Chapter Text
N O V E M B E R 4 1 9 8 4
D U S T I N H E N D E R S O N
“Steve?”
You’re walking along the train tracks, leaving meat everywhere you go, just walking silently together.
“Yeah, kid?”
“Er… Can I ask you something?”
“Odd time to do it, but sure.”
“Has Nancy ever talked to you about Mike?”
“No, she’s never mentioned her brother to me, ever,” Steve snorts, rolling his eyes and continuing to walk forward.
You groan.
“I’m serious, man. I mean like, personal stuff.”
“I know Mike’s favorite flavor of ice cream is, in fact, cookie dough.”
“Fuck you too, man, you’re really no help at all – “
“You’re going to have to specify, shithead.”
“I mean like, about what Mike has been going through this past year, you know?”
“I know about El, yeah. I know he’s been…”
“A ball of sadness?”
“Yeah. Why do you ask?”
“Um…” you grimace. Steve turns around, giving you a look.
“Kid, you’re going to have to use your words. You know those, right?”
“Fuck you.”
“Seriously, what are you going on about?”
You stop on the tracks, just looking at each other.
“Okay, this is really hard to talk about. The party and I have been fucking avoiding the topic for months before we finally got to talking about it in fucking August, so excuse me if it takes me a while to tell you.”
You’re so angry you feel your fingers clench up into fists.
You don’t even want to to think about this!
You just want to focus on Dart…
“Kid, you’re starting to seriously freak me out, and we’re in the middle of a Monster Movie right now.”
You kick some rocks.
You just want everything to be better.
Fuck.
“So like, sometime in May, my friends and I… we noticed Mike had a bunch of blood on his clothes.”
Steve turns around sharply, looking at you with wide eyes.
“And we started to notice he had like, bright red lines all over his wrists? And there kept being more of them,” you mutter, each word coming out of your mouth like your new teeth were being pulled out one by one.
“Shit…”
“And he kept making them, but none of us wanted to say anything to each other, until August when like, he just looked sick, right? Like, pale and weak and shit…”
“Why the fuck didn’t you say anything before?” Steve shouts.
“What the fuck were we supposed to say?” you roar back, “How are you supposed to deal with something like this?”
Steve looks at you, not saying anything really, just shaking his head and holding his face in his hands.
“So I was wondering if Nancy knew anything,” you finally mutter, quietly.
“She hadn’t really… she mentioned like, once, that Mike was really depressed, but that… was also in August,” Steve mutters, his eyes widening with realization.
“Do you think he tried to kill himself?” you whisper.
“I’m not sure. I feel like if that’s what was going on, Nance would have… actually done something? About it…”
You swallow and kick up pebbles.
You remember the cliff.
You walk forward, not really saying much of anything at all.
“Kid, I’m going to need more explanation for things than this.”
“What more do you want, man?”
“You dropped a giant fucking bombshell on me and then moved on to our merry monster luring like nothing happened!”
“What the fuck am I supposed to say?” you scream, your voice echoing in the forest, birds flying up into the sky.
You take off your hat and throw it on the ground, now pacing in a circle.
“Do you want me to say that Mike’s had moods like this his whole fucking life but before last year we could usually get him out of it with Dungeons and Dragons or like, just fucking going to a movie?”
“Kid –“
“Do you want me to say that Mike started to spiral when Will disappeared last year and we all just kept trying to distract him and that El was a big part of that?”
“Kid –“
“Do you want me to say that when things looked fucking bleak and some bullies were threatening me Mike literally threw himself off a cliff rather than figure out another way to deal with it and I’ve been trying to figure out if he legit wanted to die or not ever since?”
“Dustin –“
“Do you want me to say that every time I see more lines or blood on his clothes I want to fucking throw up and I actually did once when I saw a blood stain on his room floor that he cleaned up badly?”
“Dustin –“
“Do you want me to say that I know he fucking calls El like every night and that can’t be healthy for him but I’m never going to tell him to stop because what the fuck am I supposed to do, man, what the fuck am I supposed to do –“
“DUSTIN –“
“WHAT?”
“Dustin, fucking breathe,” Steve says, dropping everything and holding you by the shoulders.
You only realize now that you’ve been panting like a maniac, and that everything is tense, and you haven’t breathed right for a while, and that you’re crying and sick to your damn stomach again –
“Shit. Shit fuck. Fucking shit,” you whisper, leaning over and holding your head in your hands.
Steve holds you steady as you keep breathing in and out, in and out, in and out. Your nausea remains, but at least you can see straight now. You straighten up and look at Steve, swallowing.
“Did you kids come up with, I don’t fucking know, any sort of plan?” Steve asks.
“We’ve been putting off doing it, but we wanted to talk to him about it, yeah,” you mutter.
“Why have you been putting it off?”
“I don’t really know. After August we just all sat down and we talked and we realized we had to talk to him about it…” you frown, “And we kind of decided to talk to him if he looked really bad again?”
Steve nods.
“But he never looked… that bad again. And so then we decided in early October to just sit down with him because we knew he was still doing it. But like… fuck, then all this stuff happened? With Will, Dart, and Halloween? And it all just went to shit and I guess now we’re just never going to talk about it?” you ramble.
Steve nods.
“Okay… shit, but okay.”
“Do you think Nancy knows?”
You look at each other for a long time.
“I think it’s probably impossible for her not to,” Steve mutters, “And she has been… shaken up. Lately.”
“More than usual?’
“Fuck off, man.”
“Sorry…”
“Yeah, more than usual, shithead. Since August. I think she found out then… whether he tried to kill himself or not, she found out then.”
You nod.
You want to vomit again.
Stupid fucking weak stomach.
Or exhaustion.
You don’t really remember the last time you slept.
“I think we should come up with a plan tonight, for when… if… we get out of this,” Steve pauses, “Cause you’re right, the kid can’t keep doing this.”
Steve turns away and starts walking down the tracks again, muttering swears to himself. You follow him hurriedly, watching him as he just keeps muttering.
“Sorry,” you whisper after a while.
“Sorry for what?”
“For putting all this on you.”
“Kid, it’s good that you did. Don’t apologize.”
“But –“
“Don’t fucking apologize, man. You guys are thirteen, you don’t know what the fuck you’re doing. Depression is deep shit. You needed to tell someone. Especially when it seems like the kid is a fucking suicide risk.”
You nod.
You breathe easier.
Steve isn’t an adult, but he’s close enough to one that you feel… better.
Like maybe this can be fixed now?
Yeah.
“So who knows?”
“What?”
“I mean, who knows? Just you and your nerdy friends?”
“Yeah, and Nancy, probably.”
“So the Chief – Mrs. Byers, Jonathan – they don’t know?”
“Nope.”
“Okay. I think we should tell them.”
“Fuck no –“
“Dustin, seriously, it’s good you told me, but I’m fucking eighteen and have known like, a grand total of three people who struggle with this in my life. I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing.”
“Who were the three people?”
“Nosy, much, dickhead?”
“Sorry.”
“If you’re wondering, ‘is one Nancy,’ fuck, yes it is Nancy, you idiot.”
“Right…”
“She’s not as bad as Mike but she got fucking fucked up after the whole mess with Barb last year.”
“Right.”
“And that’s all I’m going to tell you about it, because fuck, she actually talked to me about it and we… were… trying to fix it, it’s not like with Mike where he won’t tell anyone and requires a fucking intervention,” Steve snapped.
“Gotcha, okay, sorry, I’ll drop it.”
You keep walking in silence, your heart still at the bottom of your stomach.
“Steve?”
Steve lets out a long sigh.
“Yeah, kid?”
You struggle to get the words out, so you just keep walking, dropping meat on the ground.
“Kid, what is it?”
You stop again, and turn around, biting your lip.
You know you’re going to cry but you have to say it anyway.
“Er… er… um…”
“Spit it out, Jesus.”
You start sobbing, sitting down on the tracks and holding your head in your hands.
“Shit – Dustin –“
You curl up in yourself, just crying against your knees.
“Dustin, what the hell –“
You take a few deep breaths and look up at Steve again.
“What if we can’t help him?”
Steve sits down next to you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder.
“We’re going to do everything we can.”
“B-but what if we can’t?”
“Don’t think about it like that, kid. It’s not healthy.”
You sob more, and hold your face in your hands.
“Look, we’re going to do something, and that’s what matters. I know it’s scary. But let’s focus on, like, the monsters that are attacking our town, eh?”
You snort.
“Yeah, sure. That’s scarier.”
“I mean, it should be, kid.”
You just shake your head.
“I don’t know… how… him…”
“You don’t know what?”
You stare out in front of you, into the trees, just trying to breathe again.
You would never have said you had a “problem.”
All in all, you’re a happy kid.
“I… don’t know how… if he… if he dies… I don’t know how it’d… affect me…”
Steve sighs.
“Yeah, I feel you, kid.”
“What do you mean?”
Steve swallows and frowns.
“I said I’ve known a grand total of three people with depression.”
“Okay…”
“Nancy, an acquaintance at school I don’t talk to much, and my older brother.”
“You have an older brother?”
“Had.”
Silence fills the air.
You just look at him, expecting to say… anything.
“I was young. I didn’t really… know what was going on. Younger than you. We’re talking eight.”
“How old was he?”
“Fourteen.”
You nod, biting your lip again.
You like to do that because you like to feel your teeth, sometimes.
It’s comforting.
“What… happened?”
Steve shrugs, looking away, “I dunno. I don’t remember much of it. Our parents aren’t the best, so they fought a lot in front of him. He didn’t do well in school. Not very smart, my family.”
“Oh come on –“
“Don’t derail me, man –“
“I didn’t push you off the tracks!” you joke, despite yourself really. Steve just turns to you and looks at you for a long time.
“You have got to be shitting me right now.”
“I never miss an opportunity for bad jokes.”
“Now? During this story? Really?”
“I needed to lighten to mood!”
“YOU DON’T LIGHTEN THE MOOD DURING THIS!”
“Sorry, sorry! Keep talking!”
Steve just shakes his head for a long time, before holding his face in his hands. He then looks up at you, sighs, and continues.
“He was flunking out. Parents screamed at him to shape the fuck up every other day.”
“So…”
“All I remember is him being sad like, all the fucking time. I’d try to get him to play with me and he’d basically tell me to fuck off.”
“Shit, man, I didn’t know –“
“Yeah well I don’t talk about it. My mom found him. He’d drunk himself to death.”
You wrap your arms around Steve and hug him before Steve can say anything.
“Shit, kid, get the fuck off me –“
“No.”
“Fuck, kid –“
“I refuse!”
“You’ve gotta be kidding me right now.”
“You need a hug.”
“Let me decide that one –“
“YOU NEED A HUG!”
“I hate you.”
“I hate you too.”
You let go, wiping off your eyes and looking at him. Steve was crying, too.
“Ever since then my parents have just been distant. Absent all the damn time. They figured being too involved is what made him kill himself, so now they just leave me the fuck alone.”
You nod.
“Why does no one talk about this?” you ask, “Hawkins… nothing happens here.”
“It was when I didn’t live here, idiot.”
“Oh.”
“Do you honestly think my parents would want to live in the house where their son killed himself? Fuck no. We moved like, half a year later.”
“Gotcha.”
“And we don’t talk about it, so I’d appreciate you keeping this to yourself, dipshit.”
“Got it.”
“I’ve only told Nancy, that’s it.”
“Understood.”
“I’m serious –“
“How many times do I have to fucking acknowledge this? Geez!”
“Alright, alright.”
Steve frowns, looking forward.
“I don’t remember much about him, because I was a little kid. So I don’t… I don’t know how to help with depression, and I don’t really… I don’t really know if I can talk about how fucked up it’s made me.”
“Fair.”
“So don’t push me –“
“Am I pushing you?”
Steve sighs.
“No. I guess I’m pushing myself.”
He stands up, looking at you and offering you a hand up.
“If the worst happens, we’ll get through it, alright? But until then, you’re not allowed to think about it.”
You nod.
“Got it.”
“I’m serious, kid.”
“I promise –“
“I don’t want you to get depressed too. We don’t need two depressed kids on our hands.”
“I’m fine, I swear.”
Steve clasps you on the shoulder, and you both go back to spreading meat on the ground.
You do admit it.
You feel a bit better.
Not perfectly.
But, enough.