Chapter Text
Dustin carefully maneuvers Steve’s head from his lap, instead setting him on the floor as gingerly he can. Worry squirms deeply in his chest when the older boy doesn’t as much as flinch. If it weren’t for the fact he knows Steve got his head bashed in by a plate, his rest would look almost peaceful.
He stands up, wincing at the pins and needles his legs immediately get, the poking sensation running up and down his limbs.
How long was Steve lying on top of him?
He’s lost track of time.
He does know he ate the canned food at least a couple hours ago.
It’s thankfully settled well in his stomach, helping stave away the painful hunger that had his insides twisting earlier.
Since then he’s been incredibly restless, especially after he got tired of playing with Steve’s matted hair.
Dustin’s footsteps pad into the living room, finding a throw blanket and half carrying, half dragging it to the kitchen where he carefully tucks it around the teen’s shoulders. He pulls away after a few seconds of watching Steve, just in case he’s showing signs of seizing again.
Thankfully the other boy is sleeping soundly.
Time to find something useful like flashlights or weapons.
Slowly Dustin abandons the kitchen, his chest tightening a little at the thought of leaving Steve all alone where some unknown Upside Down monster could get him.
Steve said they’d be safe here though and he trusts the older teen.
It’s not like Steve will get himself killed the moment he walks off.
“Be safe.” he whispers, throat still scratchy then ventures further into the silent home.
The house is filled with vines all of which he steps over, searching the area top to bottom for anything they can use. There’s something very striking about his new friend’s home. It’s empty…extremely so. The furniture is modern and fancy, but sparse and uncomfortable looking despite how expensive it probably is. The place also lacks decorations, nothing of meaning in any section of the quote on quote home.
Dustin’s mom has whole walls full of photos of him as a kid, far too many of Mews and every single award he’s gotten framed up for everyone to see. She has plenty of treasured Knick knacks and wall decor too, but Steve’s house is so…lifeless.
There’s no family photos or homey decorations. The walls are plain, pristine and feel overall very plastic.
Every surface is flat and unused other than the occasional lamp or book that seems as if it’s never been read before.
He carefully climbs the stairs with some difficulty, avoiding the sharp edges and neglects leaning on the railing which looks like it’s about to collapse. The upstairs has a quite a few more spores and Dustin snugs the bandana over his face further to protect him from the poisonous snowflakes of death.
The upstairs is just as bad as the downstairs, empty, sterile, and unwelcoming. He finds the master bedroom first which is barely decorated and the closet only has a few fancy dresses and suits inside it. It’s very clearly Steve’s parent’s room, but it seems unused.
He goes through four more guest rooms and an office until he finds what he presumes is Steve’s room. The walls are covered in hideous plaid wallpaper and while there’s more personal items than the other rooms it still feels lonely. The bed is made in a pristine manner, all the Knick knacks around are perfectly straightened, even all the clothes are hung up, minus a mess on the closet floor that Dustin assumes was made when Steve found the sweatpants and shirt he’s wearing right now.
Why is it so empty?
And why does it make him feel so sad?
Dustin frowns and sits on the bed, ignoring the upside down slime that’s covering the blankets. The room is so still, an alarm clock placed neatly on the side table along with another fancy, white lamp.
To his surprise he notices the lamp is glowing softly. He reaches out, hand pushing through the matter between the bulb and the upside down air and gasps.
It tickles, but it’s incredibly fascinating. He twists the light around a little and sighs in disappointment when the light goes out.
Another light blinks in the hallway suddenly and he hastily follows after, the lights turning him in a wild goose chase until finally retreating to the front porch and disappearing completely.
What was that?
He swear he heard a murmur in the walls too, but couldn’t make it out.
Was someone in the house? In Hawkins?
Should he have done more?
“What am I doing?” Dustin sighs roughly, rubbing his throat. It’s starting to get really sore again and his chest is slowly growing tight once more, threatening to push him into another coughing fit.
Feeling defeated, he retreats to the kitchen and lays down beside Steve, tucked right against his side as he listens to the older boy’s labored breathing.
After a while of listening to the teenager’s chest expanding with every breath he starts to doze off, once again overwhelmed with a bone crushing exhaustion that starts lulling him into sleep.
However he doesn’t get the luxury of rest because just as he’s about to close his eyes for real this time, Steve lurches into a sitting position, suddenly wide awake.
“Whoa! Steve, are you-“ Dustin shuts his mouth tight at the sound of his friend ripping off his face mask and retching, wincing back. He’s frozen for just a half a second until he snaps out of it, hesitantly reaching out and rubbing circles across the older boy’s back just like his mom always does for him. “It’s okay, just get it out of your system. You’ll be alright.”
The comforts feel weak and unhelpful, but he tries anyway, tries to ignore the panic swirling in his mind like a tornado.
Was it the food?
They only ate it twenty minutes apart from each other-
He’s smaller than Steve so surely he’d feel sick by now if it was food poisoning, right?
It could be his head injury though. His mom has mentioned concussions and the seriousness about them before.
Steve lets out a pitiful noise as he continues to dry heave and Dustin’s lip involuntarily wobbles, his eyes becoming wet.
Don’t cry- Steve needs you.
You crying won’t help him.
“It’s okay. You’re almost done.” Dustin tries again despite not knowing if the poor teenager’s stomach is going to give him a break or not. He keeps trying to soothe the other boy either way, whispering reassurances and rubbing his back in vain.
By the time the vomiting subsides Steve is shaking all over and Dustin lays him down again, covering him with the blanket.
“It’s okay. Just rest.” Dustin whispers, wincing when he notices how faint his voice has gotten. He carefully cups his palm over Steve’s forehead and lets out a tiny sigh of relief at the lack of fever.
He carefully rewraps his friend’s bandana around his mouth and nose, trying to calm the older boy.
Steve doesn’t seem to be very lucid though which worries him.
He hopes it’s just the concussion and not a seizure coming on.
Just that thought is enough to make him start trembling and he carefully settles beside Steve again, dutifully guarding the teenager from any threats that may come.
He just has to hope El will be able to rescue them before it’s too late.