Chapter Text
Eddie was either dreaming or he was dead.
That was the funny thing about dreaming of the past- you just watched. It was like putting on a movie you’ve already seen, the ending was never a surprise.
Except when it was.
He was in his apartment in LA- the big penthouse that Chrissy had helped him choose. It was right in the center of town, with big windows all around, and an open floor plan that made everything feel surprisingly cozy despite the size.
Everything was exactly the way it had looked when Eddie was last there. His jackets were all over the couch, because he was trying to decide which one to wear to the party that night, and there were empty red solo cups from the drinks that he and Chrissy had made together. She didn't want to go to the party, not after everything, but Eddie had pressured her into at least pregaming with him.
He shouldn’t have made her drink that night.
Eddie turned his head away from the kitchen and there she was. Kneeling on the loveseat by the window, her strawberry blonde hair uncharacteristically down instead of up with her usual ponytail and bow. Chrissy was holding a cup, quickly slamming the rest before turning to Eddie.
“Maybe you sh’ld jusstay.” She said, her words slurred and barely audible. She had her eyes downcast, but he could see the tear tracks on her cheeks and the way she was biting the inside of her cheek.
“Chris-”
“Please stay, Eddie.” She said, interrupting him. She looked up, her red and puffy eyes on full display. She looked like a total wreck, the way she had looked for weeks leading up to that last night. “‘M ‘fraid of bein’ alone tonight. Please just stay.”
If Eddie was a good person, he would have abandoned his jackets and walked over to her. He would have wrapped his dearest person in a big hug, holding her close and promising that he would always be there for her. That she didn’t need to be afraid, because he wouldn’t let anything happen to her.
But he wasn’t a good person. He was a terrible person.
You heard her. Just stay, he silently begged his past self, knowing he wouldn’t listen. He never did. Fucking stay, you jackass. She’s your best friend, and she’s scared, and she doesn’t want to be alone. Stay. Stay. Stay. Stay.
Instead Eddie’s body sighed, and his mouth opened without permission, parroting the words he had said to her that night. The words he would never be able to forget.
“Chrissy, this has got to stop,” Eddie sighed. His body began to move forward as he rounded the couch and walked over to her, grabbing the cup out of her hand and beginning to clean up.
“Whassgot t’stop?” She said from behind him, her voice small and frightened.
“Look, I get it. I do,” His past self said. Internally Eddie rolled his eyes at his former arrogance. He hadn’t known anything. He was a stupid fool.
“You’re scared of him, and I understand why, but look around Chrissy. It’s been five weeks, and he hasn’t even tried contacting you-”
“Because I blocked him!” Chrissy interrupted Eddie. When he turned around, her knees were up by her chest, arms wrapped tightly around them. “I had to block him on everything -”
“I know-”
“And then the letters-”
“I know-”
“And the flowers! Eddie! The flowers!”
“Chrissy, those could have been from anyone!” Eddie shouted, throwing his arms up. She flinched back, either from his sudden movement or his volume, or both. It was probably both.
This was the moment. This was the big chance. This was the part where Eddie figured out if it was a dream or if it was death. If he had died, this was where things would go differently. This is where he would stay.
“Chrissy…you know I have to go,” Eddie said softly, coming over to kneel down in front of her.
Not dead yet. Just a dream.
A nightmare.
“He knows I’m here, Eddie,” She whimpered, uncurling just enough to grab his hand in an ironclad grip. Her fingers were freezing cold, but it felt like he was burning. Like the touch was permanently branding him. “You don’t have to go, you just want to go. And I’m asking you to please stay.”
She’s right. You don’t have to. It’s just a party. The other guys could go and schmooze with the higher ups at the record label. You know that, Eddie thought, waves of self-loathing drowning him in agony.
You just don’t want to be here anymore. You don’t want to listen to her cry, you don’t want to try to help, and you’re sick and tired of taking care of her. That’s why you’re leaving. You want a break.You want to flirt with random people and not feel tied to making sure she’s okay, when you’re the reason that she’s even in this mess. You did this to her, and now you’re leaving her because you can’t handle it. You know those roses were from Jason. You know that she’s right, but you’re so sure that he won’t try anything. You know best, don’t you Eddie? You know best, and because you know best, you’re gonna get your best friend killed.
“I’ll be back in a few hours.” Eddie said instead of responding to Chrissy’s callout. He tried to lean over to kiss her cheek, but she swerved away, standing and immediately stumbling. He jumped to help her, but she thrust her hands out, keeping Eddie at a distance.
“Don’t bother. Stay out all night long,” Chrissy sneered, slowly righting herself into a straight position. She rolled her eyes, blinking rapidly as she turned away from him. “I’ll just sit here completely terrified and alone while you drink or smoke or find some adoring fan to drag into a bathroom for the best fifteen minutes of their life! That’s what matters, right? You get to do what you want.”
“Chrissygirl,” Eddie tried again, using the little nickname he had come up with for her the day they met.
“Go ahead, Eddie,” She said, cutting him off with an incredulous little laugh. Chrissy strode over to the door and opened it for him as she continued to shout. “Go have a blast being a super cool rockstar, and I’ll sit here and wait for my ex to come and kill me!”
Eddie groaned, letting his head fall backwards.
“Kill you? I know you’re upset, but don’t be overdramatic, Chris,” Eddie scoffed. “Jason’s a creep, and a total nutter, but he’s not dangerous . All he did was maybe, maybe , send you some roses.”
“He did send me those roses,” She argued back, stubbornly crossing her arms. “Which means he knows that I’m here, Eddie. He knows I’m here, and he knows you’ll be at that party tonight, which means he knows I’m going to be alone!”
“Chrissy, you’re being paranoid,” Eddie sighed, straightening up and putting a hand pretentiously on his chest, pulling an exaggerated tone. “Jason would never commit an act of violence against a precious woman. His faith would never allow such a thing!”
“I hate when you treat me like I’m crazy. You talk to me just like he used to,” Chrissy muttered.
“You’re being ridiculous,” He spat out.
“You’re being selfish,” She whispered, her eyes filled with tears as her lip wobbled, “You’re only going because you want to get laid.”
Even though Eddie couldn’t feel it, he knew this was where he had gotten mad. This was where he had grabbed whatever jacket was closest and jammed his arms into it, shoving all of his worry down and replacing it with incredulous anger that made him say things he didn’t mean.
“That’s not- You’re so- I’m the lead singer, Chrissy! I’m the face of the band. You don’t get that because you’re just someone who sits on the sidelines and watches. Without me, no one would care,” Eddie argued.
“So the boys don’t matter? Because they’ve been going to everything without you and done just fine,” Chrissy said with an incredulous laugh, stepping backward. “Admit it- you’re just mad that I moved back in and you haven’t been able to get your dick sucked in a couple weeks.”
Eddie reared back as if Chrissy had slapped him right across the face. He knew she didn't approve of his… active sex life, but she had never so blatantly condemned him for it.
She's just scared. She doesn't mean it. She's just terrified of Jason and she should be. She's right. Don't let it get to you. See past what she's saying and look at her , He silently begged himself, trying to force his body to stay right where it was this time.
Eddie began to walk out the door.
But as he passed Chrissy in the doorway, she grabbed him again, her hand latched around his upper arm in a death grip.
"Would you stay if I got on my knees and worshipped at the feet of ‘The Eddie Munson’? Is that the only way I’ll get you to care?” Chrissy asked, smiling up at him as the tears finally started to spill.
She was right of course, he was being selfish. But Eddie, much like most self centered egotistical assholes, didn’t like being shown the mirror. He never wanted to see his own ugliness thrown back at him.
“Go to hell, Chrissy,” He hissed, yanking himself out of her grip and walking down the hallway, trying to ignore the sound of her crying following his every footstep.
He had made it okay back then, or tried to at least. Eddie had told himself that she was overreacting, that she was drunk, that Chrissy just needed to get over herself. He had told himself everything except the truth- that his best friend was scared, alone, and vulnerable, and Eddie had just made things a thousand times worse.
But it would be fine. A few hours, and Eddie would go straight home. He would apologize and they would sit on the couch watching movies all night long. Maybe he’d even sing for her a bit to help her sleep, Chrissy always liked that.
Eddie was good with his words, smart and sharp and quick. He just needed a few hours to cool off, then he would come home and know exactly what to say to fix things.
But that’s not going to happen, Eddie thought as he stood in the elevator, still seething, you’re never going to get a chance to fix anything.
Those were the last words he ever said to Chrissy.
From here things always got fuzzy. Sometimes Eddie got to the party and stayed for awhile, sometimes he turned around, sometimes he even saw what happened between Chrissy and Jason, even though he had never actually watched the security camera footage. It existed, but he had never had the courage to watch it.
Because he was a coward. A coward, and a monster .
This time, the dream pulled a fast one. Eddie pushed open the door of their apartment building, and somehow he was opening the door of the penthouse. It was dark now, like it had been hours and hours.
They were going straight to the main event apparently.
“Chrissy?” His past self said into the darkness.
His body moved forward, but Eddie stayed where he was in the doorway, watching it all unfold like a ghost. He was trapped there, couldn’t even move his fingers, or close his eyes. Captured, forced to relive the worst moment of his life over and over.
“Chrissygirl, are you asleep?”
She’s not asleep. You know that. Don’t turn on the light. Don’t do it. Don’t turn on the light.
Eddie watched himself feel around on the wall for a moment before turning the lights on. Now he could see it all. His apartment, the windows, the open floor plan, the jackets.
Chrissy standing in the middle of it all, shaking and crying. Jason standing behind her, a deranged smile on his face and a gun in his hand.
Eddie wanted to scream. Maybe somewhere he was. He could hear something, an unfamiliar noise, something that normally wasn’t a part of the moment. But it was too soft to be a scream, too indescribable.
“Look who finally decided to come back home,” Jason said, his voice nearly drowned out by the sound. Eddie could barely even hear Chrissy crying now, and that wasn’t right. She had been so loud, she had sounded so scared.
This wasn’t right.
“What are you doing here?” Eddie heard himself say, the words barely coming out. Normally he was lost in this moment, unable to do a thing, but now Eddie found he could close his eyes, focusing on nothing but the sound.
Not sound. Music. It was music.
Soft music. Nothing like the stuff he liked to play. It was the kind of thing Chrissy liked to listen to. Gentle melody coming from a comforting voice, and something warm slowly sliding up and down on his back.
The dream was gone. Eddie was in the black nothingness. There were no gunshots, no screaming, not even crying anymore. Nothing but the darkness, the music, and the warmth.
Two drifters, off to see the world… there’s such a lot of world to see.
Eddie knew that song. Where did he know that song from?
Chrissy’s favorite movie. A movie she made him watch over and over, despite Eddie completely hating it. A song that reminded him of late Sunday mornings and stacks of pancakes and the smell of Chrissy’s blueberry shampoo.
The darkness began to take shape, slowly but surely, as Eddie drifted towards wakefulness. There was something soft underneath him, his head resting against a pillow. The only thing that didn’t fade was the music. That stayed, along with the sensation that Eddie could now identify as a hand rubbing slowly up and down on his bare back.
Moon river… and me.
The voice continued to hum in the quiet gravelly way someone does late at night. Eddie took in a slow deep breath, relishing the feeling for one moment more before pulling his eyes open.
“There you are,” Steve whispered, keeping his hand right where it was as Eddie looked up at him with wide eyes.
“I-”
Eddie coughed, his throat unexpectedly dry. Steve helped him to sit up, grabbing the glass of water on the bedside table and handing it over to Eddie who drank it greedily.
“I didn’t know you liked Audrey Hepburn,” Eddie said, trying for a lighthearted remark that might cut through the sudden awkwardness.
“I wanted to see if it would help. You were crying in your sleep,” Steve murmured, seeming suddenly uncomfortable. Experimentally, Eddie swiped underneath his eyes, and sure enough, his cheeks were damp.
“Huh, would you look at that,” Eddie remarked, not really sure what else he could say.
“It’s okay,” Steve commented, pausing for a second before he scooted a little closer, pushing into Eddie’s space, “but you do it a lot.”
A lot?
It had only been a month since their first date, and this was only the fourth or fifth time Steve had stayed the night. What constituted as a lot? How many times had Steve seen him like this?
Had Eddie ever said anything? Did he tell Steve things he couldn’t remember now? Was that how Steve knew to sing that song?
“Can you leave?” Eddie asked impulsively. It was getting hard to breathe, and the vulnerability was holding him by the neck in a choking grip.
“Eddie-”
“Please just go,” He repeated, resisting the urge to bury his face in his knees. Steve had already seen him look plenty pathetic tonight, he didn’t need to give any more displays of weakness.
Steve tried to protest a few more times, but Eddie stonewalled him, letting his face fall into a perfectly blank mask and acting like he couldn’t hear Steve at all. It was kind of a dick move, but Eddie was two steps away from a full meltdown, so he couldn’t really be bothered to care.
Finally, Steve got up and walked out of the room without another word, leaving Eddie at the mercy of the silence and the loneliness that followed him like a shadow.
The second he was alone, Eddie flopped onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. An empty white canvas stared back at him. Nothing to distract him, nothing to drag Eddie away from the darkness that was starting to take over. Steve had pulled him away from the end of the nightmare, but now that there was nothing but the ceiling, nothing but his thoughts, he was back in that moment.
“Eddie? I’m cold.”
Phantom goosebumps raised up on Eddie’s arms as he shuddered, closing his eyes. He was cold, but it felt like his hands were hot. Burning hot, and sticky with blood.
“I need to….t’tell you somethin’.”
He had never gotten that feeling to go away, had he? Most of the time he could pretend it wasn’t there, but there were days where he would spend hours in the bathroom scrubbing and scrubbing and scrubbing, only to still come away feeling stained by her blood.
“No, I need to… I have to tell you.”
He had asked her not to talk, begged her not to actually. Eddie couldn’t really remember exactly what he said, but he memorized every word she had said. They played on an endless loop in the back of his mind.
“Not your fault. Not you… love you.”
He was going to be sick.
Eddie stumbled as he practically threw himself out of bed, falling onto his hands and knees in a move that was probably going to leave bruises. He staggered upwards, lurching like a drunken bear towards the door and into the hallway. He was almost in the bathroom when a smell caught his attention, easing the nausea.
Apples.
Everything smelled like… apples.
Eddie paused, taking another deep breath in. Apples. Apples, and a strange scratching sound coming from the kitchen.
Wayne was spending the night in Indianapolis with friends. Either Steve was in his kitchen, or someone had conveniently broken in right after Eddie told Steve to leave. Eddie put his mental breakdown to the side, too intrigued by the odd turn of events.
It was Steve. He was still in his ratty old shirt and pajama shorts, the same ones Eddie had called sexy a few hours ago, just to make Steve roll his eyes and blush in that oh so beautiful way he always did. Steve was moving around the kitchen with a purpose, standing by the open trash can with a paring knife in one hand, and an apple in another.
“What are you… doing?” Eddie asked hesitantly, staying in the doorway of the kitchen.
“Do you know the secret to making the perfect apple pie?” Steve asked, continuing to peel apples in a studiously efficient manner. “There’s actually two of them. The first one is keeping your butter really cold. Pie crust always needs to be chilled, but your butter should be cold when it goes in too. That’s how you get really good flaky crusts.”
He pointed to a cling wrapped ball of dough resting on the counter as if it was evidence, putting the peeler down and storing the dough in the fridge, stopping by the knife block to grab a chef's knife and starting to chop up the apples. Four cuts down each side, then careful thin slices at a pace that was almost dizzying.
“I don’t understand,” Eddie said, stepping in and sticking close to the table. His stomach was back to normal, but the swirling thoughts in his head had yet to fade.
“The second one is Claudia’s secret. She used to use half granny smith and half honeycrisp in her recipe,” Steve continued as if Eddie hadn’t even spoken. “Granny smith apples are tart and hold their shape well, so your filling stays good and firm, but honeycrisps are sweet and mix with the caramel to create a delicious gooey center. She told me I was never allowed to tell anyone that except for Dustin, so you better keep that to yourself.”
“You don’t make pies,” Eddie finally stammered out. A lot of things were confusing about this moment, but that seemed like the easiest mystery to solve out of all of them.
“I only make one when someone really needs one, because my pies taste sad now,” Steve replied, keeping his voice soft and solemn as he finished chopping up the apples.
Or the pie thing was apparently the most confusing mystery.
“How can something taste sad?” Eddie asked, completely bewildered by the concept of a ‘sad’ pie. Steve hesitated, holding the chopping board full of apple slices mid-air as he contemplated how to explain.
“You'll see I suppose,” He finally muttered, dumping the apples into a large glass bowl and grabbing the cinnamon. Eddie watched him toss the apples quickly before picking up a saucepan.
“It was cancer, by the way.” Steve said suddenly as he stirred something sweet smelling on the stove.
“What was cancer?” Eddie questioned.
“Claudia.”
It was like someone had dumped a bucket of cold water right on top of Eddie’s head.
He knew Claudia was dead, and he knew it hadn’t been that long, but there was knowing all of that, and there was being confronted by the stark reality that Steve had lost his mother . A mother he clearly had adored.
Silence reigned over them like a dictator. Eddie couldn’t have spoken even if he wanted to, and Steve seemed to be working his way towards finding the right words. He got through a fair bit more of prep work before he finally spoke up again.
“When I was twenty, she started getting headaches. I told her to go to the doctor, but she kept saying it was stress. ‘It’s just stress, Steven, leave me be.’ Then one day we were working in the cafe, and she just collapsed out of nowhere.” Steve flipped the crust into the dish, putting the rolling pin to the side and turning off the stove. “I picked her up, carried her to the car, and drove like a total lunatic to the hospital. Scariest day of my life.”
Twenty. What was Eddie doing at twenty? Partying and living it up and at the height of his career. Certainly not worrying about Wayne dying. He wasn’t thinking about losing his family.
“It was an inoperable brain tumor. A glioblas-something or other. She liked to joke that she was too smart, and so God had to try and steal some of her goods.” Steve huffed out a soft laugh as he dumped whatever was in the pan over the apples, stirring to coat them all till they glistened and smelled absolutely divine.
“How long?” Eddie asked faintly, half shocked at his own boldness, half needing to know the rest of the story.
“They gave her a year. She died less than six months later,” Steve said, placing the apples in the crust and rolling out the second ball of dough. “Just long enough to transfer the bakery into my name and make sure her will stipulated that Dustin was only ever to be in my care.”
Twenty. At just twenty Steve not only had taken on the responsibility of the family business, but also agreed to raise his little brother completely alone. If Eddie had been handed that situation, he would have run for the hills. He never would have quietly shouldered all that responsibility that Steve seemed to carry so effortlessly.
“I was so mad at her,” Steve whispered as he slid the pie into the oven.
“At her?”
Eddie could understand being mad, but it made no sense to be mad at Claudia. It wasn’t like she wanted to get cancer. Was Steve mad that he had to take care of Dustin? Steve had always talked about Dustin like he was the most wonderful person in the entire world, but maybe things hadn’t always been that way?
All at once, Eddie realized that there was a lot he didn’t know about Steve. He always felt like such an open book, but here was this huge giant thing he knew nothing about. What else was there? It was like Eddie had been walking blindly towards a chasm this whole time, and he could finally see it.
“Her, the world, everything. I was just so fucking angry ,” Steve said, frustration lacing his tone. He closed the oven door, sitting down on the kitchen floor right beside it. “I felt like I had been cheated. I barely got any time at all, and she was just gone. It was like the universe saw I finally had something good, and- and-”
“Took it away because you didn’t deserve it?” Eddie filled in.
“Yeah,” Steve said, nodding tightly. It was the first time he had really turned around since Eddie had come into the kitchen, and Eddie could see everything on his face. The worry, the rage, the grief that still sat plain as day on every one of his features.
All at once the growing distance between them vanished. Eddie might not know every detail, but in the most important ways, they were the same. They had the same pain, the same burdens, the same emotions to hold onto. There were differences, big ones, but underneath that, at the core, Steve could understand what Eddie was going through better than almost anyone right now.
“What changed?” Eddie asked quietly, standing up just long enough to move to sit next to Steve on the floor.
“Dustin,” Steve replied, a small smile full of fondness overtaking his face as his eyes went soft. “Dustin got into a fight at school. He always got bullied, but when I went in they told me he started the fight. And it wasn’t even with one of his bullies. It was with Mike.”
“His friend Mike?” Eddie interrupted in shock.
He had never met the kids in person, but he had a pretty good idea of who they were from Steve’s stories. Mike seemed like a bit of a hot head, but Dustin was logical, and sweet as a button. Sure, some of that was probably brotherly bias, but it still felt wildly out of character for Dustin to be the one starting a fight with anyone, much less one of his best friends.
“Yeah, his friend Mike,” Steve said, stopping to turn and give Eddie a glance. The utter adoration in his eyes nearly bowled Eddie over, and he was forced to take a sharp breath in.
All Eddie had done was remember the name of one of Dustin’s friends, but Steve was looking at him like he hung the sun, the moon, and all of the stars.
“What’d you do?” Eddie asked, coughing awkwardly as he broke eye contact, unable to handle being given all of that love when he didn’t deserve it.
“I brought him home, and I tried to do the whole parent thing. The lecture, the grounding, all of it. Dustin just stood there and stared at me,” Steve said, falling back into his story easily. “And I got mad, because I was always mad then. I yelled at him, I grounded him for a year. He still just stood there and… and stared.”
Steve stopped here balancing his right elbow on his knee and pinching the bridge of his nose. Eddie froze for a second at the sudden display of emotion, before awkwardly reaching over and intertwining his fingers with Steve’s free hand. Steve pulled away ever so slightly on instinct, but quickly latched onto Eddie just as tightly, dipping down for a second to press their heads together before going back to his original position.
“Then when I was finally done he just rolled his eyes, and said that he didn’t care. That he didn’t know how to care about anything anymore.” Steve sighed, letting his head rest against the oven door and closing his eyes.
“That’s when it hit me. I couldn’t stay angry forever. I couldn’t focus on what the universe had taken from me, because I still had people who needed me. I had Dustin and he needed me here to tell him that there was still good in the world,” Steve stated.
Eddie bit his lip so he wouldn’t scoff or do something equally disgusting. It was a good sentiment, a wonderful one actually, but Eddie just couldn’t see it. How could a good world exist when people like Chrissy and Claudia died the way they did? What was the point of pretending like things were ever going to be good, when it was so clear they wouldn’t?
Then he thought about it again. Steve hadn’t said a ‘good world’. He had said ‘good in the world’. There was an almost imperceptible difference there, but it was an important one.
Maybe the world wasn’t good, Eddie wasn’t sure if he could ever believe it was, but there was good in it. Steve was determined to find that good, if for his brother than for no other reason.
It was funny, somehow Steve didn’t realize he was the good in the world. Eddie couldn’t think of anyone who had brought him more good.
“So, I picked Dustin up, carried him into the kitchen, and I made him an apple pie. And he cried, and I cried, and the next day we started over,” Steve said, like it was the simplest thing in the entire world.
“Just like that?” Eddie said unconsciously, completely unable to comprehend what Steve had just said.
Start over? How?
“Just like that,” Steve repeated, giving Eddie a tiny smile. He squeezed their hands together, looking behind them and into the oven.
“Pie’s ready,” Steve whispered, leaning over and kissing Eddie’s cheek, “Go sit at the table, I’ll cut you a slice.”
As Steve busied himself with getting the pie out of the oven, Eddie hovered over to the fridge. There were dozens of magnets from all of the places he had gone to, everywhere he had toured. Postcards and pictures, and there, in the middle, a picture of him and Chrissy.
It was an early one from the days when they still all lived in Indianapolis. Chrissy was wearing cutoff jean shorts and a big blue sweater, and Eddie was in his usual band tee and ripped jeans. They had their arms around each other’s shoulders, and Chrissy’s head was tossed back in a joyous laugh.
A soft hum came from behind, and Eddie grabbed the picture, slipping it out from under the magnet from Tokyo and coming to the table to sit with Steve.
As Steve handed him a blue china plate, Eddie silently handed Steve the picture. He couldn’t say anything, couldn’t give a story like Steve had given him, but it felt unbalanced to leave things the way they were.
“Grief is a stone in your shoe, Eddie,” Steve murmured as Eddie cut off his first bite. He was looking down at the photo with a strange expression on his face.
“A stone?”
“It’s always there, and you can always feel it. Some days it’s just a little nuisance, something you acknowledge, but move past. You can even forget it’s there. And some days that stone is all you can feel. You just want to scream and you need everyone to know that there’s a fucking stone in your shoe and it hurts,” Steve took a slow deep breath, scooting his chair around to Eddie’s side.
“I know you’re still getting used to your stone. But you aren’t alone,” He whispered, pressing a kiss to Eddie’s shoulder and resting his head against the same spot.
Eddie lifted his spoon to his lips. The pie was good, warm and sweet with a hint of tartness and a flaky crust. It was delicious, but there was a melancholy in it. Something that was real, that tasted like how he had felt every day since that night.
“She was My Person,” Eddie managed to get out, putting down his spoon and squeezing his eyes shut against the tears that always came when he thought about Chrissy. “My Robin.”
Steve didn’t say anything. He didn’t give any of the meaningless apologies that people seemed to love so much. He just sat there, sharing the moment, letting Eddie live in his pain.
“This pie does taste sad,” Eddie said with an incredulous little laugh, choking on his grief.
“But still sweet,” Steve added, reaching out and grabbing Eddie’s spoon.
“Yeah,” Eddie murmured, turning his head so he could kiss the top of Steve’s head, “Still sweet.”