billy stays silent as well. What a surprise.''

"You think they know where he is?" Steve asks.

You shrug. "Maybe. I don't know. All I know is Max's mom is scared of him. He beats her. Cheats on her. He's an alcoholic, a narcissist. She's probably terrified what he'll do to her if she even says one fucking word. And Max? Bet she just wants to protect her mom. Don't think he ever laid a hand on her, but she definitely witnessed the abuse of her mother."

Your friends nod. Understand.

Elena leans in. "I know this is a part of your life you don't wanna think back to, but when you... spent time with Billy. Is there anything you remember? Something that might help? Something he told you about his family, his father?"

Eddie stiffens beside you, but doesn't interrupt. You grip his hand tightly over your shoulder and close your eyes, letting your memory drift.

"He... said he grew up in California. San Clemente, I think. I'm not sure. Right near the coast. He used to surf there. His biological mother died when he was still little, his father lost his job after, and they downsized but stayed near the beach. The usual sad story, I guess. His father started drinking, got violent. Eventually met Max's mom. They all moved to Hawkins together soon after they married." You swallow, "That's all, I think."

Steve frowns, his fingers slowly rubbing up and down Elena's arm, who's leaned into him. "You sure that's all you know? Take your time. Anything else about his family? Their life in California, maybe?"

Your brows furrow as you rummage through your brain, eyes closing in focus. You remember bare skin, tangled sheets, the lazy trail of Billy's fingers on your arm as he talked about his past.

"He still has family in California, I think. An... uncle? Not a real uncle, he's his father's... friend? Cousin? No... oh, his stepbrother, I think.''

Everyone's watching you now as you let yourself go back, eyelids fluttering softly.

That warm night in Billy's room. Whispered things in the dark. His voice, low and sharp with bitterness as he talked about his family.

"There was this garage", you finally start, voice almost disbelieving as the memory hits clearer now, "Not like a car mechanic garage exactly, but... yeah, kind of. A family shop. His step-uncle or whatever he is owned it. Outside of town. Not in the city. Somewhere kind of rural, but not totally middle-of-nowhere either. There was a gas station attached, I think. Near a highway."

Eddie tenses slightly behind you.

You feel him trying to keep his breathing even. You lace your fingers tighter with his, grounding him, grounding yourself.

"Billy said he spent a whole summer out there when he was 14. His dad didn't want him home. So he stayed there, helped out at the shop, surfed when he could." You pause. "It was near the beach still, but farther out. Still in California. I don't know where. He told me the towns name, I'm sure, but I can't remember...''

"We'll find it out", Steve mutters, nodding to himself.

You open your eyes, looking at them. "It wasn't a big town or anything. He said it was boring as hell, but the uncle was chill. He didn't ask questions. Let him crash there. Paid him a bit under the table."

Your friends exchange glances. "You think they're still in contact?", Elena asks, and you shrug again.

"No idea."

Robin sits back, fingers drumming against her mug, eyes narrowing thoughtfully. "Okay, so... San Clemente. Outside town, some kind of garage. Gas station attached, near a highway. Family-owned, not some chain. Step-uncle or whatever. That's something."

Steve nods slowly, arms crossed as he leans into Elena. "Could be where Neil ran off to. If he's got family willing to cover for him, especially ones off the radar..."

"Sounds like a place he'd think no one would look", Eddie mutters behind you. You feel the tension still buzzing in him, even with his arms wrapped firm around your waist. "Out of state. Familiar. Quiet."

"Okay, so", Robin sits up straighter, "We'll start with phone books, maybe? Maps. Local listings."

You glance at her. "You wanna cold-call every garage in southern California?"

"Wouldn't be the weirdest thing I've done this year", she replies, deadpan.

Steve scratches the back of his neck. "We could call the information line. You know, like 411. Ask for garages near San Clemente. Especially ones with gas stations attached. Rural area. We can ask for family-owned businesses, see what comes up."

"Or check the public library", Elena offers, "Old business registries, directories. Sometimes they keep out-of-state ones. We could try the campus library later today."

Robin is already nodding, like she's building a map in her mind. "We narrow it down. Find the ones close to a highway. Then we call. Ask questions. Maybe someone remembers Billy. Or his dad."

You breathe out slowly, still pressed into Eddie's chest, his warmth grounding you. "It's a long shot."

"It's our shot", Steve corrects firmly, "You gave us something to go on. Now we do the work."

"Guys", you sigh, "I really don't-".

'Let them try. Please", Eddie mumbles, cutting you off with his lips kissing your temple.

You nod slowly, swallowing past the lump in your throat. "Okay. Yeah. Let's try."

Robin pushes her chair back with new energy. "Alright, Operation Hargrove is on."

Steve winces. "Terrible name."

"Shut up, it's temporary", Robin fires back, already grabbing a notebook from her bag.

You look around the room, how your friends already start writing down all the things you remembered, at your love right next to you, holding you close, lighting a cigarette, his lips brushing your hair now and then, and something soft and fragile settles in your chest.

Maybe you're not safe yet.

Maybe none of this leads anywhere.

But you're not alone.