Chapter Text
Steve shrugged on a sweater, shaking his hair free of the deformed mess it had made of itself in his sleep, knowing that he should have a shower, make his hair perfect again, but not having the strength to.
He had to make sure that everyone was okay. He needed to go to the hospital, check on Max and Eddie, and make sure that the rest of the kids were eating and sleeping.
Luckily, Hopper, Joyce, and Jonathan were back, so they were keeping an eye on the kids, too, but Steve still had to do his part.
And, he couldn’t imagine staying in his abandoned house for another day. Not only had his parents completely left, but the house seemed filled to the brim with hopelessness and abandonment. They didn’t even give him a phone call to say goodbye. All they left was a note, not even telling him where they had moved to.
Steve wasn’t sure how he felt about it. He wanted to see them, to say goodbye, but he didn’t want them to see him. They’re beautiful, beautiful son, covered in scars.
It was always something they prided themselves in, especially his mother. She always boasted about how her son was so handsome, so beautiful, just like her. And he was always called out during dinners, everyone complimenting his hair, his eyes, his skin (which , he never understood. How could he change his skin? Why did everyone keep talking about it?), everyone saying that he was exactly like his mother.
Now, though, he could see his family hiding him, telling him to cover up the scars on his neck, hiding what had become of him. His perfect skin was gone, and they would be ashamed of it, if they knew.
He could hear his mother’s voice in his mind, mourning over the sharp pink lines on his neck, the blotches of bright skin on his abdomen, and saying how her image was ruined. She didn’t have a perfect son anymore. His good looks were gone. So she, and all of the reputation that she had built through him, was basically nothing. She would blame him for getting hurt, for having scars.
He didn’t really understand it. But he knew that that was how she would react. It was her reaction, her words that she said, every time he came home with blood on his face. A bruise on his cheek. A black eye.
She never asked how he got it, she only asked how long it would take to heal. How long for her beautiful son to return. How long for her reputation to be secured as a gorgeous mother with a gorgeous son.
Steve never had an answer for her. But, he knew now, looking in the mirror, that her son would never recover from this. He would never hear his mother call him beautiful again. He may never hear her voice again.
But, he couldn’t change that. He could only focus on the now. On the scars on his body, scars that wouldn’t heal.
He didn’t even know how to show his face in public. The scars on his neck were visible, too visible, and he had no clue how others would react. Would he become the gossip of the town, like he had when Nancy broke up with him? Would anyone even care? Would he just be a walking reminder to his friends of the dangers of this town, of the pain they had all endured?
No one had mentioned the wounds that would, and have, scarred, but that was because they were recovering from battle, two of their friends in the hospital fighting their own fight, battling for their lives. But, now? When everything was getting a bit better? They wouldn’t want him around.
Like his mother, if they were associated with him the town would hate them, as much as Steve would become hated, too. They wouldn’t risk that, would they? Hanging out with the kid with the scars and no parents?
Steve sighed, grabbing a scarf and wrapping it around his neck. He needed to check on the kids, but he would never, never hurt them like that. He hoped that the scarf would hide it, at least hide the scars well enough to be seen by the world.
And, if he flinched when Joyce Byers called Will or Jonathan “my beautiful boy”, no one had to know.