Rock Steady (Steddie)

I Didn't Mean It

Saturday morning, Steve parked in front of the Munson trailer and let out a heavy sigh. Eddie's van wasn't here, and he didn't believe Eddie would be up this early. It was barely nine in the morning. But Steve needed to know where Eddie was. He'd talked to Dustin first thing this morning and he'd told Steve that Eddie hadn't been at school in two days, and he'd missed Hellfire Thursday afternoon.

When he knocked on the door, Wayne answered looking haggard, but hopeful. But when he saw Steve, his face fell. "Eddie ain't here," he said gruffly. "Ain't been here for days."

"I talked to him Thursday night, Mr. Munson," Steve said. "He said he was home."

"He lied," Wayne answered and there was a catch in his throat. Steve could see the worried look in his eyes. "He left here Wednesday and hasn't been back." Steve started to say something, but Wayne kept going, barely holding back tears. "I told him if he left, don't bother coming back. But I didn't mean it. And now I don't know where he is and I'm fucking scared."

"I think I know where he is," Steve told him, trying to sound reassuring. "I was with him after he left home that night. I'll go check on him."

"I'm coming with you."

"Mr. Munson," Steve began calmly. "Let me go get him. He won't want you to see him in the condition I think he's in." Wayne considered it for a moment and finally nodded. "I'll bring him home. I promise."

Steve got back in his car and drove to Rick's cabin. Eddie's van was there, and Steve was only slightly relieved. He knocked on the front door but there was no answer, so he tried the knob. It was unlocked. Steve turned it and pushed the door open. The first thing he saw was the three empty bottles on the floor near the couch; two whiskey bottles and a tequila bottle. He didn't see Eddie, so he stepped farther inside. There was a putrid smell in the air that Steve couldn't identify. He wrinkled his nose as he went around the couch to the kitchen.

Eddie was laying on the floor near the kitchen table, his head resting in a pool of vomit. Steve lunged for him, landed on his knees next to Eddie, and scooped Eddie up into his arms. Eddie's head lolled back, his eyes rolled up in his head and his lips had a slight blue tinge.

"No, no, no, Eddie," he almost sobbed. Steve pressed his fingertips to Eddie's throat, searching for a pulse. He found it after a panicked moment, weak and thready under his fingertips and let out the breath he'd been holding. "Eddie, you idiot," he groaned. "What did you do?"

He laid Eddie gently back on the floor then went for the phone to call for help. After the call, he went back to Eddie, scooped him up again, and held him, murmuring softly to him, checking his pulse every few minutes until the police and paramedics arrived. They took Eddie from him and went to work on him as the police questioned him.

"What did he take," Chief Hopper asked him.

"I don't know," Steve answered. "He's been here alone for two days. I don't know what he took."

"Who does the lunchbox belong to?" Steve looked over at the open lunchbox on the kitchen table.

"I don't know," Steve lied.

"Chief," one of the paramedics called out and Hopper turned away from Steve. "This was in his pocket." He handed Hopper four small balloons. "There's nine more on the table. Empty."

Hopper turned back to Steve and held out the balloons to him. "What is this?"

"Heroin," Steve sighed as he watched the paramedics lift Eddie onto a gurney. "But I broke the needle so he couldn't..." He shook his head as his voice trailed off.

"There are plenty of other ways to take this crap without a needle," Hopper told him, and Steve nodded. Now Steve understood why Eddie hadn't protested more when Steve asked him to stop drinking. "What are you doing hanging out with this guy, Steve?"