Eddie didn't see much of Steve for the next couple of days. Truth be told, he hadn't left his trailer since leaving Nancy's house. The second he had arrived; he had stumbled on to the couch and fallen asleep. When he next woke up, it was dark outside. His thoughts were thick and heavy, and he had to blink several times before his focus became clear.

After that Eddie doesn't remember much.

He doesn't remember how the trailer became such a mess, although he has brief glimpses every now and then, of his shaken breath, his slurred speech and shouts, his hysteria as he tore the place apart, searching every cupboard and draw until he found the small containers he craved so badly, inside a sea of blue and white that seemed to fade away a little each time he came back, until there was nothing left inside.

He knew eventually he'd have to leave. The ready-made meals in his fridge were disappearing slowly and the amount of empty beer bottles that littered his floor seemed to increase every day.

He wished Wayne was here. Not that he'd ever cleaned the place up, or cooked for Eddie, but he was the only real father-figure he'd had since his dad had left. Eddie felt lonely without him, the silence was too heavy without another presence beside him, and Eddie found it unbearable.

This was his life now. He smoked, he drank, he slept. After nearly a week, Eddie had begun to think everyone had forgotten about him. He felt foolish for thinking Nancy or Robin would have stopped by to visit. And he felt even worse when he had hoped that maybe, just maybe, Steve might come by too.