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Shortly after getting home from the hospital, Luke woke up in Steve's bed gasping for breath, always gasping for breath. His skin and bedsheets were soaked with sweat, and all he could see when he looked around were ghosts. Nell, his mother, even Joey now, and he wasn't even sure where Joey was or what had happened to her. Though maybe this was his subconscious's way of telling him that she was gone too - he'd fail to save her. Just like he'd failed to help Nell, failed his mother, failed absolutely everyone. The rest of his siblings had almost died too up in that red room, saving his own useless body from that needle. And his father - God, he couldn't even think about that right now.
But it hadn't been his fault. This time, it hadn't been his fault. He couldn't explain it, couldn't entirely put into words exactly what had happened when he'd gotten up to that crimson door, but somehow he knew it hadn't been him that put the needle in. It wasn't him who'd pushed the trigger.
"Luke?" Steve said, having woken up from the chair nearby that he'd been asleep in. It was the middle of the night. Everything was so horribly dark. "What happened?" Steve asked gently.
Almost immediately upon waking up, Luke's breath had slipped away from him. He was starting to hyperventilate - he knew it. But as much as he tried to tell himself to breathe, tried to remind himself that getting this upset wasn't going to solve anything, he still couldn't keep his breathing under control.
"I'm sorry," Luke let out as he shivered and panicked, pulling the sheets up around his body. But it wasn't enough, or it wasn't right. "I'm sorry," he repeated. "I just... I can't..."
"You have to calm down," Steve said, quietly but firmly. "Luke, please, breathe." He came over and sat on the edge of the bed, reaching out for Luke's arms.
"No," Luke responded, flinching away from his brother's touch. "No, I- I need to tell you something. I need to —"
"Okay," Steve cut him off as he wiped a small towel across Luke's forehead, "but you still need to breathe."
With every bead of sweat Steve removed, that many more tears came spilling down Luke's cheeks. Steve leaned Luke's body back a bit so it was against the headboard, then he put a hand gently on Luke's chest. Luke's heart was pounding away a mile a minute, like he'd just taken something, but he hadn't. Steve had to know he hadn't - he'd been right here the whole time.
"You're not going to believe me," Luke whimpered, taking in Steve's perplexed look. "You won't believe me. You never do. And why would you? All I do is lie and make shit up. God, I lost your trust a long time ago, and I'll never forgive myself for that." More panic, more sobs that threatened to tear his entire body apart. It was like the seams of himself were splitting and he was about to spill out into the darkness.
"Why don't you tell me first, okay?" Steve tried, pushing down his own tears. No matter how often he saw it, how much he tried to get used to seeing one of his siblings in absolute distress, it never got any easier.
"I... I didn't do it," Luke pushed out through heavy breathing. Steve gave another confused look. "The... the needle," Luke continued. "The overdose. I didn't do that. At least I..." He thought back to the ghost of his mother, the apparition of Joey, of a young Nell warning him not to sit down. "No, I didn't do that."
Steve didn't respond at first, just bowed his head like he'd heard all of this a thousand times before. It just made Luke's panic worsen, made him doubt his own memory but no - he was sure of this, wasn't he? But still, witnessing Steve's disbelief would always make Luke feel absolutely terrible, even when he was telling the truth.
"I... I was clean," Luke cried. "I was clean. I had ninety..." His face closed up at the realization that he didn't have ninety days anymore - he was back to square one. "But it wasn't my fault," he pleaded. "Please, it was... it was one of... them. It wasn't... I didn't..."
It was all escaping him, all making it so he thought he'd never be able to breathe again. Luke closed his eyes, unable to look at his doubting brother a second longer, and started to curl himself up into a ball. But not before long there were hands on the sides of his face and Luke looked up to see Steve holding him, staring right into his eyes.
It was too much - all of it, everything. This gaze, the quiet outside this one bedroom, the way the blackness from outside seemed to be beaming in on them like a floodlight.
Luke could only look back at Steve, and Steve gave a small smile. "It's okay," Steve said. "I believe you."
The words didn't seep in at first, didn't seem to make any sort of impact. How long had Luke gone in his life wanting to hear those words from his brother? Was this another dream? Had he never left the red room after all? Was this what he was to see before he died? Or maybe he'd just imagined those words, too. Like he'd imagined so much else. But that wasn't the case, was it? He was still so confused but somehow within his mind he knew he was right about this.
"It wasn't me," Luke continued on as he cried. "I... I didn't do it."
"Luke," Steve spoke again, louder this time, clearer. "I believe you." Steve must have realized that Luke was stunned because he kept repeating it. "It's okay. I believe you."
Luke didn't know what Steve had seen back in the room, how everything Steve had been denying about that house and his childhood suddenly became crystal clear. So when Luke, his brother, said something crazy happened, that maybe some ghost or something else put that needle into his arm, or tricked him into doing it, then yeah - Steve believed him.
Luke just stared ahead at Steve, as if trying to figure out if Steve was just joking around, or if Steve was a mirage, a dream, or something else entirely. But when he reached out and touched Steve's face back - it was real. It was all real, he knew it. It had to be. Steve's subtle smile, his words, the way he was looking at Luke with compassion and belief for what felt like the first time.
Upon hearing those words, Luke felt frozen in time and space. "You... you believe me?" Luke finally stammered out.
Steve felt that guilt, that overpowering guilt, take ahold of him. "Yes," he said, desperate for Luke to understand. "Yes, I believe you. And I'm..." He was getting way too choked up himself. "I'm so sorry for all the years I didn't. Luke, I... I'm so sorry. And I believe you now."
It was all Luke had ever wanted to hear, and now he couldn't do anything but keep sobbing. He was just overcome with everything. He couldn't speak anymore. He could hardly breathe anymore. And Steve must have known this because he just climbed into the bed next to Luke and pulled his sobbing brother into his chest. Steve could only keep repeating himself. "It's okay, I believe you, I'm so sorry."