The Unnamed Feeling (Steddie)

Just Let Me Plug You Into My World

Eddie Munson paced back and forth in the trailer he shared with his uncle. His hands nervously twisted with each other in front of him. He was practically vibrating, a bundle of nervous energy. His heart was racing, his breathing was shallow. His ears were ringing and there was a coppery taste in the back of his throat. His vision was tunneled, black around the edges with pinpoints of focus being all he could see. Every few minutes, he'd twitch, a jolting spasm causing his head to jerk to one side as his shoulder came up to meet it. He was having an anxiety attack. And this wasn't the first one.

Eddie had been having anxiety attacks his whole life. Up until about a year ago though, he didn't have a name for what was happening to him. He just assumed he was a natural born fuck up. That's what everyone thought. That's what everyone told him; his uncle Wayne, teachers, counselors all thought he was just trying to get attention, to cause trouble. As he got older, they blamed it on drugs. But the drugs didn't cause his erratic behavior. In fact, they helped when nothing else did.

But last year, when Eddie was visiting Wayne in the hospital after an accident at the plant where he worked, Eddie had had an attack in front of Wayne's doctor. It had come on suddenly and been particularly bad. Wayne got pissed, like always, thinking Eddie was just being an ass again. But the doctor recognized it for what it was and offered Eddie help. Eddie had been prescribed medication, Clonazepam. It helped. Usually. Sometimes it didn't. Like tonight.

Wayne was working the night shift and Eddie was home alone. When he felt the attack coming on, he took his meds, but an hour later he was still buzzing, the anxiety coursing through him like electricity. So, he smoked a joint. That helped a little. But as the high started to wear off, Eddie started pacing, twitching, fidgeting. So, Eddie did the only other thing he could think of, the only thing that ever helped calm him down. He called Steve Harrington.

Neither of them was sure why, but Steve was a calming presence for Eddie. When nothing else could bring Eddie back to Earth, Steve always could. All Steve had to do was touch him and Eddie would start to feel better. They'd discovered it by accident. Eddie had been hanging out at Family Video with Robin. He did that sometimes when he was bored. She was his best friend. She got him. Even when he was having an attack. She was the only one who never defined him by his seemingly bad behavior, behavior he had no way to control back then.

As far as Steve went, other than the occasional admiring glances when he thought no one was looking, because Steve was hot, no doubt about it, Eddie never made any effort to get to know him. He was just there, a friend and co-worker of Robin's who would probably knock his block off if he knew that Eddie checked him out sometimes. Eddie could talk to him and be friendly, if need be, but he never considered Steve an actual friend. Especially not when they'd butt heads because Eddie was acting like a spastic freak. Steve's words, not his.

So now he waited, glancing towards the door every few seconds. It was bad tonight and he needed Steve. He glanced at the clock. It had only been fifteen minutes since he called Steve, he would be here soon. But with each minute that passed, the trailer felt like it was getting smaller, like the walls were closing in on him. Eddie couldn't breathe anymore, the air in the trailer felt like it was running out on him. So, he went outside hoping the fresh air would help. It did, a little. At least he could breathe now without feeling like there was a cement block on his chest.

So, that night six months ago when Eddie started having an attack at Family Video and Robin tried but couldn't calm him, not even with his meds, Steve had gotten fed up with it. Customers were starting to notice and stare at him. Steve grabbed Eddie, intent on physically tossing him out of the store because he obviously had no plans to leave willingly at that point. Eddie stopped, gazed up at Steve, and the nervous energy, the physical stress, drained from him and he collapsed against Steve. Steve reluctantly took him out back and Eddie clung to him while he calmed down, back to his usual happy-go-lucky self. Since then, they were almost inseparable. And whenever Eddie and Steve were near each other, Eddie touched Steve, a brush of hands, a friendly arm across the shoulder, or just sitting close enough so Eddie could absorb some of the calm that Steve always seemed to exude.