Chapter Text
Ten Years Later
When Steve looks at the photo on the shelf, with the dim lights of the living room and the sunset’s golden glow filtering through the windows, he realizes how far they've come. It's an image from the first time Eddie stepped onto the stage with his band, Sunlight Reign. His long hair, his bright eyes, the guitar hanging with a defiant air: the same passion Steve still sees in him every day. But in that photo, there’s something more. A spark, something Steve had noticed before, but seeing the image now, it strikes him with a clarity it never had before: Eddie never needed more than the music and his own truth to shine.
Sunlight Reign hadn't just been Eddie's dream; it had been a rebirth. The first album, Wild Eyes, took off quietly, growing slowly but with unstoppable force. They went from playing small bars to filling stadiums, from performing in second-tier clubs to winning awards, from being unknowns to becoming fan favorites. And every time Eddie came back from a tour, Steve was always there. Always.
In the early days, when Eddie and Steve were just two boys looking for a way out of everything they'd lived through, Steve was amazed at how easy it was to leave with him, knowing they had a place to come back to, someone—Wayne—waiting patiently for them. How easy it was to leave Hawkins behind, their fears, and embrace something as clear as the moon: love, music, and the promise of a future. And although the tours and the pace of life on the road often kept them apart, Eddie always came back, and with him, the feeling that their love hadn’t just endured, but had grown.
He remembers Sunlight Reign's first album as if it were yesterday. Eddie had told him that Wild Eyes wasn’t just about music, but a message. The song that gave the album its title spoke about looking at the world with fresh eyes, despite the scars of the past. On the album cover, their hands intertwined, Steve recalled that for Eddie, it had a much more personal meaning.
It was never easy. The long tours, the days without seeing Eddie, the calls from airports. Steve got used to the lonely nights with Wayne, to the stillness of home that felt incomplete without Eddie. But he knew it would be worth it, because every time Eddie came back, after weeks or months, something deeper was born between them. Something only time can offer.
They went through a tough time; nothing in life is exempt from those bumps. However, in that stumble, Steve never doubted they would make it through, no matter the cost, no matter how long it took. They had done it before, and they knew they could do it again.
Sunlight Reign was at the top, but for Eddie, it was beginning to feel like an unbearable weight. Fame had never been his goal, but now that he had reached it, the constant noise of the industry and the press was suffocating him. Interviews, photo sessions, awards... all of it no longer reflected his music; it had become a burden. It was becoming harder and harder to tell whether he was controlling his life or just being swept along by the current. The paparazzi, the rumors, the demands of the fans, the music... everything was crumbling into a whirlwind of anxiety.
The lights shone brightly on stage, but Eddie felt more and more lost in the darkness, like a shadow of himself. He had sought refuge in drugs, looking for that quick escape, that fleeting relief that kept him afloat in a sea of other people's expectations. It wasn’t the first time substances had entered his life, but this time, something felt different. The pills, the alcohol... they only offered him temporary relief from the chaos. But that relief was never enough.
It was one of those tour nights, right after returning from Europe, in the middle of the chaos of concerts and parties, when Steve realized just how bad things were. It wasn’t in the dressing rooms or in the brightly lit hallways of the stage, where the voices of the crowd filled the air. Nor was it in the bustle of fame. It was in the dark corridors of a cheap hotel, where the reality of life on the road felt the rawest. Eddie was there, hunched in a corner, a bottle of pills in his trembling hand, the other arm covering his face, as if trying to hide his despair. The air was thick with something heavy.
Steve didn’t know how to react. He’d seen Eddie go through hard times before, but this time, something was different. Eddie wasn’t seeking refuge in his guitar or in the euphoria of the stage. This time, he was losing control.
—Eddie—Steve said, his voice soft, almost hesitant. He approached carefully, but Eddie didn’t look up. The streetlights filtered through the window, dimly illuminating the room. But all Steve could see was the absolute silence that surrounded them.
—I’m not okay—Eddie replied, his voice broken, almost inaudible. Steve knew. There was something in his posture, in the way he moved, that wasn’t Eddie. The sense of being trapped, of having no way out, was palpable.
Eddie had always been the rebellious one, the one who hid behind his music to avoid showing vulnerability. Darkness had always accompanied him, but in that moment, it was consuming him. He wasn’t the Eddie Steve knew anymore. Now, he saw the person he loved shattered, something he never wanted to admit. The strong Eddie, the one who had always fought against the world, was fading.
—Let’s go home, Eddie—Steve said, without hesitation. He stretched his hand toward him, feeling his erratic pulse. Eddie didn’t say anything, but his gaze said it all. He was lost.
—I can’t, Steve. I don’t know how to face all this. The band, the fame, the press. They’re always on me.—Eddie whispered, as if those words were devouring him. —They always expect more from me. They’re drowning me.
It was the truth Eddie had never had the courage to admit. Fame hadn’t just changed him; it had overwhelmed him. Everything he had dreamed of—the music, the escape—had become a gilded cage. And Steve finally understood that fame wasn’t what Eddie had expected. It was a monster that was consuming him.
Steve embraced him, no longer with the fiery passion of the early days. Not with the love born from the youthful spark of those chaotic times. It was a different kind of embrace, protective. Steve didn’t know if he wanted to give Eddie strength, or if he needed him to give it to him. But in that moment, they were just there, together.
—You’re not alone, Eddie—Steve whispered in his ear—. We’ve always done this together. No matter what happens, I’m here. Don’t let this beat you.
Eddie nodded, but his eyes remained empty. That internal struggle, that weight that suffocated him, was something even Steve didn’t know how to fix. It was bigger than their love. It was bigger than both of them.
That night, Wayne arrived at the hotel. No words were needed. He simply saw Eddie, the way Steve held him, and the deep sadness in his son’s eyes.
—Eddie—Wayne said, his voice calm but firm—. I’m going to tell you something you’ll never forget. You don’t have to carry all this alone. Don’t let the noise of the world make you lose yourself. The music has always been yours, not for anyone else. If you can’t control it, maybe it’s time to step back and think about what you really want.
The rest of the tour was a long process, like rebuilding something broken in many ways. Eddie began to seek moments away from the spotlight, those spaces where he could breathe, far from the paparazzi and the fans. Sometimes, Steve was there, by his side, as a refuge. He was no longer the guy who kept Eddie afloat, but the reason Eddie wanted to save himself.
Returning to a more "normal" life was slower than Steve had imagined. Eddie had to learn to detach himself from the crutches that fame had given him, the very things that had lost him. But, over time, he began to rediscover music as his refuge, as his true expression.
As all of this unfolded, Steve watched from a distance as Eddie struggled to find his peace. What hurt the most, though also brought him some comfort, was knowing that the reason Eddie hadn’t fallen into darkness was because he had always been there. Not as a quick fix, but as the home to return to.
Wayne was right, as always.
—This kid isn’t perfect, and he never intended to be. —Steve finally understood. —But sometimes, what he needs the most is someone to remind him he’s not alone.
Steve understood. Over the years, he had witnessed Eddie learning to be his best version, even though life hadn't always been easy. Still, in the end, Steve had always been there, no matter what the world thought, because deep down, he knew Eddie’s music wasn’t just the sound of guitars and the shouts of fans. It was his soul searching for a place to rest.
The love that had started in the chaotic days of Hawkins had changed. It was no longer the love that had hidden in the shadows, nor the one that made their hearts beat together in the dark. Now, the love Eddie and Steve shared was deeper, more understanding, but above all, more real.
Years ago, everything had been a whirlwind. When they looked at each other, the spark that had brought them together was still there, but with time, there was something else: patience. Not just the patience of knowing that what they had was worth more than any fame or problem, but the patience to understand that sometimes, they didn’t need to speak to understand each other. A simple glance was enough.
Steve leaned against the doorframe, watching Eddie in the studio. The sound of his guitar strings filled the room, as if everything they had lived and everything they had overcome had become music. It didn’t matter how many platinum records they had or how many awards lined the shelf. None of that was as important as these moments, when there were no cameras, no lights, just the two of them, together.
Eddie looked up for a moment, and their eyes met. It was the same look from years ago, but now with less fear and more trust.
—I love you, princess—Eddie said, and it wasn’t just a declaration. It was a reminder of everything they had been through together, of what they had taught each other. Steve smiled, the smile that never disappeared. He didn’t answer with words; he simply moved closer and let himself fall into the armchair beside Eddie.
He looked at him for a second. Eddie’s eyes were shining with a serenity that hadn’t been there before.
—I love you too, Ed.
They didn’t need to say more. In those small gestures, in those shared silences, they spoke more than any words could. Love didn’t always have to be loud or passionate. There was a softness, something warm and constant, that had been shaping them over time. And yet, inside, the flame that never went out still burned, that wild passion that ignited with the simple act of touching.
The early days together, when everything was new, had been a whirlwind of emotions, unexpected trips, and overflowing dreams. There were moments of uncertainty, of fear of losing each other amid so much exposure and chaos. But over time, Steve had learned to find himself in Eddie’s love. It was no longer about being saved or escaping the world, but about a daily choice: a conscious decision to stay united, not despite their differences, but because of them.
The relationship they had nurtured over the years was no longer just a youthful desire, but a tacit pact, a promise to support each other in the lows and celebrate in the highs. They understood each other in a way only time could build: with no expectations or pressures, just the conviction that they wanted to walk together into the future.
There were days when Eddie had to go on tour, and Steve stayed behind, but despite the distance, nothing ever broke. They still wrote letters, sent silly polarids, songs, cheesy memories from every place Eddie visited. —I miss you— they’d say at the end of every call, and although those words seemed simple, they carried more weight than anything else.
Wayne had witnessed all of this. As always, he was the first to say something when things got too intense, and sometimes, Steve was surprised by how far the relationship had come, one that had started with so much uncertainty and tension. Now, everything was… full. No unnecessary conflicts, no broken promises.
Eddie had never been good with words, despite how talkative he could be. But over time, he had learned to show his love not only through grand gestures but in small moments of complicity: a touch of the hand in the middle of the crowd, a whisper in the ear after a concert.
And although life had given them many chances to lose themselves, they both knew they would always find each other.
The future wasn’t something they feared, but something they embraced together. And Steve, while watching Eddie finish writing a song, realized something simple: they didn’t need anything else. Just this. Just the promise of moving forward, of continuing to grow, of continuing to be.
Love, in the end, isn’t a struggle. It’s a dance, sometimes slow, sometimes quick, but always in the same rhythm.
And in their case, it had always been the love that Eddie and Steve had built, one that had grown and evolved, but had never stopped being theirs.
Eddie never imagined that Steve Harrington, the guy who had been the king of Hawkins, would find his peace and true calling on a small farm in the mountains. When life in Hawkins exploded with chaos, creatures from the upside down, and the scars of what had been lived, Steve found himself trapped in a limbo. He didn’t know if he wanted to stay or if he could move forward. But now, here, on this farm far from the spotlight, he had found something Eddie never would have imagined: the serenity he so desperately needed.
Often, Eddie would sit on the porch of the house, watching Steve work on the farm. The scene was so peaceful that sometimes it seemed unreal. Steve, with his hands covered in dirt while planting in the garden or fixing a fence, surrounded by the animals he loved so much. Eddie, in contrast, spent most of his life traveling between concerts, rehearsals, and interviews. The band was still touring, and although the sales numbers were impressive, Eddie couldn’t help but feel empty. The life on stage had given him fame, but it never offered what he truly desired: that peace Steve had found in his little rural kingdom.
What had started as a small project for Steve had grown into something much bigger over the years. The farm had grown, just like he had. At first, it was just an escape, a corner to disconnect from the noise of the world. The house needed repairs, but the land was fertile and soon gave life to vegetable crops and flowers that brought him unique satisfaction. Steve wasn’t born to be a farmer or a builder, but the farm had taught him the value of hard work, of simplicity, of what really matters.
Over time, the improvements in the house were noticeable: the walls Eddie had helped paint, the new windows, the fences Steve had installed, and a small shed for the animals that, over the years, had multiplied. Cows, horses, chickens, and rescued dogs roamed the field. Everything was in its place, like a parallel world where the grandeur of fame had no place.
Life on the farm followed a different rhythm than Eddie’s. For Steve, each day was a comforting routine. From dawn to dusk, the work never stopped: taking care of the cows, feeding the animals, fixing the fence, or gathering eggs from the chickens. Then, when evening came, after a day full of tasks, he would sit with Eddie, talking about everything and nothing, watching the sun slowly set behind the mountains.
Steve had such a natural way of talking about those simple days that Eddie sometimes found himself surprised by how happy he seemed in the midst of such tranquility. It was a subtle happiness, but evident, as if he had finally found his purpose, as if all the pieces of the puzzle had fallen into place perfectly.
During the winter, when the tours slowed down and the band's pace decreased, Steve took the opportunity to focus on the garden and other projects. But his true hobby was writing stories. He did it in his spare time, with Wayne's help. Steve would plan the stories, talking about dragons, magical animals, or imaginary worlds, and Wayne would transcribe them with his old typewriter. Steve would get migraines if he tried to write by hand for too long, but he didn’t mind. Somehow, it gave him peace.
Eddie used to listen to those stories with a mix of fascination and affection. Even though he was trapped in the world of showbiz, he always found a breath of fresh air when he returned to the farm. There, he could relax, be himself, without the pressures of fame. Steve not only waited for him with the warmth of the house, but also with a tranquility that only he seemed able to offer.
Steve had never sought to be in the spotlight. In fact, he greatly enjoyed life away from public attention. He didn’t appear in interviews or in the band’s photos. He was Eddie’s boyfriend, and that was all. Sometimes, he’d accompany him on some tours, especially during the colder months when the farm didn’t require as much attention. But he always stayed in the shadows, observing from the side, supporting Eddie from behind, with no need to be part of the public life that surrounded him.
Even though Eddie was the star, Steve became his anchor, his sun. When the tours became especially exhausting and Eddie felt the weight of the world crushing him, Steve was there, waiting at a distance, sometimes in the dressing rooms, other times sitting at the kitchen table when Eddie returned from those endless nights.
Steve never demanded anything from Eddie, never pressured him to leave the band or insisted that he take a break. But in the difficult days, when fame made Eddie lose his way, Steve was the only constant. He was Eddie’s refuge, the place where he could breathe without the constant noise of the cameras, the place where he could feel that his life was something more than his public image.
For Steve, stories were a very personal thing, an escape where he could express his thoughts. The ones he shared with Wayne and Eddie were so simple, so full of kindness, that Eddie often found himself surprised by how deep they could be. The tales spoke of unlikely heroes, fantastic creatures that reflected their own feelings, dreams that could never come true, but in that world of fiction, seemed possible.
Steve wrote as if each word was a part of him, a way to heal the wounds he still carried. And although he never sought fame, one day his stories became something bigger than he ever imagined. After sharing them for years, Eddie and Wayne suggested he publish them, though Steve did so under the pseudonym “S. Munson,” a way to keep himself off the radar and away from the public attention he had always avoided.
For Steve, the stories were never a tool to be recognized, but rather a way to heal, to find comfort in a world that sometimes felt too big for him.
Wayne, for his part, never sought to be part of the literary world, nor to live under the spotlight of fame. But the fact that his involvement was crucial in creating those stories only deepened his bond with Steve. Wayne became a pillar in his life, an anchor that kept him connected to reality and to the emotions he couldn’t express. In their conversations, over coffee and cigarettes, between farm projects and repairs, Wayne always had a word of encouragement, a wise perspective that helped Steve center himself, to find clarity. Sometimes, Eddie felt that Wayne knew more than Steve would ever say aloud.
And in part, that was what bound the three of them together: the unspoken understanding, the unconditional support, without the need for words.
Steve was never a man who sought the spotlight. Though the stories he created began to gain some notoriety, Steve remained steadfast in his decision to stay in the shadows. He didn’t attend interviews or appear at literary events. But sometimes, when the stories came to life on bookstore shelves, Steve couldn’t help but smile to himself, knowing that his words, his thoughts, had touched someone, even if he wouldn’t admit it.
Life on the farm continued to be his refuge, the place where he could be himself, away from the limelight and the expectations. Even though the outside world kept turning, for Steve, what truly mattered was right there, among the trees, plants, and animals. It was his quiet life, a life that had finally led him to find a purpose beyond what he’d lived in Hawkins.
Eddie had more of a narrative bent between the two of them, but Eddie’s strength lay in creating worlds of fantasy and action—things far more suited to D&D campaigns—while Steve’s stories were meant to comfort, to lull a child into an impossible yet soothing world when they fell asleep. He had such a warm way of capturing all his fantasies that, although they were children’s stories, many of Steve’s readers were far from children.
Sometimes, Eddie gave him ideas; other times, he simply lay on the couch, watching as Steve read aloud. And sometimes, when everything became too much for Eddie, it was Steve’s embrace that kept him standing. It was his home.
Steve didn’t need to be the center of attention to feel complete. He had found his place in the world, a place where he could share his life with Eddie, away from the flash and the cameras. And though the world continued, there was always something in Steve’s embrace that told Eddie that, no matter how frantic his life was, he would always have a corner to rest in.
To Eddie, Steve had never been the kind of person who’d be interested in things like chicken coops, gardens, or beehives. But there he was, surrounded by the creatures of the earth, working in his little rural kingdom as if it were the only thing that truly mattered. Every time Steve ventured out into the fields, with hands covered in dirt and a serene smile, followed by his dogs, his skin beautifully tanned by the sun, and his hair tousled by the wind, Eddie couldn’t help but think that, somehow, Steve had found his peace in the midst of a world that had always seemed so chaotic.
Even though the outside world always demanded something from Eddie, there, on the farm, Steve kept him grounded. He didn’t care that fame and the spotlight shone on Eddie while he remained just a figure of support in the shadows, the silent hand that always cared for him. And Eddie was grateful for that stillness that Steve offered him. He felt that it was the only time he could breathe freely, when life was reduced to something much simpler.
Eddie didn’t know when he started seeing Wayne and Steve as a unit. At first, he felt a little excluded from the bond they shared. He saw how Wayne became a key figure for Steve. He wasn’t just Eddie’s father; he was someone with whom Steve shared a much deeper relationship, a connection that went beyond mere advice. Wayne had become a kind of silent mentor for Steve, someone with whom he could share doubts, frustrations, and that eternal feeling of being trapped between what others wanted and what he truly needed.
Eddie knew that Wayne was wiser than him. He had always had the ability to see beyond the obvious, to offer Steve that serene wisdom that sometimes Eddie didn’t know how to give him. When the pressures of the world became unbearable, Wayne had a way of speaking that calmed Steve’s worries, even without being overly emotional.
Eddie watched them together, chatting as they repaired a fence or shared a cup of coffee in the small kitchen. Though he didn’t always understand all the words they said, he knew that, for Steve, those moments with Wayne were an anchor amidst the storm that sometimes raged around him.
Eddie knew Steve’s life was more than just being his partner. Steve had never wanted the attention, the lights, or the noise that came with Eddie’s success. But there was something in his presence that made everything much more bearable.
Eddie liked how Steve never tried to compete with the chaos that was his life. Steve never asked for anything, didn’t care to be part of the scene, and didn’t expect Eddie to lead him by the hand every step of the way. What he wanted was for Eddie to be there with him, simply living. There was no need to prove anything. What they had between them was something the world couldn’t see or understand. It was their own language, one made of small but deeply meaningful gestures.
And that was all Eddie needed. Steve offered him something that he himself couldn’t give to the world: peace amid the chaos, a space where they could exist without pressures. Eddie realized that, although his life was so public, the true connection didn’t come from fans or cameras, but from those days when Steve showed him that, no matter what the world said, all that really mattered was right there: in the tranquility that only he could give him.
Eddie lay back in the rocking chair that Wayne had made and Steve painted black, watching as the sunset bathed the fields surrounding their house in orange. By his side, Steve murmured something about the next story he wanted to write, his voice soft and focused, full of that sparkle that Eddie adored. Steve had never been a man of many words, but when he talked about his stories, his projects, it was as though everything he had lived through, everything he had overcome, manifested in each sentence.
Eddie never imagined he would see Steve like this: so at peace, so complete. It was curious how, after so many years of chaos, fears, and internal battles, Steve had found refuge in something as simple as stories. And the best part: Steve had found happiness. Eddie had spent much of his life worrying about him, but now... now he saw him with a calm that made him smile from the bottom of his heart. Seeing him happy gave him a peace he never thought he’d find, and if you asked him, he’d say that was the greatest victory of all.
Despite the tranquility surrounding them now, the connections to the past still remained. Though their lives were different, they stayed in touch with Robin, Dustin, and Erica. They were the same bonds, the ones that never faded, even as the world around them had changed. Robin kept sending letters full of sarcasm and love, and Dustin, ever with his unshakable enthusiasm, called them once a month. Even Erica, who had become something of a phenomenon at her university, occasionally surprised them with a call or, sometimes, a surprise visit.
In fact, Eddie smiled to himself as he remembered how, at Sunlight Reign’s last concert near Erica’s university, she had been there, sitting in a corner with a band t-shirt on, as if time had never passed.
But what really mattered, what Eddie treasured most deeply, was that little corner of the world he had found with Steve. Eddie didn’t need fame or crowds. He didn’t need concerts or awards. What he needed was exactly what he had at that moment: Steve by his side, the fresh air of the farm, the stories they told together, and the stillness he only found when he saw Steve smiling as he thought about new adventures for his books.
The future no longer felt so uncertain. Eddie knew that, as long as they were together, everything would be fine. And for the first time in a long time, the noise of the world outside didn’t matter so much. The only thing that truly mattered was what was inside their home, in their life: Steve, the stories, the love they shared, and that little corner of peace they had finally found.
And, in that corner, Eddie discovered that true happiness didn’t come from fame or the adrenaline of the stage, but from something much simpler: Steve’s love, the peace only he could offer him, and that sense of belonging that filled his heart.
To Robin’s surprise, everyone, except Steve and Eddie, had kept in constant contact. Even she, Nancy, Jonathan, and the California guy, Argyle, had all ended up in Boston, while the "kids" had made plans to attend the same university when their time came.
Despite everything, they would still come back to Hawkins from time to time because their parents still lived there, though they visited less since Hopper and Joyce had moved to a house in Chicago, where he had already secured a job with a veterinarian friend of Hopper. The town, however, had recovered as if the earthquakes, the manhunt for Eddie Munson, and everything that had happened had never occurred. Even when Eddie became famous with his band and started appearing on MTV and other shows, the "Munson boy" was immediately recognized by everyone, as if he had never been spat on and called a murderer.
But Steve and Eddie, they were a different story. Robin only spoke with them once a week, for half an hour, and their conversations were surface-level: what classes Robin was taking, what kind of job she was looking for, where Eddie was on tour. Then, when Steve became a published author, they’d talk about book release dates. Sometimes, she even knew they’d talk to Dustin once a month, but what surprised everyone was how close they had become with Erica, the only one who had moved farther away, to North Carolina.
They knew a lot about Eddie through his public life, but Steve... they didn’t know much about Steve. Neither they nor she had seen him in years. And although he still sounded almost the same on the phone, there was something in his voice that had changed. Something in him was different.
Maybe all of this explained the anxiety that lingered in the air. It wasn’t the first time they had gathered; they always tried to meet two or three times a year, but Steve and Eddie always declined the invitation. However, this year, ten years after Vecna burned in the dark, they agreed to meet, but on one condition: it wouldn’t be in Hawkins.
When they said that, everyone agreed that Hopper’s house in Chicago would be the perfect place; it had a large yard for a barbecue. Robin had tried many times to get Steve or Eddie to tell her more about their lives, where they were, what they were doing, but she only got vague answers: “We’re good, Robs. With therapy and everything.” And the topic was always quickly changed. The anxiety and uncertainty of seeing her once-best friend again ate away at her inside.
She nervously looked around, noticing the heavy silence filling the space. Although they were all adults now, with the "kids" already past their twenties and they themselves nearing thirty, in these gatherings, they forgot their ages and reverted to the time when everything started in 1983. She knew the silence was due to the anticipation of their arrival. Waiting for Steve and Eddie.
Time seemed to freeze when suddenly, a loud, happy, and completely familiar laugh echoed from one side of the house. They all fell silent, frozen, as if the air had stopped, staring at the door that opened to welcome them.
And there they were, Steve and Eddie, with a cooler in hand.
Thanks to Eddie’s public life, everyone knew the man hadn’t changed much in the decade that had passed. Though in the months away from the public eye, working on a new album, it seemed to have suited him. Eddie was somewhat tan, with lightly rosy cheeks, his hair no longer the wild mass he used to wear at concerts, but rather a cascade of perfectly cared-for, elegant curls falling to his waist. He wore a red crop top that revealed his torso, covered with tattoos that hid his scars, and although anyone might think he was slim, Robin knew, because she had asked Steve, that Eddie ate what two or three people would eat, but never gained weight. And there was nothing wrong with him. He had an enviable figure, one that Robin couldn’t help but admire.
His pale legs were exposed thanks to some poorly cut denim shorts, but somehow, they were so... Eddie. Robin couldn’t help but smile, a light, genuine smile that escaped without her meaning to.
With her heart racing, she diverted her gaze to Steve.
Steve.
Steve looked beautiful.
His hair had grown far more than anyone could have imagined. It was free of products, allowed to grow naturally. His skin had a golden glow, the healthy tan of someone who spends time outdoors, highlighting his brown eyes and the gold in his glasses. The white ink tattoos covering his arms, visible through his own crop top, gave a sense of freedom, as if he had fully let himself go.
He was bigger, broader, more solid. Not from hours at the gym, but from hard work, from the life he had chosen. Robin didn’t know exactly what Steve did, but seeing him there, with that familiar smile, something in her chest calmed. As if, for the first time, he was finally where he belonged.
His face shone, and for the first time in a long time, Robin saw something in him she hadn’t seen before: peace.
He looked happy. Free. Radiant. And now she understood, she understood it all. She knew why Eddie sometimes called him “sun princess,” or why his band was called Sunlight Reign.
Steve was a sun.
It wasn’t just the afternoon light or the heat of summer. It was something deeper, something that filled the space around him. It was as if Steve had found his own balance, his own center. And Eddie, standing beside him, looked at him with a softness in his eyes that Robin had never seen before. There was something in his gaze that made it clear they understood each other in a way that didn’t need words, as if the love between them was the foundation of everything they were now.
Suddenly, Robin understood. The separation, the distance, had been the best thing they could have done, though it had been painful at the time. It was what had allowed them to rebuild, to rediscover themselves, and become who they were now. They had given each other the space they needed to heal and grow. And by doing so, they had found each other in a way that perhaps they never would have if they had stayed together amid the chaos.
It was clear that the love they shared now, so calm and solid, was the reason they both looked so complete. No one else could have completed them like this.
Robin smiled, unable to help it, as she felt a mix of nostalgia and happiness for them. She had seen them go through so much, and now, in this moment, everything seemed to have fallen into place. Steve and Eddie, so distant, so separated from everyone for so long, were now here, together, shining in a way Robin had never imagined.
Sometimes, things need to break before they can be rebuilt. And in this case, the wait had been worth it.
Fin de la historia - The end of the story - La fin de l'histoire - Das Ende der Geschichte - La fine della storia - Fim da história - Tarina loppu