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During the day, Steve could keep himself busy.
He spent most of his time at the school gym, helping with the relief effort. The opening of the gates, - the “earthquakes”, as the news called it - had left so many people in need of so many different things. Steve had found unexpected peacefulness in folding clothes, making food, helping people with small and bigger things. By now, Steve was also used to getting the occasional side-glance – people were not quite used to seeing a Harrington be so gentle and so willing to help others. Besides helping Hawkins’s residents, he still put in some hours at Family Video, even though there were fewer and fewer customers. He needed the money.
Nights were different.
The nightmares were frequent. He had had them since the first fight with the Demogorgon, a lifetime ago, that night where he picked up the nail bat to defend Jonathan and Nancy. Sometimes he dreamt he was too late or missed that first swing. Many nightmares were about the Russian guards and what they had done to him underneath Starcourt Mall. There were others about drowning in Lover’s lake - water was terrifying now, and he had been, still wanted to be, an avid swimmer. Nightmares about being strangled and eaten by feral bats. Those were the worst ones, the ones that too often led to him waking up screaming or sobbing.
So, the last few nights, Steve had tried to avoid sleeping altogether. He had also gone back to smoking marihuana, but whenever he did that, his thoughts inevitably strayed to Eddie. Eddie who had been flirting with him since the moment they met. Steve would always regret not having to courage on time to talk openly to Eddie about that.
He also tried to keep his mind of his *other* failure. The one time he hadn’t been the babysitter, Max died. Nearly died. Dustin got injured.
They were all still in town – the Party. Dustin, the other kids, Nancy, Robin, they had all stayed in Hawkins. For the same reason, mostly, that Steve had stayed. A shared sense of responsibility.
#
Since the night the gates opened, Steve had provided a standing invite to all extended Party members to use his house whenever and for whatever they wanted. The house had not been too damaged, contrary to so many other homes, and he just wanted to help. He enjoyed cooking, and having company made him feel a bit more alive, normal, *grounded*. Tonight, Robin was there – she almost lived with him now - as were Nancy and Jonathan, Joyce and Hopper, and Dustin had even brought his mom.
Steve chuckled briefly – no doubt Dustin had been gushing to his mom all the way over about how *good* Steve’s food was.
Steve had installed his guests in the living room and busied himself in the kitchen making pepperoni loaf pizzas. The pleasant chatter coming from the living room was soothing. The house felt less empty and sad somehow, more home-like. There had been plenty of parties here when he was still in High School - a lifetime ago it seemed - but this felt so much more put together, *normal*.
Too bad it was under such crappy circumstances.
Today had been an overall crappy day too. Last night he had briefly dozed off after having smoked some marihuana, and from utter fatigue, and his nightmares had been especially bad. He had shot up out of bed and had banged his head. After two severe concussions in a few years, even a slight bang to his head gave him migraines and dizzy spells. Today was no different, and he had managed to drop pretty much every video box and item he’d had in his hands today. The wounds on his stomach had been especially itchy and just didn’t seem to heal right. He was feeling grumpy, but at least the aspirin had taken the edge off the headache. Mostly.
The dough was prepped, sprinkled with ingredients, all ready for the oven. The final item to prepare was the pizza sauce. He sliced the tomatoes, put them in the saucepan. He reached in the cabinet to take the spices, and his hand missed the jar entirely. He frowned and tried again.
Gotcha.
But then his left hand just seemed to lose its grip on the jar, and he saw it fall to the floor almost in slow motion. It shattered with a loud crack, and spices covered his whole kitchen floor.
He yelled out in surprise more than anything “FUCK! Godammit, FUCK this!”
He slammed his fist on the kitchen counter, closed his eyes, and tried to focus on his breathing. Perfect. Just one more thing, right? Breathe, Steve, breathe.
#
He could hear the chairs scraping in the living room. Someone would be coming.
Come on guys. Give me a few minutes here.
He heard very light footsteps approaching.
Don’t.
He could feel the now-familiar-but-still-odd mix of anger and panic rising. He squeezed his left hand, relaxed it. Squeezed. Relaxed, and timed his breathing with the gesture.
No, no, no. Leave me alone.
A gentle hand touched his shoulder and he stiffened instinctively.
“Steve…” Robin spoke hesitantly. “Is there anything I can do?” she asked. “I mean apart from cleaning up that is.”
Steve felt his thoughts starting to spiral.
Nothing. Nothing. Just leave me be.
“Thanks Robin. It’s fine…I’ll be fine. Just… just gimme a minute, yea?” he spoke, trying to masquerade the anger and panic. It wasn’t her fault.
Just breathe, man. Breathe. You’re spiraling again. Don’t do it in front of them. Breathe.
“D’you wanna go in the living room? I can clean up a little and then we can finish our meal and then maybe talk about all this, just you and me maybe, or I don’t know, with the others too if you like? But either way, Steve, please come, to the living room?” She spoke fast, she always did when she was stressed.
“Fine.” He started to move and found the strap of his apron catch on the kitchen doorhandle. That was literally his last straw for today.
“God DAMN it all to hell!” he shouted and kicked violently at the door, making Robin back away in surprise and fear.
“Stupid… piece…of… JUNK!” – he kicked at the door with each word, until it splintered in three pieces. He was vaguely aware of Robin backing away and Hopper moving towards him, but his vision was narrowing fast, and he didn’t care. He knew none of them had heard him explode like this and yell in anger before, and he didn’t care.
“Steve!” Hopper said in his best de-escalating cop voice. “Calm down!”
Steve rounded on Hopper, panting, and boiling with anger.
“Calm DOWN! You wan’ me to calm down?” he shouted and took a large step towards Hopper. When the larger man took a noticeable step back too, Steve blinked.
“What, like, I need to be calm and cool and collected and nothing can ever be wrong with Steeeeve, right?” he drawled out his name. “Or is it that you all just don’t care? That I’m good to babysit and nothing more? That it?” Steve’s voice got higher and louder until it broke – his recovering throat wasn’t having any more. He just managed a final “FUCK, that ends now then!” in a soft whisper. He clenched his fists and glared at Hopper.
It hadn’t escaped Steve’s attention that he had a full audience by now. Hopper was a few steps away from him, watching, observing, like he was a wounded animal.
He’s not wrong in that.
Robin and Nancy were watching from the door, eyes wide open with surprise. Dustin, too. His mom had a protective arm over his chest.
Dustin looks scared – stop it man! The kid is scared!
“Let’s see, eh?” He couldn’t stop himself and glared at the little group, eyes shining with angry tears. “Since I was twelve, I was usually home alone, and no one ever wondered why. You all have your parents here to help you and support you. I never had! Through all of this, I never had! You might think it’s nothing and your parents get in the way, but I would have killed for having my parents around those first years. Someone to take care of me all those times I was concussed or sad or had nightmares, instead of having to do it all by myself. But I guess that’s made me who I am, no?” he took a deep breath.
“And then, three years ago the shit really hit the fan, didn’t it. Barbara goes missing from my house, at a party that I wasn’t even supposed to be havin’. My dad had some choice words and… uhh… other things… to say on that.” he paused. “Then, Jonathan beat the shit out of me.” I deserved it that time. “And I deserved it.” He repeated out loud and looked directly at Jonathan. “Sorry again, man.”
He holds up his hand and starts counting off on his fingers.
“Then I fight a fucking creature from another dimension with a homemade nailbat – I mean, who does that?” he giggled and started getting more frantic. Another finger went up.
“The only woman I ever loved dumped me and I deserved that.” He didn’t look at Nancy - too afraid he might collapse in a heap of tears and regrets.
“My friends all dump me. No big loss. Deserved that too.”
He closed his eyes briefly and he wobbled a bit from fatigue and stress.
“Billy shows up, and I get my ass handed to me AGAIN. Except HE leaves me with a super nasty concussion. And because of that and me being an idiot anyway my grades started to slip, to the point I barely graduated. Couldn’t even get into Tech with my grades. I end up in Scoops. Wearing that stupid outfit and being mocked by everyone. Thank god I was too much of an idiot to really catch on to it back then. And then, the… the Russians... um… yea.” He stopped talking and dropped his hands to his side, not bothering to count anymore. For good measure he kicked at the nearest cabinet.
“That was torture. Literal torture.” He said softly. “Oh yea, and I got another concussion. I couldn’t see straight or hear well for a couple weeks. Still can’t, not on my left side. I lost my job, my dad cut me off, like any of this was my FUCKING fault!” He punched the cabinet.
“And then just when I think the crazy stuff is gone and I got things nice and stable for myself, we get dragged into this BULLSHIT again, expect this time I nearly drown, some bats with who-know-what kinds of diseases chew on me, I get strangled twice, people die. The scrapes on my back and neck are itchy, my stomach is KILLING me and I keep thinking about how this was for Eddie when he DIED!” He punched the cabinet again, vaguely aware of an increasing pain in his hand and the now half broken cover.
His voice was hoarse from the shouting, but he was not done yet.
“And now you tell me to calm down? Calm down? I’m not calm. Not even close.” He punched at the cabinet a final time, hard, and felt the skin on his knuckles split.
“And then I DROP everything I get in my hands today and have A MESSED-UP KITCHEN and I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO *FUCKING* DO ANYMORE!” he finished with a final half-sob-half-shout and just sat down on the floor, panting, sobbing, and only half aware of the blood from his hand dripping on the floor.
#
Dustin was the first to move. He shrugged off his mothers’ arm – leading to a surprised “Dusty!” from Claudia – sat down next to Steve and without saying a word, flung his arms around the best brother/father figure he had ever had.
Once again, Steve froze at the touch, but quickly softened and sobbed into Dustin’s shoulder, not caring who heard or saw. A few seconds later he felt two pairs of larger arms around him. Robin and Nancy. He continued sobbing, amazed at the warmth and compassion they showed.
“So-u-rry” he half sobbed, “guys, I didn’t mean…” he tried to apologize.
“Shh, Steve, it’s okay. It’s okay.” Someone said softly and caressed his hair. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”
After a while Steve felt his breathing settle, comforted by the warmth and presence of Dustin, Nancy, and Robin. He sighed.
“Sorry guys. You didn’t need to see that.” he tried to disentangle himself, to get up, run away somehow. He pressed his hands on the floor and felt a shooting pain in his left hand.
“Uhm, I seem to have made myself bleed. I’m gonna need…”
Before he could finish, Hopper spoke. “I’ll take a look. Come on kids, let the man get up. I’ll need to check his hand.”
The authority in Hopper’s voice was undeniable, and the teens helped Steve to his feet.
“Give us a minute. Claudia, please wait a minute. Joyce, can you take the others to the living room please.”
Steve remained quiet, standing in his destroyed and dirty kitchen, completely deflated, while the others filed out. He didn’t look up, not able to meet their eyes.
Hopper sighed.
“Steve, kid…” he paused. “Why didn’t you come to us before?”
Steve just shrugged.
“You, we… we were all busy and struggling with our own stuff, no? I didn’t want to pile on more. You don’t… deserve that?”
“Asking for help is not being difficult, Steve.” Hopper states. “We all need it. Especially here in Hawkins.”
“Can I see your hand honey?” Claudia asked. “And maybe you can show us those bites too?”
“You can see my hand.” Steve held it out, and only briefly flinched when pressure was applied. He’d had worse. “The rest, I… I’d rather not?” he spoke softly. “I’ll manage that later.”
“Steve.” Hopper said. “Look at me. Not today, but one of these days, you and me, we are going to have a long talk. About all this, and about what you said about your folks.” He looked Steve right in the eye, and tilted his face, looking for a confirmation.
“Fine.” Steve relented and nodded. “For now, could you help me clean this up though? So I can finish cooking?”
Claudia gave him a surprised look. “Steve, sonny, you’re not cooking right now. Let Joyce and me take this okay? You’ll cook for us next time.” She squeezed his good hand.
Next time. There would be a next time. They are not going to abandon me just yet.
END