( shit. this would've been easier if eddie'd snapped at him. if he'd gotten pissed back at steve. but watching eddie curl in on himself, shrinking against the wall of the garage, just makes steve feel like an asshole. and that, in turn, makes him madder. he's not the asshole here. he's not the one who vanished in the night, not caring who he broke in the process and leaving other people to pick up the pieces. leaving steve to pick up the pieces.

and yet. steve feels some of the fight go out of him. because he's not an asshole, and kicking someone when they're down isn't his style—not anymore. he rolls his head, glancing briefly up at the ceiling, then back down at the car eddie was working on. he hisses, ) Jesus Christ. ( and then kicks the front tire on the dodge, releasing a final burst of anger before it fizzles down, simmering just beneath his skin.

he sighs, and walks slowly over to where eddie's sitting against the wall. he drops his arms and places his hands on his hips instead, standing a foot from eddie. ) You want to know what I think? ( he doesn't wait for eddie to respond. ) I think you're full of shit, Munson.

( his tone is softer, though, lacking any sort of bite or vitriol. )

You really think you're gonna convince me you're a coward, after what you did to help us save Hawkins? No way, man. ( he throws up one hand, pacing in front of eddie as he talks. ) An idiot, maybe. ( and there's some of that anger seeping back in. ) But not a coward.

( he comes to stillness again in front of eddie, then crouches down to meet his eyes. )

Did you call me this morning?