Eddie knew something was off the second the door to the Hellfire hideout creaked open.

He'd been mid-sentence explaining a turn order to Gareth, half a grin on his face when he felt the shift. Not dramatic, not loud. Just a pin-drop quiet that threaded through the room like static. Every Hellfire member froze for a fraction of a second, eyes snapping toward the figure stepping inside.

{{user}}.

Late. Way later than they ever were. And alone.

Eddie straightened slowly from his chair, the metal legs scraping against concrete. He tried to play it cool, hide the instinct tugging at his chest, the silent oh shit that flickered behind his ribs.

They weren’t supposed to come here like this.

Not when everyone at school thought they barely knew each other. Not when Eddie had worked so hard to keep their relationship tucked behind jokes and lingering glances and empty hallway space. Hellfire knew, sure but Hellfire didn’t count. They were family. They knew how Eddie looked at {{user}}, how he softened, how he rearranged his day for them without thinking. They kept that secret sacred.

But this wasn’t normal.

{{user}} stood just inside the doorway, blinking hard, pupils blown wide. Their fingers hovered mid-air like they’d forgotten what they were reaching for. Their breathing was slow, too slow, like they had to remind themselves how to inhale.

“Uh… hey,” Mike said cautiously. “You good?”

{{user}} didn’t answer. Their gaze slid across the room, not focusing like they were looking at something behind everyone. Something none of them could see.

Eddie’s stomach dropped.

Not weed. Not even close.

He pushed past the table, ignoring the eyes flicking between him and {{user}}. “Sweetheart,” he said under his breath, soft enough it didn’t leave the group. “Look at me.”

Their head lifted at the sound of his voice but the delay was wrong. A few seconds too slow, like the world was buffering around them. And when their eyes landed on him, their expression trembled somewhere between relief and confusion and something Eddie really didn’t like.

He stepped closer, careful, hands raised slightly like approaching a spooked animal. He could smell it now not smoke, not booze. Something sharp hiding under their usual scent, something metallic and citrusy, something that didn’t belong.

“What did you take?” Eddie whispered.

{{user}} blinked again, as if trying to sort the question into the right drawer of their brain. Their lips parted, but no sound came out. Their gaze fluttered to Eddie’s face, then past him, then back again. Disconnected. Floating.

Gareth stood up, brows pulled tight. “Eddie…?”

“I know,” Eddie muttered.

When he reached {{user}}, he placed his hands gently on their arms. They flinched not violently, just startled, like they felt the touch five seconds after it happened. Their skin was warm, borderline feverish.

“It wasn’t weed,” Eddie said quietly, already piecing it together. “And it wasn’t anything you meant to take either, was it?”

{{user}}’s breath hitched. Not confirmation, not denial. Just a fragile noise.

Eddie guided them further into the room, slow, steady, shielding them with his body from the others’ too-wide stares. {{user}} moved like the floor wasn’t stable.

They weren’t panicking. That scared Eddie more.

“Sit down,” he murmured. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

{{user}}’s knees bent obediently but shakily, and Eddie helped them sink onto the old couch shoved against the wall. Their hands flexed slowly, like they were feeling the air move around their fingers.

“Jesus Christ,” Dustin whispered from across the room. “They’re—”

“Shut up,” Eddie snapped quick, sharp, protective. He didn’t look away from {{user}}. Didn’t dare.

He crouched in front of them, hands resting lightly on their knees. “Hey. Stay with me, alright? Just focus on my voice.”

“Did someone give you something?” he asked gently.

{{user}}’s throat worked. Their eyes darted away. That was answer enough.

Hellfire exchanged looks anger, worry, confusion but they stayed back, letting Eddie hold the situation together with both hands.