Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

MARCH 27TH, 1986

It’s like time was moving slowly. 

The musty, rotten stench of the upside down was repulsively pungent on its own, but the smell of burning flesh and gasoline and gunpowder was hardly any better.

Every gunfire was like thunder, rattling the attic with every booming step Nancy took as Vecna was thrust backward upon every impact of the bullets into his chest. The spark from the muzzle was cracking lightning, illuminating the determination (grief, hate, reprisal) on her face. Robin and Steve held their fire as Nancy kept moving. Kept pushing Vecna back.

A crack of noise - glass shattering behind him as he fell to his death. Steve felt like he could finally breathe. The three of them stepped up to the open window and –

Four chimes ring.

…

What?

But.. they’d won, hadn’t they? They just killed Vecna –

Steve doesn’t linger on that thought for long – a red glow emanates from below his feet and the world begins to crack in two. It nearly takes him with it, a pull so strong it could’ve swallowed all three of them whole. Nancy screams as the floorboards rip open and the three of them scatter to opposing ends of the attic, cutting Steve off from the staircase as Robin plasters herself against the back corner and Nancy near the staircase.

“Fuck–!” Steve curses, tripping over furniture as he scrambles away from the tear in the ground. Oh, God. Oh, God. We’re going to die here.

The rift paints a horrible, pulsing red wound and keeps ripping straight through the ground, drawing itself away from the house. It stops growing wider after a certain point. Steve stares across at Nancy and Robin with wide eyes.

“...Fuck. Okay.” He breathes shallowly, slowly approaching the rift. Gate.

He stops.

Hold on.

There was a fucking gate.

The girls stare at him. They collectively stare at the gate.

“Four–” Robin begins.

“Four chimes.” Nancy finishes.

“So we all heard that,” Steve confirms. He meets their eyes again. 

His stomach drops.

“Max. Max– Max!” Steve rushes towards the edge, ignoring Robin’s frantic “WOAH Woah woah Steve don’t–!” and peering down.

The gate goes down to the bottom floor. “Max!! Lucas! Erica!”

He hears a faint, distorted voice. They have to get to the ground floor, but the stairs are across the– oh, what the hell.

“Steve–” Robin warns again. Nancy seems to be ahead of the curve, rushing downstairs. Steve steps back far enough to take a running start and leap across the rift.

He’s damn lucky Robin was quick enough to catch on, grabbing him right as the wood gave way beneath his landing and yanking him towards her ungracefully, almost sending them both to the floor. 

Getting to the ground floor was… difficult. The main staircase was ripped in half in one area. Steve hopes the kids on the other side don’t have to deal with this, but he knows that’s unrealistic. It’s a mirror of their world. Why would it be different?

“Steve!” Erica’s voice called, distant and echoing through the gate.

“Hey!! Hey– hey we’re here! It’s okay, we’re here,” He called back, trying to see where exactly she is.

“The- The staircase–” Her voice wobbled. Oh God, she’s so young. Too young for this.

“ – We know –” Robin says.

“ –It’s- We can’t get down!” 

“I know! It’s the same here, but we’ll- we’ll get you three out of there, okay? Trust me!”

She doesn’t answer directly, but he can hear her talking to Lucas. Max’s voice has yet to be heard and it makes Steve’s heart squeeze painfully tight. He surveys the gate briefly – since it’s just straight down into the ground floor, it’s an easy transition. He dives headfirst – head reeling from the sudden 180– and is followed by Nancy and Robin. Steve pulls them both up to their feet before casting his eyes on the staircase.

What Steve sees makes him wish the gate ripped him in half instead.

MARCH 31ST, 1986

Steve was still seated at the table long after dinner was over. His plate had gone cold. He spent the entire time prodding it with his fork and barely put anything into his mouth. Robin on the other hand cleaned her plate rather quickly, getting up immediately to wash her plate only to return to her seat next to Steve. His parents took their sweet time finishing. His mother kept looking at Steve worriedly given his absent appetite ( “Please eat something, Stephen.” “Don’t waste our goddamn food right now, boy.” ) but must’ve realized he wasn’t going to do anything and deemed it a lost cause.

They left the table and moved to the living room. He can hear the news station droning on about the earthquake . It’s just become white noise to him. He doesn’t really pay much attention to what they say anymore, every few hours they read lists of people still missing, and whoever was found dead that day. The morgue at Hawkins Memorial is probably overflowing. Nobody has time for funerals right now, everyone’s too busy trying to find disaster relief, leave, or try to hose down the burning buildings.

Robin sits with him. They hold hands over the table. Months ago his mother would’ve teased them about it, thinking they were more than friends. She would’ve been delighted at Robin staying over so much. Today she didn’t even spare them a glance. It was a welcomed change, honestly.

“I’ll put this in the fridge,” Robin said softly to him, her voice still a little hoarse from crying earlier that day. Steve just shrugged and let her take his plate, scrape it into some Tupperware (and spend two-and-a-half minutes trying to find a lid), and stick it into the fridge, rounding the corner and resuming her position like she never left.

“Thanks,” Steve murmured, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. She nodded and squeezed his hand. “Are you okay?”

“Homesick,” She answered quietly. “Which is funny, because... Because– your place is- it’s kinda like a second home, you know? Because you’re here.”

“But it’s not the same,”

“No,” Robin said meekly. “It’s not.”

“Because yours is out of reach,”

“...Yeah,” Her voice cracked. “I call them, but they’re so far away and I miss them,”

“I know how that feels,” Steve said.

“No,” Robin shakes her head. “You know you don’t.”

He can’t be mad at her, because it’s true. It’s different. Missing your parents while they’re on some work trip isn’t close to the same level as being forcefully separated, ripped apart from each other by the earth itself. Hell, the last thing Steve wanted was for his parents to come back this time. He didn’t want to see them. He still doesn’t.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be.”

“I’m sorry I don’t understand it,”

“It’s okay that you don’t,” She gives him a watery smile, now squeezing his hand with both of hers. “I know you care. You listen. That’s more than enough. You don’t have to get it , you know?”

Steve chuckles quietly. “You’re quoting me to me, you know that?”

“Well, maybe you should listen to yourself more often,”

“Maybe.”

“How are you doing, Steve?” Robin asked gently. “You hardly ate. I don’t wanna, like.. push you, if you’re really not feeling it but… you know how things are right now. You’ve gotta eat something, y’know? Get your energy going,” In case we have to fight again.

Steve’s eyes dropped from her face, locking onto her hands. Studying them. They were littered with freckles. Scratches from stray cats she tried to pet or from nicking herself against an exposed nail in the boathouse. They were delicate next to his own, smaller, thinner. They were warm and loving and restless. Her nail polish was gone by now. She scrubbed her hands raw when they first got to the Wheeler’s house, trying to purge her body of the blood and grime and filth the Upside Down so ungraciously gifted her with. Steve had to stop her before she started to tear the skin off of her arms. He didn’t blame her, no, he did the same with his entire body when it was his turn. Every inch of his body burned that night, but Robin’s hands were still soft and careful. He liked her hands. 

“I know,” He said finally, voice hardly above a whisper. “I just can’t right now.”

“I get it,” She said. And she did. “What are you thinking about?”

“You have nice hands.”

Robin hummed inquisitively.

“I like holding them,” Steve said shyly. “It’s grounding.”

She nods in agreement.

“Makes me feel real, you know?” Steve shrugs lightly. Robin nods again.

“Yeah, especially when things get really bad,”

“It’s nice to hold onto someone. Be tethered to them.” Steve said somberly. “Reminds you you're both still breathing. Gives you something to keep you standing when shit gets bad, you know?”

A beat of silence passed.

“Steve…”

Steve didn’t look up. She took his other hand. She held his hands close, tight, lovingly. She was always so gentle with him.

MARCH 27TH, 1986

They suspected the worst when the clock rang out. They were still holding on to hope, if they thought about it too long then it would come true, so they ignored it until it was staring them right in the eyes. Unblinking.

Steve’s stomach lurched so hard it could’ve burst right through his ribcage. Everything began to spin around him. Oh, God.

Oh, God.

Erica, bless her, was trembling like a leaf. Her expression may be under control, but he knows better. He knows fear when he sees it.

Lucas’s face was swollen. Steve knows from experience a human did that to him. The poor boy’s face was wet, the glimmer of tears reflecting red and moon-blue.

And in the boy’s arms was Max. Twisted. Broken. Deadweight Lucas was struggling to hold up, but weight he carried so carefully like she could shatter at any moment.

Max, the girl who put herself in the frontlines to give them a head start. Max, the girl who never truly gave up no matter how much she wanted to. Max, the girl who charmed everyone with her wit and sarcasm, the girl who loved so fiercely she would hit and punch and scream. The girl they failed to protect. The girl he failed to protect.

Why did he let her sacrifice herself?

Robin’s hand slipped into his own, shaking and squeezing him like a lifeline. It was enough to pull him back to earth. He squeezed back, looking for Nancy and finding her hand, linking them together.

Focus. Get them out of here. Get them to safety. You can’t drift away, not now. They need you.

Steve squeezed the girls’ hands once more before breaking contact, climbing up the stairs as they followed behind.

“Hey,” He said as he met the kids across the gate. “Erica, you first. I’m gonna need you to jump across.”

Erica looked at the gate below, stepping closer to her brother. “Are you insane?”

“You have to trust me, okay?” Steve continued, holding his hands out. “Jump, I’ll catch you, I promise, okay?”

She swallowed nervously. Her brave face was slipping, and she looked to Lucas wordlessly. He looked between her and the older teens across from them and gave her a reassuring smile (one that didn’t quite reach his eyes).

“Get a running start,” Lucas told her. “He’ll catch you.”

Steve waited, watching her carefully as she backed up. She took a deep, shaky breath. Erica ran forward, closing her eyes tightly as she jumped - Steve leaned forward to catch her just as she passed the rift, Robin and Nancy pulling them back closer to the wall (and bumping it a little too hard) as a safety net. Steve held her tightly, swaddling her in his arms. She held on tightly, shuddering. They shouldn’t have been alone.

“Shhh, I got you, you’re okay,” Steve whispered, rubbing her back. “You’re okay.”

She whimpered. He squeezed her slightly.

“Okay, I gotta help Lucas now, alright?” He felt her nodding against him, though she held on just a moment longer before Robin pulled her away and down the rest of the stairs.

Nancy looked at Steve. “How do we..?”

Steve frowned, looking back at Lucas. Poor kid’s arms were shaking. Lucas looked at them with so much trust, waiting patiently. It made Steve want to throw up. How could he trust them after this? After their plan failed?

“...I go over there,” Nancy opened her mouth to protest. “Hey. I go over there, I take Max, Lucas jumps over, and then I cross with Max.”

“Why... Why you?” Lucas asked, as though parting with Max even for a second was enough to kill him.

“Your arms look like they’re about to give out, no offense,” Steve said dryly, wincing at his own tone. “Now watch out, I’m coming over.”

Crossing wasn’t as dangerous as it was in the attic. He stumbled forward a bit, but better that than to stumble backward. Steve took Max from Lucas and watched the boy leap the gap and be guided downstairs by Nancy. Once the Sinclairs were safe, Robin and Nancy came back up.

Steve finally got a good look at the damage.

Max’s eyes were glazed over. Pale, milky white, drying blood crusting around the bottom lid and the inner corner. Her limbs (minus one arm) were mangled and sticking out in all the wrong directions. Steve was shocked that he could hear her raspy breath, as quiet and shallow as it was. The guilt crept back up, threatening to grab him by the ankle and swallow him whole, threatening to drag him by his throat and rip the skin off his back, threatening to shatter his skull and tear through his abdomen. It was like drowning, and the waves kept getting bigger and bigger.

“Steve, hurry up!” Nancy called out harshly. “We have to go!”

He swallowed the lump in his throat, shifting Max and holding her tight to his chest like a hug, an arm slung around her shoulders and another supporting just under her thighs. Her head limply flopped against his ear. It’s now or never.

Steve took a few steps back, bracing himself before rushing forward and leaping - and thank God he made it. He doesn’t care about the throbbing pain in his knees from how fucking hard they slammed against the ground below him, panting out Holy shit, Jesus Christ, Holy fuck as he shakily stood up. 

The four of them (four, because Max is still hanging on) reunited with the siblings at the landing. Lucas ran right up to him, and Erica latched onto Robin once more.

“No, you’re not carrying her again,” Steve insisted. “Give your arms a break, okay? You’ve- you’ve been through enough.” I’m sorry. Let me do this for you.

Surprisingly, Lucas had a lot of fight left in him, but he relented once Steve was already heading out the door.

“I’ll carry her to the trailer park, and then we are going to the hospital.” Everyone agreed silently, following Steve’s lead.

Hopefully, he wasn’t leading them to anything worse.

The damage was unthinkable. They passed by houses ripped in half before they got back to the woods. People were pouring out of the streets - Steve thinks he caught sight of two of Jason’s goons running to their car, screaming Where’s Jason?! and I’m not going in that fucking house, man! Look at it! which immediately makes Steve think the worst if the bruises on Lucas were anything to go by.

But Jason never showed his face when they were leaving. Maybe the Upside Down claimed him.

Steve shudders.





In the distance, they could see a threatening red glow bleed through the trees. It kept going. And going. Like it was following them. Nancy looked pale even in the darkness. Her vision came true. Steve thought about her family.

The trailer park was in an absolute frenzy. The red glow leads right into the center.

Shit.

Steve hurried towards the RV parked in the woods, the others following with haste, and ripped the door open with one hand, rushing to put Max in the back as gently as he could. Lucas immediately assumed position next to her on the floor, cradling her head so carefully Steve wanted to sob , but he couldn’t. He needed to get Dustin and Eddie out of there immediately.

“Now listen, I want you all to stay right the fuck here , got it?!”

Robin and Nancy raised their voices in protest.

“AHT! ZIP IT. ” They went quiet immediately, stunned by the force of his voice. “Nancy, you’re the only one besides me without a license. If I’m not back in five minutes, I need you to book it to the hospital. We’ll find a way over.”

Nancy nodded and assumed position.

“Robin,” He said more gently. “I need you to just be here for them.” He glanced towards the back, where Erica huddled against Lucas, an arm wrapped around her. “Please.”

Tearfully, she nodded and wordlessly shoved him back out. “Be quick, asshole,”

Steve didn’t say anything back before bolting.




It was loud. People were screaming or crying, running, driving like the world was on fire (it may as well have been). His sides screamed out as he climbed the fence, toppling onto the other side with a hard, painful thud that made his vision white out for a whole second.

“Dustin!” Steve called out, back on his feet and searching frantically for the trailer. It was easy to get lost with all the chaos, people shoving and running past him. “Dustin!”

When he saw it, Steve thought he was going to vomit for real this time.

And he did, but that’s not important. Instead, he ran right into the wreckage. It was painful to look at.

It was so cozy and lived in when they came in here earlier. It was small, but it was a home. Hats and novelty mugs were hanging on the walls. A key bowl and old newspapers were sitting on the coffee table. Eddie’s room was decorated all over with posters and trinkets that meant the world to him.

Something sharp pricks his foot just enough to flinch away. He looks down.

A shattered Garfield mug.

It makes his heart hurt more.

“Ed- Eddie?! Dustin!” Steve cried out again. His voice split painfully as he looked into the gaping hole below him.

“Steve!” Oh, thank fuck.

“Dustin!” Steve called back, head buzzing loudly in relief. “Come on, we gotta go!”

“Ste–ve!” Oh, no.

Without thinking, Steve launched himself through the gate (fucking nausea again) and crawled out like a man buried alive. “Dustin! I’m here!”

Dustin only wailed in response. No sign of Eddie. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck–

Time slowed again the second Steve laid eyes on them. They were so far from the trailer, Dustin seemed to be dragging a body (Eddie.) behind him. Steve immediately ran towards him, swooping the young teen into a bone-crushing hug. The body was dropped (only the ankle) in favor of clinging to Steve.

“Steve- He– he didn’t run–” Dustin choked out, sniveling and sobbing wetly. “He didn’t run! He-He was so brave he–”

“C’mon, buddy, we gotta go–”

“NO!” Dustin shrieked. “We can’t LEAVE HIM down here, are you ffffucking INSANE?!”

“Dustin, we have to leave ,” Steve insisted, holding Dustin tightly by the shoulders.

“I’m not leaving him behind!”

Steve clenched his jaw, giving Dustin a look of remorse before swooping the kid over his shoulder. Dustin reacted by kicking and screaming madly, wailing about leaving Eddie behind in a shithole like this. All Steve did was hold on tight and apologize over and over, but he knows deeply that no amount of I’m sorry, I’m so sorry could help.

He was surprisingly cooperative when climbing through the gate. Steve discovered the kid had a broken or sprained ankle (“Why–?!” “Don’t– Don’t fucking ask right now.”) and carried him out the main entrance on Steve’s back rather than climbing the fence again. He spotted the headlights of the RV ahead and ran the last leg.

“Seven minutes and thirty-two seconds,” Robin said, ripping the door open for them. 

“What?” Steve panted out, seating Dustin on the dining bench.

“You were gone for seven minutes,” She said again, voice hard but trembling. “And thirty-two seconds.”

“I told you to leave after five.” He looked at Nancy. She didn't look at him.

 “I… didn’t realize how much had time passed,” Nancy lied.

“Where’s Eddie?” Lucas asked.

The silence said enough. 

MARCH 31ST 1986

Steve hovered by the wall. He tried not to stare at Lucas and Ms. Hargrove (or is it Mayfield? Wasn’t that her first husband’s name?) , whatever conversation they were having seemed a little too intimate and personal. He’d gotten here before Ms. Mayfield (“Susan, if you don’t mind,”) , offering his seat to her when she arrived. The poor woman had apparently sprained her knee when climbing out of the wreckage in her own home, bruised and sore on other parts of her but thankfully remaining relatively unscathed otherwise. She’s been through enough already. He can’t imagine how awful it is to be her right now. Get divorced, move across the country with your daughter, a new shitbag husband, and his near-equally shitty son, lose that same child in some tragically violent “mall fire”, get divorced again, have to move into a much smaller house and work two jobs, lose that home to an “earthquake”, and now your only remaining child is in a fucking coma with all but one of her limbs broken and the likelihood of her never being able to see or walk again if she wakes up. If.

Yeah. He can’t imagine that’s a very fun experience.

Steve at first doesn’t understand how she can smile right now, how she can talk so comfortably to anybody after all of this… but he recognizes the look in her eyes as she talks with Lucas. He knows that look very well - she’s only barely holding it together. She’s putting up a front for the sake of Lucas and whatever other party member ends up being in the room with her. She doesn’t know them as well as someone like Joyce Byers or Karen Wheeler, but she’s a mother all the same. From what Max has said about her, she’s done the best she could for her (and Billy, too) when Neil was still in their lives and does the best she can now. Max hates it when she drinks. Steve knows that. But he also knows how much Susan loves Max, and how much Max loves her back. 

He knows that Susan bought the Hounds of Love tape for her. The one that’s probably sitting at the bottom of the upside down, abandoned with her broken tape player.

Steve senses her approach before he sees her - Mrs. Sinclair stands in the doorway and calls to Lucas softly in a way that makes Steve’s heart ache for him. Lucas and Susan pause their conversation, the boy grabbing whatever Stephen King book he brought today. Sometimes he alternates between books. Steve can’t keep up with which is which anymore, he was never a big horror fan himself and certainly isn’t one now.

“Bye, Ms. Mayfield,” Lucas waved politely as he passed her chair, receiving a gentle (tired) smile and a wave in return. He stopped by Steve to give him a quiet side hug. Steve wrapped both arms around him and rubbed his back, patting it once he was about to let go.

“See ya,” Steve squeezed his shoulder. “You take care, alright? Go take a nap or something.”

“No promises,” Lucas shrugged, leaving with his mother. 

The room was quiet after the Sinclairs left. The only real noise comes from the vital monitors or from outside the room. Susan’s chair creaked as she shifted around. Steve stayed where he was. Susan turned to look at him.

“You can come sit,” She said.

Steve shifted on his feet, glancing down at the ground before he finally pulled away from the wall, quietly taking the chair Lucas was sitting in.

“Steve, right? You drive Max and her friends around sometimes,”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

“They speak highly of you. Max, and Lucas sometimes, when I see him.”

The back of his skull itches. He’s been told that before but he can’t remember when. “O-Oh,”

“Lucas told me you carried her into the hospital.”

Steve swallowed, suddenly finding it hard to speak. “I did,”

“Thank you,” Susan says quietly. “For taking care of her.” The when I couldn’t stays unsaid. Steve only nods. There isn’t anything he can say to that. Not without crying.

“How is your leg?” Steve asked after a pause.

“Fine,” She shrugged distantly. “The day I  was discharged I went back to the trailer to survey the damage.”

“Oh?”

“We lost a lot of things but.. Max’s stuff was untouched. Thankfully.”

“That’s- That’s good, she’ll need all that when she wakes up,” 

The look he gives her is enough to tell him she knows they both doubt it’ll happen. They’re just both too polite to insinuate otherwise. “Right,”

They lapse into silence again. He’s staring at everything except for Max, everything except for Susan. He locks onto the drawing pasted on the wall - crudely drawn stick figures of Max and Lucas at the movies. Lucas had to redraw it by memory, having lost the original when the Creel House split in half. He was devastated about it when he realized he didn’t have the drawing with him, like it was the worst thing that could’ve ever happened. It very well could have been.

Staring at it made him think of the letters Max wrote.

“Ms. Mayfield,”

Susan looked at him, but he kept his eyes on the wall.

“Did you ever find a letter from her?”

“...Yes, why?”

“Just curious.”

“Steve?”

“...She wrote letters to us. As a failsafe.”

“For what?”

Steve doesn’t answer.

“Was… was it–”

“ No ! No– no no it wasn’t like that , it–” Fuck, how does he explain this? “She got… scared. Because of the killings. The other… victims were, uh. They were also seeing the school counselor and…” Steve waved his hand vaguely. “She saw a pattern and freaked a little, I guess.”

Thankfully, the story sticks. A little bit of tension rolled off of Susan’s shoulders, meanwhile Steve struggled to keep his cool, fidgeting in his seat. He wanted so desperately to cry. The letter Max wrote for him had been burning a hole in his glove compartment for the past week. He wanted so badly to just hold her tight to his chest in the hopes that it was enough to wake her up like the force of his love for her was all it took to bring her back, but he knows very well that isn't going to happen. He's already tried that elsewhere.

“I have to go,” He said suddenly, shooting to his feet and looking at his watch. The thing had been broken since Lover’s Lake (why didn’t he take it off?) but she didn’t need to know that. “I gotta, uh. My parents are… worried.”

Susan gives him a knowing look, but doesn’t protest. “It was nice to see you,”

Steve blinked, and smiled politely. “Yeah, stay safe.”

“You too,”

He didn't even look at Max before he left.

Chapter Text

MARCH 27TH 1986

Getting to the hospital was a fucking nightmare. The gates had torn through entire streets, blocking off traffic. People were running in the streets, smoke rose high and loudly above the trees and buildings. Sirens wailed from every direction, lights flashing enough to make someone sick. It was enough to make Nancy lay down the horn and blast it at people running in front of them like wild deer.

Steve carried Max inside, Lucas hot on his heels. Erica and Robin helped Dustin in while Nancy’s presence commanded for someone, someone to help . Max was taken immediately, Steve had to hold Lucas back from following her to get his own injuries looked at. 

Dustin insisted ( begged ) Steve came with him. After losing Eddie, how could he deny him that?

Given the limited amount of rooms and the amount of fatally injured people pouring in through the emergency room, Dustin was dismissed rather quickly. Steve held his hand the entire time, the only thing keeping them both grounded. 

Seems like the girls had the same idea, meeting them at the RV again. The Sinclair siblings were still missing. Did they pass them on the way out?

“Lucas said he was staying,” Nancy said as if she read his mind. “Which means Erica is staying with him.”

“Someone should be with them,” Steve sputtered out. “We can’t leave them by themselves again–!”

“Their parents are here,” How did they get here so fast? “So they’re... They’re not alone. I promise.”

“I’m tired,” Dustin mumbled.

“We’re going to get my car,” Nancy nudged Steve before sitting back in the driver’s seat. “And then we’re going to my place.”

“Okay,” Steve was too tired to protest. His own house was emptier, which would’ve been much safer, but the Wheelers had Ted and Karen, two actual adults , and as much as he loved and cared for these kids he was done being the grown-up. His entire body ached. He was tired. He barely heard anything the doctor said about Dustin’s ankle. He barely even noticed the Winnebago started moving, Dustin and Robin sandwiching him and resting their heads on his shoulders. He held both their hands tightly.

“I’ll drive,”

“It’s fine, Steve, I got this.”

“You’ve been at the wheel for, like, hours . Take a break.”

“Steve,” Stubborn. “Please.”

“Nancy.”

She looked him in the eyes, unwavering. Nancy could be stubborn as a mule. It was endearing, inspiring, and sometimes a little terrifying, but Steve held his ground, too. After a moment of silence (accompanied by Robin and Dustin shuffling awkwardly in the car next to them), Nancy’s shoulders dropped. She looked exhausted.

“I got this, okay?” Steve said, much more gentle this time.

“...Okay.”

“If Steve’s driving,” Robin said, cranking the window down. “Then I call shotgun.”

“No fair!” Dustin whined from the backseat. Steve couldn’t help but laugh.

“ You, Henderson, need to rest that leg and the front seat is not optimal for that.” He said, gesticulating with Nancy's keys as he climbed into the driver’s seat. He winced as he leaned forward to adjust the seat (damn you Nancy for being short), stretching the skin and fabric glued to his injuries. Maybe he should’ve gotten those checked out, but it’s too late now. “Besides, you get, like, a bunch of fucking space back there. Quit whining.”

“My car, I get shotgun,” Nancy said, opening the door. Unfortunately for her, Robin was already trying to climb in and it started a game of pushing and shoving each other out of the seat. Nancy was clearly irritated at first, but Robin’s giggling and Dustin encouraging the violence got a smile out of her. Steve honked the horn, startling the three of them.

“Girls, girls,” Steve sighed in fake exasperation, throwing his hands up. “You’re both pretty, can we go home now?”

Robin shoved Nancy back enough to climb into the passenger seat successfully, sticking her tongue out at Nancy. The other girl just rolled her eyes and climbed into the back back to allow Dustin space to sprawl out. 

The giggly mood faded out as soon as they got back on the main road. Nobody said a word until they got to the Wheelers’ home, thankfully, still in one piece.

APRIL 1ST 1986

“Steeeeeve,” A long, high-pitched whine called out. “Can we make hot chocolate…”

“What for?”

“For fun,” Robin kicked her heels against the arm of the couch, reaching up to poke Steve’s nose. “We can’t be depressed all the time, even though Hawkins is, like, literally on fire still. I’m sure kids were still on the playgrounds back in, like, 1918 or something.”

“I guess ,” Steve groaned playfully, shoving her off of his lap. “Get up, then.”

Robin did not get up and flopped unceremoniously onto the ground with another whine. She crawled pathetically after him which earned a laugh, a gentle kick to her side, and a dude, get up!

“Milk or water?”

Robin looked at him incredulously. “I’m sorry, water????”

Steve raised his hands defensively. “Not me, my mom. And Mike, sometimes.”

Robin fake gagged. “What the FUCK,”

“Milk, then?”

“Uh, yeah, doofus,” Robin swatted at his arm. “Who uses water in their hot chocolate, ew?”

“I know ,” Steve groaned and opened the fridge. A scan of its contents was a little concerning. Some things they were running low on, like ingredients. Pre-made meals were a little tougher to come by right now, so when they ran out of ingredients they were gonna have to start fighting people in Walmart over a pre-packaged chicken salad.

They had milk, though, so whatever. Steve put it on the counter and noticed Robin was rifling through the pantry aggressively like she was robbing it.

“Steeeeevieeee,” She whined again. “Where’s the cocoa powderrrrr?”

“If you would move , I can get it for you–”

“No! I’m a strong, independent woman, I’ll carry the heavy can myself. Just tell me where it is.”

“It’s right there.”

“Oh.” She slapped it onto the counter with a loud metallic CLAK! “Okay!” She paused. “Wait.”

SLAP

A bag of marshmallows. “ Okay !” Steve snorted at her enthusiasm, grabbing a few other things they’ll need like sugar and a pot. Might as well go all out, who knows when they’ll have a chance to do this again?

The process went as smoothly as it could with Robin’s newfound (and very welcomed) burst of energy, the two of them laughing and making a bit of a mess with the powder and nearly spilling the entire milk jug across the counter. Steve’s mother was banished from the kitchen when she tried to join them ( “Mrs. Harrington, I mean this in, like, the absolute nicest way possible, but I am NOT exposing myself to watery hot chocolate today.” “Dude!” “I’m just saying!” ), followed by his father reprimanding them despite Mrs. Harrington’s dismissal and, honestly, killing the mood a bit. Steve’s mother was un-banished, but Steve offered to make it for her instead as an apology. He trusted Robin to finish their mugs, grabbing a separate, much smaller pot, touching the scalding hot faucet water, and filling the pot. The joyful energy he had earlier had evaporated the second his father got involved, so Steve just focused on cleaning up between when he had to pay attention to the stove. 

“Mom, what mug do you want?” Steve called out.

“My purple one!”

My purple one! You have, like, a billion of those. He thought with a roll of his eyes. “There’s more than one purple one, Mom,” Steve said more politely.

“The one with the- the– oh, dear, what is it..” She snapped her fingers in the other room. His father said something inaudible – Steve looked at Robin but she just shrugged and made a face. “Oh, yes that one, thank you, Don. Stephen, it’s the one I got in Denver, Colorado!”

“Which one is that?”

“It has the name of the city on it.”

“‘Kay,” Steve couldn’t find it at first glance, but after pushing a few mugs to the side he found it, and pulled it out a little faster than he should’ve. It clattered against the edge of the cupboard and slipped out of his hand. Before he could react, the mug tumbled against his chest and shattered right on his socked foot.

A sharp pain made him shout and jump backward, slipping and bumping into the counter behind him with a white-knuckled grip –

MARCH 27TH 1986

The lawn chair beside him creaked as someone new sat down. Robin had abandoned him in favor of joining Nancy’s amateur gun-firing lecture to Max. Dustin gravitated towards Lucas and Erica. Somehow, Eddie had slipped under Steve’s radar and into his bubble without him realizing it.

“You looked a bit lonely, Steve,” Eddie teased, sprawling his legs in front of him in such an unmannerly way. “Thought I’d give you some company.”

“What a stand-up citizen you are, Eddie,” Steve scoffed lightly.

Eddie leaned in close to Steve, a little closer than he probably should have been, looking him right in the eyes. “Oh, I know, I’m nominated for a Nobel Peace Prize,” he giggled and leaned back with his arms spread out. “The Pope himself is gonna hand it out this year.”

“The Pope doesn’t give out Nobel Prizes.”

“He does now! Just for me specifically, nobody else gets such a high honor like this.”

Steve laughs.

MARCH 26TH 1986

“Steve,” Eddie whispered from the floor. “Psst. Steve.”

“What?”

“You awake?”

“Too fucked up not to be. I feel like I’ll drop dead if I try to sleep.”

“Aren’t you Little Miss Sunshine?”

Steve snorted a little too loudly and slapped his hand over his mouth and nose for a moment. “...What do you want?”

“Do you think I could, like.. Manage to sneak back to my trailer and grab some fresh clothes,”

“Dude,” Steve hissed, rolling onto his side to look down at Eddie. “It was already a close call smuggling you over here–”

“ – Smuggling.” Eddie giggled.

“ –I’m sure you can last another few hours.”

“You can go get it for me,”

“No.”

“C’mon,” Eddie pouted.

“No, Eddie.”

“Pleeeeeease,”

“Dude, no!” Steve rolled his eyes and onto his back. Eddie sat up and grabbed Steve’s bicep, tapping it with his fingers. Steve looked at him – woah, he was really close.

“This is the longest I’ve worn a single outfit and, man, this may surprise you but I am NOT enjoying living in my own filth right now.”

“Yeah, well, I’m dirty and gross, too. Suck it up.”

“I’ve been gross for like, three days! I have STANDARDS for myself, Harrington! I thought you of all people would understand..”

Steve raised an eyebrow, flicking Eddie’s forehead. “Well, we’ve got much bigger fish to fry than disgusting clothes, Munson.”

“Your bites are gonna get infected from how gross we are and then you will die.”

“Fun.”

Eddie scrunched his face up in a way that couldn’t exactly hide the mirth in his eyes despite the low light, slapping Steve’s bicep. Steve struggled to keep his giggling under control and started to slap back. He feels like he’s ten and at a sleepover with a friend where everything is suddenly ten times funnier when you’re trying to be quiet than it would ever be at a normal volume when everybody else was awake with you. 

“Stop–! Stop, we’re gonna wake somebody up!” Steve shushed, still slapping at Eddie’s hands. Wrong move, seeing as Eddie decided to lunge forward and trap Steve in a headlock like a cat and they both had to fight extra hard to keep their laughter quiet. Which wasn’t working, given the loud throat-hurting snort that Eddie let out when Steve’s flailing arms accidentally hit his ass.

“Guys.” They froze in place, looking directly at Robin. Did she just fucking growl at them? “Stop fucking and go to bed.”

Eddie gaped and sputtered back at her in… embarrassment? Then poor, poor Steve, shaking and wheezing and red in the face, had to cover his mouth with both hands after that one.

MARCH 26TH 1986

“What do you plan on doing when this is all over?” 

Illuminated by blood-red lightning, Eddie turned to look at him. “What?”

“Y’know,” Steve shrugged vaguely, stepping over a vine. “Like.. when Vecna’s gone. When your name is cleared and whatever. When you graduate?”

Eddie looked down, his brows and lip twitching thoughtfully. “Before... All of this , I actually was planning to celebrate graduating with a road trip.”

“Road trip?” Steve raised his eyebrows as silent encouragement.

“Yeah,” Eddie looked up, eyes deep in thought as his hands perched on his hips. “I was thinking… Indianapolis, Chicago… Maybe say hello to Dorothy in Kansas,” He laughed. “Las Vegas, Hollywood… Have you ever been to Disneyland before?”

“Don’t think so,” Steve shrugged. “I don’t think I’ve left the state. My parents do all the time for work and shit, but I stayed at home or with my Grandpa sometimes.”

“You never left Indiana. Have you even left Hawkins?”

“No, I’ve left Hawkins!” Steve said defensively, though he was unable to hide a slight smile. “I think my dad took me to see an Indy 300– no, no, Indy 500. They go, like, two hundred laps every year, it’s insane. I have a fucking framed photo of one of the race cars from that year in my bedroom.”

“A framed photo.”

“Yes! It just appeared in my bedroom a week later as a gift. It’s still on my wall. I didn’t even care that much about the race.”

“That… is fucking.. Hilarious.”

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up.”

“Would you ever want to go to Indianapolis again?”

Steve blinked, looking over to see Eddie staring back at him. The look on the other boy’s face was difficult to decipher. It was inquisitive, yes, but there was something more beneath it that Steve couldn’t quite place. Steve’s gaze flickered between Eddie’s eyes and his chin as he thought of an answer, looking back at the ground ahead of them. “Um… maybe, yeah, it’s been a few years since last time.”

Eddie just hummed and nodded.

“Why do you ask?” Steve felt he was treading thin ice now. Was Eddie offering something, or just asking out of curiosity? They hardly even knew each other and only really cleared the air between them a few minutes back. That was a lot to ask of someone you just met. 

Eddie hummed again, a twitch in the corner of his mouth.

“What, did you want to drag me along?”

“Well,” Eddie looked at him again. His expression was softer. “That depends. What are you gonna do when this is over?”

Steve pursed his lips, working his jaw to the side and feeling a little embarrassed about what he was about to say. “I’unno. Get bullied by freshmen, turn 20 in April, go back to Family Video if Keith hasn’t fired Robin and I yet. We’re a package deal, you know, can’t have one without the other.”

“Ah… Cosmic soulmates.” A wall comes up. Steve doesn’t understand why.

Exactly. “Nah, more like Irish twins.”

Immediately, the wall came back down, Eddie raising an eyebrow and looking back at the ground. They continued to walk in silence, following the girls out of the woods and onto a backroad branching into a few neighborhoods (Upside Down version).

“Would you... want to go with me?” For the first time since they met, Eddie’s voice sounded shy. Meek. Steve looked at him with something gentle.

“Sure, man,” He replied. “Of course. I don’t see why not.”

Eddie smiles at him. Steve smiles back.

MARCH 30TH 1986

At least when he was carrying Max, Steve had the benefit of her still being alive.

Every second Steve spent on this impulse trip was another second closer to losing his damn mind. He was already fucking crazy for coming all the way back here in the middle of the night. His parents are going to kill him. Robin is going to kill him. For the past week, Steve had been haunted by the drastic shift in Dustin. The kid had withdrawn from Steve since it all came crashing down. He could hardly get through to him. Dustin wouldn’t talk to him alone. Sure, they’d be in the same space just fine but… he was just so, so far away.

Maybe it had to do with being forced to leave Eddie behind.

There was no way Steve could bring Eddie back to the real Hawkins. Not without drawing attention to himself – he was already close to getting caught on the way through the trailer gate. Carrying an entire body through would slow him down, raise suspicion, and get the wrong set of eyes on him. He didn’t want that for himself. He didn’t want that for Eddie. He deserved some fucking rest.

So, into the remains of Eddie’s bedroom (the Wrong Version of it), Steve goes, forcing the porch door open with the agonizingly heavy dead weight of a boy that should’ve only been 170 pounds. The door had been bent and nearly ripped off its hinges – he had to use his foot and his back to push open the damn thing – and the ceiling was pulled low enough that Steve had to duck in order to get into the room.

It was a time capsule. He knew this the first time he went through. Certain posters were missing and others weren’t in the real trailer, the dresser was in a completely different place. There were lots of things in different places, actually. Steve takes in the room. He takes in every detail he can. If the Upside Down is stuck in 1983, then this would’ve been Eddie’s first crack at his senior year, not that he would’ve known that back then. 

Eddie’s mattress had been ripped into nothingness, forcing Steve to grab a cot folded in the living room (he assumes this must’ve been his uncle’s bed) and struggle with opening it up and transferring the mattress onto Eddie’s bed base. He nearly cried out of frustration having to unstrap something here and (accidentally) rip something there. There was no reason for it to be perfect. The trailer was collapsing around him, but he owed this much to Eddie for what he’s done for them, for what he’d been going through. He owed it to Eddie to lay his body to rest somewhere he called home. 

It wasn’t easy. Steve spent what felt like hours just holding cold, cold Eddie tight against his chest as if it was enough to bring him back. He knew that laying him down meant he was gone gone. That Dustin and Lucas and Mike weren’t going to see him again. That Eddie wasn’t going to graduate after spending three years fighting to do so. That Eddie wasn’t going to ride across the country. That Eddie wasn’t going to take Steve to see Indianapolis, and that meant really seeing it.

He spent even longer sitting on the floor after laying Eddie down. Steve had been a lucky kid, he’d gone his whole life until recently without truly experiencing a loss so heavy like this. Any dead relatives he had were long gone before he was alive or conscious enough to know who they are. Any funerals he went to were sparse and for somebody who was a work “friend” of his father’s or a distant cousin of his mother’s. He didn’t know them.

Steve only knew Barb by extension, and even then the only thing that he really mourned was how things used to be before her death. It was selfish and he feels awful about it. He doesn’t know her. He never did and he never will, but every day it’s been haunting him.

He went to her funeral. He went to Bob Newby’s funeral. He remembers he lent Jonathan something to wear for one of them. Bob was a nice guy, Steve heard. It was the second funeral he felt true grief at, but was it really true if he hardly knew them?

He hates that it hurts. He hates how pathetic he feels. He hates the burning emptiness and he’s drowning in too many emotions that he can’t even try to place names to them. It’s so cold down here. It’s so empty. He’s surprised he hasn’t actually cried yet. Why does he want to cry? Is he mourning the person or the consequences of his death? Is he mourning Eddie for what he is, or what he could’ve been, where they could’ve gone?

How can he mourn a man he hardly knew? Was this real grief?

Steve takes a final cursory sweep over the dilapidated bedroom. Had the blood not been there, Eddie looked like he could just be sleeping. Sleeping so stiffly with his arms against his sides.

He spots something on top of the dresser – a mug with a scratched, washer-worn decal filled with chewed pencils and half-empty pens.

The Children’s Museum

of Indianapolis

1925 * 1975

Steve stuffs it into his jacket pocket. He lets the pens and pencils clatter onto the carpeted floor and closes the bedroom door.

He pauses.

“...’Night, Eds,” Steve whispers. The door clicks all the way closed. He climbs through the gate.

APRIL 1ST 1986

He’s crying over a fucking mug. A mug his mother probably won’t even miss. His hands are shaking as he picks up the pieces. Robin rounds the corner immediately and cups his face in her hands, kneeling just in front of him.

“Steve, ” She gasps. “Hey– are you hurt?”

“Robin–” He squawks out as a sob painfully rips itself through his entire body. 

“Stevie, it’s just a mug, it’s okay,”

“No, it’s not!” His voice sounds strangled and wet. “It’s not just a mug!”

Hats and novelty mugs were hanging on the walls.

A shattered Garfield mug.

It makes his heart hurt more.

“Stephen, honey– please-please calm down,” His mother said from the threshold of the kitchen. 

Robin presses her forehead against Steve’s, running her hands up and down his shoulders. Even in his hysteria, he could tell she was at a loss for words.

“When he–” Steve heaves out. “Oh, God, when he sees – Robin he’s going to be fucking heartbroken–”

“What– Who? See what?” Robin pulls back to look at him, wide-eyed and confused. Perhaps a little scared, even, not that Steve blames her right now.

“The trailer,” He croaked. “Oh my God, the trailer– the- the mugs, Robin, the mugs!”

“The–” It clicks in her head. “Steve, who?”

“He’s gonna be so upset,” Steve sobbed. “They’re all broken,”

“ Steve .” Her tone shuts him up, but it softens when she speaks again. “Who is going to be upset?”

“Eddie,” Steve whispers. He clenches his hands around the ceramic shards in his palms. The edges are sharp. It hurts, but it’s nothing compared to the anguish in his heart.

MARCH 30TH 1986

He pulls up into the driveway, parking and resting his head against the wheel. He’s so tired. It’s a miracle he made it back without crashing into something. Steve’s already decided he’s just going to sleep in the car, his eyes drooping lower and lower.

A door slams in the near distance, loud enough to bring Steve’s mind into foggy wakefulness. A loud and hard knock against the car door wakes him up fully.

Robin is pissed . Steve scrubs his hands down his face and opens the door.

“Welcome back, asshole ,” Robin snaps, grabbing the door and caging him in. With her other hand, she waves a piece of paper in his face. “What. The. Hell .”

“I told you I needed to do something,”

“You left in the middle of the night and you didn’t even say where you were going, and you didn’t pick up the radio at all when I signaled for you! I was worried sick ! I thought you drove your car straight into the Upside Down! I thought you- you were hurt or–” Her voice catches in her throat, cutting her rant short. Robin cups a hand over her mouth as her eyes shimmer with tears. Steve met her eyes and opens his arms with an offering.

Of course, she takes it, sitting awkwardly in his lap and crying softly into his shirt.

APRIL 1ST 1986

Steve's parents were still downstairs. They were both pissed about the mug and were far too ready to give him an earful; the breakdown was unexpected and they couldn't find it within themselves to even try to help.

He could hear them talking to each other. He doesn't know what about, but he has a few guesses.

“Did you go to the Upside Down the other night?”

Steve looked up at Robin. In her hands were their hot chocolate mugs. She reheated them after Steve had cried himself to exhaustion and brought him upstairs. He accepts his when she hands it over. It’s warm. “...How did you know?”

“I didn’t. You were just… really cold,” She answered in a quiet voice, sitting next to him on the bed. “You smelled like death.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I’m pretty sure the Upside Down is, like… leaking into the Right Side Up, now. It’s normal, now, but it was just stronger that day.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh ,” There was no malice behind it.

Steve squeezed his mug. It was warm. It's loving. He took a sip. Robin pulled one of his hands into her own, lacing their fingers together and took a sip from her own mug. She looked at him. He stared at her.

“...What?”

“You have a mustache. We’re twins for real, now.”

Robin wiped her upper lip with her wrist. There wasn’t anything there. She scowled at him. “Liar.”

Steve chuckled, squeezing her hand. Robin squeezed back.

“When did you get that?” She asked. When Steve did nothing but stare blankly, she gestured with her mug-hand to his own. “I’ve never seen that one before, and I’ve seen, like, all of the Harrington mugs before.”

“What?” Steve looked at the mug in his hands, twisting it to see the scratched, washer-worn logo. “Oh.”

The Children’s Museum

of Indianapolis

1925 * 1975