goldenbats
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So, yeah, he could leave. He could get in the van, turn the key, blast some music loud enough to drown out his thoughts and drive until the night opens up into something else. He could stop letting himself orbit Steve fucking Harrington like this, bright and dangerous and entirely too close.
Instead, Eddie tips his head back and stares at the stars, mouth curling into a wry, anticipatory smile. Because he knows how this goes. He knows the rhythm now. Steve will show up, tense and wound too tight, frustration clinging to him like static. Eddie will be here, exactly where he said he’d be, exactly where Steve expects him.