Chapter Text
It’s been a handful of weeks and days spent curled under a warm blanket. She bundles the fabric in her hands and breathes in the hot air from beneath the material. The constant touch of the blanket brings minimal comfort. It’s better than stumbling through the house.
Lucas visits everyday. It’s the same routine of his quiet presence, soft words of encouragement. He holds her when she permits him to. Max knows everything Lucas did for her. El had told her about the small endearing moments; bedside readings of Wonder Woman, brushing her hair, fixing her blankets and all the small things in between he held himself responsible for.
But Max hates how he talks to her sometimes. She hates the way everyone talks to her. Their voices are always an octave too high. They jump around the word ‘blind’ as if Max will crumple at its very existence.
Maxine Mayfield hates pity. She hates doting. She hates help. She hates the way she sticks her arms out and there’s always someone who wraps their arms around her to guide.
She mostly hates how different she is. There is no more danger lurking around the corner. Vecna, that slimey piece of shit, is properly disposed of (for real this time). But he took more from her than what’s recoverable. Leaving just reminiscence of a prouder, boisterous girl. Being blind is just the cherry on top.
It’s morning. She can feel the sun pouring onto a patch of her bed. Hand outstretched, Max feels the warmth coat her skin. Soon her mother will be walking in the hesitant way she does every day. She’ll help her daughter from bed, assist her in basic tasks that will make the teen snap until she’s done and can retreat back.
Max knows her mother is trying, more than she has in recent years. But waking up with no eyesight and a lifetime of trauma is hard enough on a fifteen year old. Having your struggling, single, alcoholic mom have to help you get dressed is rather frustrating.
She turns to her side and traces the bumpiness of her wall. Textures are important now. The doctors had emphasized that. Finding other sources to fulfill her senses will help her cope. Or at least make losing her main sense a little less unbearable.
Max isn't sure that’s quite true, but nonetheless she takes their word.
Like clockwork, her bedroom door creaks open. Max pushes herself up into a sitting position and a frown is steadily coursing its way to her face. She can’t help it very much. There’s a lot to be upset about. A lot to be happy about too, but that's a lot harder to focus on.
“Go away, mom,” Max mutters. She grips the blanket in her lap and looks in the direction she knows her door is in.
The footsteps are heavier, and they make their way to her bed. She scowls, feeling the presence sit down next to her. Max scoots herself away. People are always reaching out to touch her, to remind her they’re there. But Max has never been a touchy-feely person. Being blind doesn’t change that. It just means she gets less of a choice in that matter.
“Relax, I’m not your mom,” a familiar voice says teasingly. Max pauses. She slants her brows and deepens her frown.
“What are you doing here?” she questions with a slight scoff behind her words. The voice laughs. She’s sure he’s rolling his eyes and shaking his head.
“I’m here to bring you out of your cave,” Steve quips.
“What if I don’t want to leave my cave?”
“Well that’s too bad,” he snorts. She feels Steve stand up and shuffle across her small bedroom floor. Their trailer hadn’t been destroyed and they were able to move it to a less-cursed town. It saved Max from some unfamiliarity.
Max tilts her head upon hearing her closer door open. She can hear the hangers being pushed around and only aggravates her more.
“stop going through my stuff!” Max practically shrieks. She stands, keeping one hand trailing on her mattress as she clumsily walks her way to the boy.
Steve ignores her. He tugs out a shirt, one he knows to be Max’s favorite and a basic pair of jeans. “You can trust my fashion sense,” he argues gently, “you dress like a teenage boy.”
Max doesn’t react with a laugh. He simply pushes the articles of clothing into her hands. She grapples to keep them from falling to the floor.
“Great thank you for that,” she mutters sarcastically, “I’m not going out.”
“Yes you are,” he replies firmly. Steve places his hands on his hips defiantly, and if Max were able to see she’d probably call him an overbearing mom that’s trying to punish her child. “You haven’t left the house in a while. And I’m not letting you rot in here.”
“My hero,” she groans.
“The one and only! Your mom says you know where everything else is. Shout when you’re dressed.” Steve leaves without another word, the sound of her door shutting firmly behind him is the only sign that he’s left.
Max stands in the middle of her bedroom. She grumbles, dumping the clothes onto her bed. There’s no use in fighting her pseudo big brother. Besides Lucas, he’s a driving force getting her back into a groove of socializing and doing something other than listening to music on her bed.
The teenager clumsily gathers everything else. It takes twice as long to get ready. Max rubs the tag of her shirt between her fingers to know which side goes in front. She mumbles annoyances to herself while the shirt is tugged on. Buttoning jeans is an entirely different struggle.
But eventually, Max finds herself standing in changed clothes. She doesn’t bother to gather her pajamas. Her mom will put them away. Max isn’t really trusted to do laundry right now, anyways. Color separation isn’t really a skill she harbors in her current state.
Max plops down on her bed, cringing when the back of her leg hits the side. “Idiot, I’m ready.”
Her door swings back open. Steve grins proudly at her. He saunters over and nudges her shoulder. She flinched at the sudden contact.
“Sorry. My fashion sense is great, by the way.”
“Are you done?” Max replies. He shrugs and smirks at her snarky tone. The fiery teen still hasn’t lost her attitude.
“Psh, when am I ever, Mayfield? Up and at em’, go brush your teeth so we can leave.”
“You can’t tell me what to do.”
“You can have bad breath, I don’t care.”
Max tightens her grip on her blanket. They enter a silent battle. After a minute or two, Max finally gives in with a huff. She stands, throwing out her hands in front to keep herself steady as she stumbles her way to the bathroom.
She expects Steve to jump to her side, but he doesn’t. The older boy brushes past her, stopping somewhere in front of her. It almost makes her smile. Steve is one of the few to know just how strong minded Max is.
“We don’t have all day,” he reminds with fake impatience.
“Shut up, Steve,” Max hisses. But her voice lacks the pique it’s typically has lately. She takes her time making her way through the door.
Using the hallway as a guide, Max finds her way to the bathroom. He doesn’t help there either. He watches in silence as the girl drags her fingertips around the counter, only settling when she finds the plastic cup holding two toothbrushes. Her’s has small ridges along the side to let her know that it’s her own.
In the time Max brushes her teeth, Steve leaves with a mumble about getting her shoes. She hears him greet her mother and they chat somewhat cheerfully.
Max knows her mother must be bursting with glee at the idea of her daughter seeking some socialization.
In another fifteen minutes, Steve is dragging Max outside her trailer for the first time in two weeks. She winces at the hot sun, but the older teen keeps one steady arm looped around hers. Despite her defiance of help, she uses her other hand to clutch onto his arm.
The stability offers some comfort in being unable to typically navigate.
“Where are we even going?” Max asks. She bites her lip anxiously.
“That’s for me to know and you to find out,” Steve practically sings. “But it’ll be fun, I promise. Would I be a good babysitter otherwise?”
Once by the car, he opens the back door. Another voice cheerfully floods the space. Max cringes as her arms bump against the car. It’s a rough task to get in. But with Steve’s patient guidance, she manages to sit in the back seat.
“Hey, Red!” Robin greets. Max imagines the teen girl twisting in her seat to happily peer over.
“Robin,” Max returns flatly. But the other girl doesn’t seem to take it too hard. The redhead doesn’t complain as Steve tugs the seatbelt over her and buckles it for her. Enough of her energy and effort was just wasted on lacing up her vans anyways.
That is another side effect Max hates so dearly. At one point she could play video games until the early morning rays shined through and skate to school two hours later. But simple life activities are draining. Her doctors had called it extreme fatigue. Max had originally hoped it would wear off with time, but she’s learning it hasn’t and it probably won’t.
But little casualties for not ultimately losing her life, she supposes.
The car door shuts with a soft click and Max feels Steve enter the driver's seat. The engine roars to life. She crosses her arms on her chest and absentmindedly slips into some Tears for Fears song that is playing.
“Anything new with life?” Robin asks.
The only reason Max can tell she’s been asked is because Robin and Steve are practically tethered together. They know every small detail about each other. It only confuses Max more as to why they’re not just dating already, but nonetheless she isn’t one to pry into people’s love life.
“No,” she answers plainly once more. Robin makes a small ‘hmm’. The seat squeaks as she turns back around to face the road.
Quietness consumes them again. A surge of guilt for not being more social burns through. Sure it’s hard to be the happiest camper right now, but Max has to admit they are trying. And she’d much rather be stuck in a car with two idiots than have her mom popping into her room asking if she needs anything every two minutes.
She’ll give them some conversation. It’s the least she can offer.
“What about you?” Max goes with. She rubs her eyes. Sunlight makes them tingle with irritation sometimes.
“Almost got fired,” Robin supplies nonchalantly. Max imagines she’s smiling cockily or grinning sneakily at her best friend. “I let some kids into a rated-r movie. They left crying.”
That makes Max smile humorously. It’s such a dumb, but entertaining thing to imagine.
“Almost got us fired,” Steve corrects.
“Yeah– us , sorry dingus,” Robin replies snarkily. It reminds Max of why she likes the girl so much. If for a little more awkwardness, the two are particularly alike. “And to be fair, we would’ve been fine if they hadn’t ran out sobbing.”
“I’m surprised anyone hired you two together,” Max comments. She doesn’t protest the soft smile on her face. Maybe it is nice to listen to casual music and feel the gentle wind on her face and not be cooped up in her room.
She won’t admit it out loud though. That’s giving Steve far too much credit and he’ll go around being too boastful. And society really can’t have that.
“So am I. Well I’m a great interviewee. Is that a word? I’ll look it up later. It sounds like a word–who cares. I nail them. I’m just that charming. Steve is..ehh. But we make a great team, right dingus?”
“Right,” he agrees. Though Robin laughs at the slight unsure waver in his voice.
Max settles onto the seat. She finds herself itching to say more; to be more. She likes her friends, even the idiot adults (if they even could be called that). It’s just a little harder to enjoy prime socialization when they all suck at being able to speak clearer or more slowly. Their excitement often jumbles sounds in a way Max can’t handle deciphering.
Her hearing is her biggest crutch. But depending on that alone can be overwhelming.
But it’s just Steve and Robin. So that makes it easier. Or maybe it’s their natural guidance that isn’t as annoying as her own aged friends. They get it. Or at least in the ways they can. Max doesn’t want pity. So they don’t show it to her. Their help is warranted and helpful. Not overbearing like other people.
“I’m getting a dog,” Max blurts out. She grips her jeans.
A moment flutters after her words.
And then, Steve’s voice follows. “For real? That’s cool. What kind of dog?”
Max drags her fingers on her legs. The action is subtly soothing. “Oh it’s,” she tilts her head back, “a guide dog. It’ll help me get around easier.” She rubs her eyes again. Man, they’re really stinging today.
“Sweet!” Robin’s voice is heightened, excited at the prospect. “I saw one of those one time. That’s like..real-time cool. The one I saw would like know when the street light was changing. Dogs are so smart. I had a dog when I was younger. When you get it, can I come over and meet it?”
Her excitement draws some more contentment to Max. Robin’s rambling is something she’s gotten used to.
“Yeah,” she breathes. Max sticks her hand out a little to feel the breeze on her fingers. “It’s like a donation–or whatever. Apparently some people found out I’m from Hawkins and they felt bad. It’s part of some relief program or something–I don’t know.”
“Awesome,” Steve says loudly. He taps his hands to the beat of the song on the steering wheel. “Have a name picked out?”
“Uh, no, not really.”
“I have some names. What about Steve Jr?”
Max laughs. “I’d rather choose anything else. That’s ridiculous.” (Steve smiles wide at her laughter)
“It’s so not.”
“Yeah that’s a pretty shit name,” Robin agrees.
The two enter a bickering war that is lighthearted and playful. Max relaxes a little more. The environment is comfortable and familiar. If she slips away far enough, she can pretend it’s an easier time. She can pretend it’s summer, her mom isn’t so dependent on alcohol yet, and the world feels a lot less scary with her skateboard underneath her feet.
Max only blinks to focus when the car comes to a stop and the engine hums to silence. She pushes herself up, stretching her neck to take in the sounds. Collections of voices mill around. The sound of gravel crunching is obvious beneath the cluster of people walking around.
“Where are we?” Max asks. She tightens her grip on her jeans. Anxiety is beginning to pool in her chest. Being in a crowded place is not among her greatest pleasures.
“Music festival,” is what she finally hears when her door opens. The sounds grow in volume. Max squeezes her eyes.
“Is it busy?” She asks timidly. She hates how much her voice shakes. But Steve reaches out and lays a supportive hand on her knee.
“A little. But we don’t have to stay if you don’t want to. I know you feel like there’s stuff you can’t enjoy, but music is one you can. And we planned on sitting further back anyways. There’s a smaller stage with less people. We can go to that one.”
She nods, still looking ahead and gripping her jeans. She hears Steve shuffle and he moves closer to her. “We don’t have to stay.” He reminds her gently.
But Max shakes her head. She’s made it this far. And music is something she enjoys.
“We can stay,” she decides, “but no crowds.”
“No crowds,” Steve hums in agreement, “can I help you get out?”
With a short nod of confirmation, he unbuckles the kid and gingerly helps her from the seat. With her feet firmly on the ground, Max reaches out and wraps her arms around his. They fall into a rhythmic step.
Max finds herself inching closer to him as they pass by louder groups of people. To her relief, he doesn’t comment on it.
After a few minutes, Steve stops. He talks to Robin about it ‘being a good spot’ and the older girl agrees. Max stands beside her older friend, doing her best to take in the sounds and smells. Festival food scents faintly pass by. Practicing bands echo throughout the field she guesses they’re standing in, if the grass is any indication.
After a moment, Steve guides her to a blanket and they sit. Max releases her hold, but stays within arms reach.
Her knee bumps beside Robin’s but she doesn’t mind. Little reminders of who’s around her is an ease to her panic.
“This okay?” Steve asks.
“Mhm,” Max mumbles. She reaches up, rubbing her eyes.
“Everything good, Red?” Robin asks.
“Yeah, my um–my eyes burn sometimes when I go out in the sun. It’s nothing.” Max shrugs.
“Oh shit, I didn’t know.” She hears Steve curse. Before she can protest his words, a pair of sunglasses is being shoved onto her face. She jumps in surprise. She lifts her hands to the plastic and trails along the thick frames.
“Are these..yours?”
“I don’t need them,” he says casually. Steve nudges her elbow.
“I’m not taking your sunglasses,” Max frowns. She slips the frames off, despite the relief they give her, and holds them out. She feels them being lifted from her hand and the girl almost hums in satisfaction. But they’re once more being shoved onto her face.
“Wear them. I’m not returning you home with you in pain. This is supposed to be a good day.”
“I’m always in pain,” Max argues. She cringes at how that comes out. It sounds much more dire than she planned. “Physically, I mean.”
Ouch. Another lie.
“Okay so less pain. You’re just borrowing them. Don’t be a shithead, Max. Wear them,” Steve insists, “and I’m not taking no for an answer so you might as well just give up.”
Max huffs. “You’re the worst.”
“Thanks.”
Max crosses her arms. Steve and Robin converse about whatever it is they find interesting. The youngest of three spends her time rubbing her hands on the scratchy picnic blanket and trying to decipher all that she hears.
A sharp chord of a guitar. One girl talking about a band she’s excited to hear. Cars honking. A man calling out hello to a friend.
The world is a noisy place. But Max sort of likes that. It reminds her not all is lost.
A few minutes drag by until the performance actually begins. With a strike of chords, a band she doesn’t recognize introduces themselves. They go into their first set and Max tilts her head at the sound. They aren’t bad. At least to her standards.
Music is a haven. It’s a constant, graceful presence. She escapes to it when she’s sad. Or when she’s happy. It accompanies her in the rare moments she’s truly left alone. It saved her once and it’s always saving her now.
Max stretches out her hand until she finds the light jacket of the older boy. She gives his forearm a light squeeze before retracting her hand to her lap. She hopes he understands. It means so much that he’d deal with her sunken attitude and loss of energy to take her out to enjoy one of her few loves.
She hopes Steve gets it. Because he never stops trying with her and that matters more than Max thinks she’ll ever be able to fully express.
Steve gets it. He does. He watches as his young friend relaxes. He smiles so hard it hurts as Max wordlessly lays down and drums her finger softly to the music.
There isn’t much he can give her. But he can give her this; little moments of teenagehood that she can savor. Bites of childhood linger in her foot that sways to a change of keyboard notes.
She is still a teenager beneath it all.
And he is too. The feeling of being too old for your age is a wildly grasped concept. Their party knows better than anyone what it’s like to lose years of undisturbed youth. But under parting clouds and the heat of summer, maybe they don’t have to be so grown-up.
Just for a little while longer, Max can be a teenager. She doesn’t have the blind girl from Hawkins. She doesn’t have to be weighed down by nightmares or whispers of worry.
He can give that to her. Or at least he can certainly try to.
They walk back to the car an hour and a half later. Max is noticeably more exhausted as he helps her into the car.
But she leans her head against the open window. Soft breaths of sleep leave her lips. Her fingers aren’t gripping her jeans and she’s not squeezing her eyes and anxiously tapping her foot.
Robin and Steve exchange softened glances. Robin turns to him. Through the quiet radio, she leans over with a teasing grin. “Tired your kid out,” she says.
“Shut up, asshole,” he mutters in return, “don't wake her up. I don’t want to deal with a cranky Max.”
Steve takes the long way home (and avoids all the potholes). When Robin curiously glances over at a missed turn, he merely gives her a lazy shrug.
What’s another fifteen minutes going to do?
He’s always liked driving anyways.