Archive of Our Own ^beta

Steve knows he’s about to make the biggest mistake of his life.

He felt it coming, as soon as he opened that godforsaken yellow folder that was supposed to fix things, not make them break apart even further. Eddie walked in the door and saw it sitting there on the coffee table, and his entire disposition changed. Steve knew he probably thought it was another paper trail for dealing with their truly horrendous landlord.

So he made sure to tell Eddie everything, give him all the information he could. He got his absolute dream internship, the best one available in his field, and the only catch was they had to move to Minneapolis in two weeks. It was a reach, Steve knew, to assume Eddie would be okay with it, or even happy about it. But he hadn’t expected to be frozen out.

Eddie’s sitting on the loveseat, knees to his chest, with no expression on his face.

“It’ll definitely be an adjustment… but we’ll have each other. There’s a landline in the apartment, I double checked. We can call whoever we want, whenever we want. And the internship is paid, so if on the off chance you can’t find something right away, we should be okay.” Steve’s babbling at this point, desperate. He just needs Eddie to be okay, to be with him instead of just around him.

They haven’t been checked-out of their relationship, necessarily. Life was just busy and that’s a good thing, according to Eddie. He was happy that they had lives outside of monster-hunting and babysitting, that they got to be normal twenty-somethings who got jobs and went to school and had a cheap apartment. Steve had tried as hard as he possibly could to be happy about it too, to participate in his life instead of letting it pass him by.

He couldn’t find it in himself to tell Eddie that despite finally having some kind of direction, he’s never felt so lost.

“I can’t freeload off of you, Steve. I won’t.”

Steve’s chin is starting to wobble, tears springing to his eyes. He really thought he could be more than money. He thought he could be support, be a means to the end of the shit Eddie still faces in Hawkins. When he looks at Eddie’s face again, it’s a hard, angry mask. A facade. Steve can’t even be trusted with his real feelings.

“It’s called supporting each other, Eddie. I don’t expect you to uproot everything and immediately have your shit together, that would be ridiculous.” There’s a bitterness to his words that his anxiety puts there. He just hopes, prays to whoever’s out there that Eddie will see past the bitter and look at the fear.

“Really? Because that’s what you’re doing. You’re uprooting your entire life, your friend group, your job, your apartment, your boyfriend, and you have a plan for all of it. Steve, there’s a step by step list in that folder.”

Steve’s prayers clearly went unanswered. Again.

“Do you know how long I’ve spent on this? How long the application process took? I’ve been planning this for months, Eddie. I did half this shit when we were sitting together!”

Eddie had been sitting next to Steve on that same loveseat when he was going through hours of paperwork. He hadn’t even been halfway through when Eddie took him in his mouth without so much as asking what he was doing.

Eddie put his head in his knees and sighed. “Then maybe you should’ve clued me in, Steve. Maybe you should’ve, I don’t know, leaned over and said, ‘hey, boyfriend of three years, how does this sound?’ But instead, you planned my life for me.”

Steve can’t do this. He can’t be overbearing, snippy Mama Harrington to one of the two people who’ve ever taken the time to really see him. He drops his chin down to his chest and scoots away from Eddie, trying not to curl into himself.

“I thought you would want a fresh start. You’re fucking miserable, Eds. Your name got cleared, but people still treat you like shit, and I honestly thought you’d wanna get the hell away from that. And… do it with me.” All he’s ever wanted since March of ‘86 was to be with Eddie, make him happy. Love him.

“I just wanted a little more say in what I do, babe, that’s all. A fresh start might be nice, but it’s scaring the shit out of me. Especially because I had no hand in it.” It’s supposed to be an olive branch of sorts, Steve figures. It just feels like an accusation. You’re forcing your hand, King Steve, it says.

His instincts take over, and it’s like his feelings disappear. It’s been years since he’s had an off button, his feelings just kept pouring out all over the place ever since 1983. When he went back into the Byers’ house, when Nancy tore him apart in a bathroom on Halloween, when he’d barely even known Robin before telling her about his fucking daddy issues, when he confessed his hopeless, bleeding love to Eddie when he was asleep in the hospital, being transfused with the blood Steve immediately put on offer.

They’re hitting a wall. Unstoppable force versus immovable object. Steve’s anxiety-riddled brain tells him they might as well hit the wall hard if they’re going to hit it.

“I took care of everything. I called the landlord at the complex, I asked him for pictures, I spent hours on applications. All I’m asking you to do is find a job, and live with me. Which you’re already doing.”

He schools his face carefully, bracing for impact. He’s just waiting now. Waiting for ‘bullshit.’

“What you’re asking me to do is upend my entire life in two weeks, and now that I’m putting up a fuss about it, you’re mad. Admit it, Steve. You’re just angry that I’m not rolling over,” Eddie says.

Close enough.

“Oh, fuck you. You’re twenty fucking three, I’m pretty sure I don’t need an adult man to ‘roll over’, you asshole.”

Steve has never been one to back down from a fight. Even one he knows he’ll lose.

“You sure? Because you’re trying to herd me around like one of the kids, and I’m not. Like you said, I’m twenty fucking three and I’m not gonna just blindly move four states away just because you tell me to.”

That isn’t- no. “I’m not telling, I’m asking-”

“And I’m saying no! I can’t leave Wayne, I just managed to get a job, and I can’t make friends like you do. I’ll be hours away, with nothing.”

There it is. The ‘bullshit’ he knew would come eventually. It just took three years this time.

Steve gets up from the loveseat. He needs space, enough physical room to safely detach himself like he knows he needs to do. His arms cross over his chest reflexively, holding himself together. He doesn’t need to unravel like the string Eddie’s yanking on.

“Nothing, huh?” The crack in his voice gives him away, he knows it.

Eddie rolls his eyes, put upon. “That’s not what I meant, Steve, you know that.”

“Do I? Of all those things you just listed that you can’t leave, I wasn’t there.”

He just needs Eddie to say it. Spit it out angrily so he can move on to wallowing in his inevitable heartbreak. His thoughts flashback to last year, right around Halloween, when he cried in Eddie’s arms on that tiny loveseat they got from an estate sale because he was so scared Eddie would figure out he wasn’t anything to write home about. That he was just Steve, just some guy with no direction in life. Eddie had just held him close, murmured sweet, assuring things in Steve’s ear until he calmed. It seems ingenuine now, even though he knows it wasn’t.

Eddie’s face drains of color, and it almost gives Steve hope. “I don’t want to leave you, Steve. God, no, I- I’d never want to leave you. We can do long distance? I have a landline, so do you, and-”

Steve remembers he can’t afford to have hope. He’s taken too much already, asked for too much, been denied. He crosses his arms tighter and wills himself to turn his heart off and detach.

He shakes his head. “No one survives long distance. If you’re gonna dump me, can we get it fucking over with?”

It’s not that he wants to break Eddie’s heart or anything malicious. He just can’t stand the drag of it when it’s right there in front of him. A big glowing sign that says ‘HEARTBREAK HOTEL, VACANCY FOR ONE.’

Three years, two months, and eleven days and it was time to give it up, the wild delusion that anyone could love him for a lifetime.

Eddie sets his face, his eyes mean and his jaw squared. “No. If you want to get it over with so badly, you do it. You look me in the face and tell me you want to leave. Break my heart like you fucking mean it.”

Steve is sure Eddie can see him cracking apart, breaking down in the dusty quiet of their living room. If he does see it, he sure isn’t showing it. Steve should’ve known Eddie would keep his cards close to his chest. He has to do it, has to sever the string.

“I’ll pack what I can, and send Robin for the rest.”

–

He shows up at Robin’s apartment, soaked from the rain. Of course it’s raining on one of the worst nights of his fucking life. All he’s got is a couple changes of clothes, a fifth of vodka, and his Polaroids from the corkboard in the hall. He finally brings himself to knock on the back door to the apartment after standing on the rickety wooden landing for ten minutes, despite the rain.

“Be right there!” Robin shouts, most likely from the kitchen. He starts crying harder at the sound of her warm, croaky voice and pinches himself on the wrist, trying to get it the fuck together.

The door swings open and the smile that was on her face for half a second slides right off.

“Steve? Steve, what’s wrong?”

Robin corrals him into the apartment, and he feels horrible about dripping rainwater all over the carpet she just had to have replaced.

“The-the carpet, Robbie, I’m sorry, the carpet,” he babbles, breath shuddering.

Robin, bless her, wraps her arms around him and holds tight. “I don’t care about the carpet, Steve. Tell me why you’re crying.”

She lightly peels his jacket off and hangs it on the coat rack next to him and he shivers. The backpack with his clothes and things is deposited on the floor, and Robin keeps one arm around his shoulders while she takes him to her room. Steve stays standing, not wanting to ruin her bedding. She grabs some pajamas from her drawer, a t-shirt and sweatpants that were definitely Steve’s a couple years ago. He’s grateful they smell like her fabric softener and not Eddie. He keeps sniffling, not being able to stop the tears once they’ve started. He’s like a leaky faucet that way, inconvenient and always leaking all over people who don’t deserve it.

Robin steers him into the bathroom, handing him a fluffy purple towel and closing her eyes so he can dry himself and change. “Hang your clothes in the shower when you’re done, okay?’

Steve murmurs in the affirmative so she knows he was listening. He dries his hair, scrunching out all the rainwater before methodically stripping down to his socks and then stripping those too. He hasn’t been able to look in the mirror lately, and now isn’t an exception. He turns toward the shower while he pulls the t-shirt over his head and the sweatpants on.

“Could I borrow some fuzzy socks?” His voice is completely shot from the crying.

He peeks over at her, and she’s got a sad smile on her face. “Of course, Sneezy. C’mon, back to my room.”

She doesn’t push, doesn’t demand answers from him as she rummages through her drawer for a pair of comfortable socks. She just hands them to him and sits down next to him on her bed, shoulder to shoulder. He stays quiet, trying his best to breathe naturally.

“Do I need to call Eddie?” There’s only two people who can truly bring him down from the dizzying high of panic, and Robin just wants him to be okay. It’s sweet, and it’s not her fault her sweetness is misplaced this time.

Steve crumples into her shoulder. “Broke up.”

This time it’s her who just says a simple, “oh.”

He nods into her shoulder, leaking tears again. Robin’s arms wrap around him, holding him close while he cries into her t-shirt. “Steve, honey, I’m so sorry,” she whispers.

“He’s not coming with me.”

It hangs in the air like fog, an all-encompassing statement that puts cracks in Steve’s existence. It hits him then. He’s moving to a different state completely alone.

you’re on your own, kid, the universe tells him.

Robin just holds him tighter, crushing him into the spot where her shoulder and armpit meet. “Well, then I will. I’ll come with you.”

He just cries harder. He’s already ruined his own life, why should he ruin Robin’s?

Steve tries to tell her as much, but she cuts him off.

“I’m gonna help you move up there, and stay with you for a week. Even if you have no furniture, I don’t care. If you need me to stay for six months, I will, Steve, it’s okay. You won’t be able to get rid of me. Not now, not ever. Whenever one of us gets married, the other will just live in the basement, thems the rules.”

Steve hiccups into her shoulder, nodding. He hopes he won’t have to say anything else, his throat hurts from trying to hold his tears.

“C’mon, time for bed.” Robin shifts him so he’s lying down on the right side of the bed, pulling the blankets over him. She puts a pillow over his eyes so she can change, and it almost makes him smile. When she slides into bed, she holds him close to her again, his back against her chest.

“Nighty-night, Sneezy. Love you.”

“I love you too, Cardinal.”

–

Robin goes to get the rest of his things the next day. She’s gone for a few hours, but Steve doesn’t move. It’s like his limbs are weighted with cement, and his brain is filled with nothing but black static. He doesn’t move a muscle, just stays in the same position he woke up in and stares at the wall. Eventually, the back door slams open, and he figures Robin’s back.

“Rise and shine, Sneeze! You have a lot of shit, just so you know!”

The bedroom door is open, so he sees her dump a bunch of tote bags packed to the brim onto the living room floor. She looks at him from the living room and gives him a soft little smile. “You gonna help me carry all your things up here, or what?”

He blinks, nods, and gets up.

The wooden stairs down to the parking lot aren’t any less precarious when he’s dragging the contents of his life up them. Everything gets dumped in the living room to be sorted later, when he has his wits about him. He isn’t exactly sure when that will be.

When all of his things are in a pile on the floor, Robin sits him down on the couch.

“So.”

The look on her face is hesitant, like she shouldn’t be saying whatever it is she wants to say.

Steve sighs. “Go ahead and say it, Robs.”

“He looks like shit, Steve. He looked like he didn’t sleep at all, and there was whiskey out, and I know you packed a bottle in your backpack, and the first thing he said was ‘is Steve okay?’ He asked if you had a panic attack and bawled his fucking eyes out when I told him you were just standing in the rain and barely saying anything.”

Steve didn’t think he had any tears left after last night, turns out he was wrong. They slide down his cheeks with no expression on his face. “Robin-”

“He thanked me for keeping you safe when he couldn’t. I’m worried about both of you, and I’m sorry, but I can’t let the both of you slip down the drain like this. I have to be his friend and yours, and I hope you won’t be upset with me because you’re my Sneezy, I can’t lose you, and-”

Steve sniffles for what feels like the millionth time. “I’m not mad at you, Robbie. Not at all. I’m just… really, really fucking sad right now. That’s all.”

Robin snuggles into his side on the couch, pushing the pile of shit down with her foot.

“Do you wanna watch Mystic Pizza and get day drunk?”

Steve cracks a tiny smile for the first time in twenty-four hours. “Absolutely.”

–

The plan, as of now, is to stay at Robin’s for the remaining two weeks before he has to pack up and go to Minnesota. Firstly, because he doesn’t really have anywhere else to go, and secondly because if Steve holes himself up in her tiny apartment above her art studio then he doesn’t have to go out in public and run the risk of seeing Eddie.

The day after their movie and wine afternoon, Steve stays in bed. His own pajamas are in a tote bag in the living room somewhere, but he honestly prefers Robin’s band camp t-shirt from high school. He doesn’t shift around much, just lays on his back and stares at the ceiling.

The issue is, he does this for three days.

Day one was filled with little check-ins from Robin in-between her working on her paintings downstairs in the studio. She offers him a canvas and the opportunity to fling paint at it to work out his feelings, and he turns it down with a nonchalant shrug.

By the middle of day two, she had to force-feed him peanut butter on toast.

“Steve,” she says, face set but not unkind, “you haven’t eaten anything in twenty four hours.”

He shrugs again, and Robin sighs.

“Have you even gotten up to pee?”

“Twice.”

She twists her mouth up and sets the plate of toast on the dresser, and Steve barely stops himself from audibly groaning when he hears the tap running. There’s nothing more he hates than being a bother.

“Robin, you don’t have to-”

“Yes I do,” she snaps, coming into the room with a Snoopy cup full of water, bendy straw and all. “Now sit the fuck up and eat this toast that I very lovingly just barely burned.”

Steve sighs like it’s the most inconvenient thing in the world to sit up, and multiple places in his back pop when he does. She shoves the cup of water into his hand and plops the toast plate into his lap.

“Eat.”

He takes a few bites of the toast, and he wolfs it down when he realizes how hungry he really is. He gulps down the water and lets out a truly gross burp that Robin flicks him in the arm for.

“Get up and at least brush your teeth, okay? I put your toothbrush next to mine.” She takes the plate to the sink and refills the cup before opening the bathroom door and very pointedly looking at it before he heaves a sigh and gets up.

Day three, she took a more… direct approach.

She bursts into the room and rips the covers off of him, rolling her eyes when he curls in on himself like a pill bug.

“You’re stinking up my room, Steven. Get the fuck up and shower or I’m calling Ms. Henderson and Joyce to come over here and mother you.”

He loves Claudia and Joyce, more than anything, but the idea of being cooed at and worried over is especially humiliating. Almost as humiliating as Robin yanking him out of bed by the ankles.

“Jesus Christ, Rob, I get it!” He’s halfway off the bed, his ass hanging off the edge. It’ll be a miracle if he doesn’t flop right onto the floor. Robin drops his feet and he does just that, landing half-sitting up right on his tailbone. He fixes Robin with a very unimpressed glare, his greasy hair sticking up everywhere. “Thank you so much for that, Robin, I really appreciate it,” he says from the floor.

She gives him her best, most dazzling smile. “You’re welcome! Your shower stuff is in the bathroom, don’t use my good towels.”

She doesn’t help him up, just starts stripping the sheets while trying her best not to make a sour face. He gets off the floor with a little effort, he landed in a weird spot, and trudges into the bathroom. Luckily Robin’s shower is easy to figure out, and he strips and steps in without even waiting for the water to warm up first. The cold jolts him, and he sticks his face into the spray to wake him up. It feels like he’s been asleep these last few days, sloughing through a nightmare he couldn’t wake up from.

The water warms up eventually, and it feels good as he scrubs himself as vigorously as he possibly can. Now that he’s out of the bed, it occurs to him just how gross it is to accumulate three days’ worth of sweat and not do anything about it. He does another pass over his body, and then gets to the most important part of every shower he takes. His hair.

He puts a few drops of a cleansing oil on his scalp, scrubbing it in with the tips of his fingers before rinsing it out, and then comes shampoo. He scrubs it in well, making sure to coat every strand of hair he can. Conditioner is next, and he lets that sit while he washes his face, then rinses it out. When he finally turns off the shower and dries himself off with a towel he deems as a ‘not good’ one, he feels brand new.

He looks in Robin’s medicine cabinet, and sure enough, there are a few of his haircare products. He smooths some leave-in conditioner through his hair and calls it good before wrapping the towel firmly around his waist and leaving the bathroom. The bedroom door is very much shut, and most likely locked. He steps further into the hallway and stops in his tracks when he hears Robin on the phone.

“Yeah, I think he just got out of the shower. Yes, Dustin, I know it’s four pm, we’re doing our best over here considering the circumstances.” A pause. “The circumstances being his fucking heart is broken, doofus! Now are you gonna tell the others, or do I have to play phone tag with children all afternoon?” Another pause. “I knew your big mouth would be good for something. I’ll call back tomorrow about the arcade, okay? Got it. Bye, Dusty!”

If Steve allowed himself more than two seconds to feel guilty about Robin running interference on his own breakup, he’d probably have another three-day catatonic meltdown. So he sucks it up and walks into the living room.

“There’s my fresh, clean boy! How do you feel?” Robin comes up to him and pinches his cheeks.

Steve rolls his eyes fondly at her. “Like a new man, Buckley. So, like, where are my clothes exactly? I’m assuming you don’t want my bare ass on your couch.”

Robin’s nose wrinkles up. “No, no I do not. There’s clothes in that green tote bag next to the couch, please let me avert my eyes before you bend over to get it.” She claps her hands over her eyes and Steve laughs before bending over to grab the bag.

He picks a plain blue t-shirt and a pair of jeans, as well as underwear obviously.

“You’re clear. I’m gonna change in the bathroom real quick, since I’m assuming you locked your bedroom door.”

Robin peeks out from behind her hands and then drops them. “That would be correct. You’re on a forty-eight hour bedroom ban, meaning you’re sleeping on the couch.” Sure enough, the couch has a sheet on it and two pillows.

“I suppose I did that to myself,” Steve says, wandering back toward the bathroom. He forgot to grab deodorant from his own bag, so he rolls on some of Robin’s and hopes she doesn’t notice. He quickly pulls on his clothes and goes back out into the living room. Robin takes one sniff of the air and she knows.

“Really, Steven? My lala lavender?”

Steve’s mouth flops open. “There is no way it’s actually called that.”

Robin snorts and rolls her eyes. “Companies treating women like idiots isn’t new, babe. What do you want for dinner?”

They order pizza, pineapple on one half because Steve thinks it’s an abomination, and eat on the couch while they come up with a plan. Tomorrow, they’ll go to Home Depot and get moving boxes and get to work on organizing all of Steve’s things. They’ll go through everything together, like they always do. Robin and Steve, the inseparable duo.

He catches himself thinking about Eddie, if he’s leaning on anyone right now or just going it alone. Has he spent the last three days in bed? Did he need to be dragged to the shower? Has he been drinking? What did he tell Wayne, if anything?

It’s all very overwhelming.

Steve sinks into the couch and tries to focus on Robin. Her happy face. The way she almost drops her pizza onto her lap, dunks it in too much ranch. He almost gets teary-eyed, again, when he thinks about how much they love each other.

“Thank you, Robbie.”

She looks at him with wide, sad eyes. “What for?”

He swallows. “For taking me in. Not judging me when I laid in your bed for three days. I don’t know, just… everything, I guess. You’re my best friend.”

Robin leans over and takes his hand, smiling at him. “You’re my best friend too, Sneezy. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

They finish their dinner and watch Golden Girls reruns until Steve passes out on the couch, warm with the feeling of being cared for.

–

Things get a little better, day by day.

They get the moving boxes all put together and start with the organizing of Steve’s stuff, one tote bag at a time. He tries to apologize for commandeering Robin’s entire apartment, basically, and she cuts him off with a light smack to the shoulder.

“I told you we were doing this together, dingus. My apartment’s been messier.”

By the time early afternoon rolls around, they’ve got about half of the clothes packed into boxes and Steve has picked out another week’s worth of clothes so he doesn’t pack away what he’ll want to wear for the trip. Which they still have to talk about.

“I just realized I don’t have, like… any furniture or anything. Like, at all.”

Robin’s eyes drift to the huge pile of clothes, random knick knacks, and not much else by way of importance. “Fuck.”

Steve nods sagely, eyes wide with impending panic. “Fuck is right.”

He watches Robin’s eyes dart around the room, formulating a plan.

“As soon as we get to Minnesota, we’re gonna have to hit some Goodwills or something. Wait! I think my mom has an old dresser. And didn’t Joyce say she has a lot of Hop’s old stuff from when they moved in together?”

Steve isn’t exactly fond of the idea of taking things from the women who’ve mothered him when his own mother fell short. “I don’t know, Rob.”

Robin takes a deep breath and grabs both of his hands, looking him directly in the eye. “Steven. My darling. My sweet baby angel who I love so mu-”

“I love you too, Robbie, now get to the point.”

She pinches his cheek, just because. “This is what poor people do, my friend. We save things just in case and then hand them down, and the cycle continues until said item literally disintegrates. It’s fine. I’m sure Joyce and Rhonda would be thrilled to give you all their old shit.”

“I just don’t want-”

“If you finish that sentence about being a ‘bother’ I will strangle you.”

Steve promptly shuts his mouth.

Later that evening, the phone rings while Robin’s making dinner and Steve picks it up.

“Technically the Buckley residence, Steve speaking.”

“STEVEN HARRINGTON WHAT IS GOING ON?”

Aah, yes. Dustin.

Steve heaves a great sigh. “A lot.”

He can almost hear Dustin’s eye roll over the phone. “That is nowhere near a sufficient answer.”

Steve scratches his head. He knows it’s not a sufficient answer, but when’s the last time he gave one of those? “I’m aware, Dustin, thank you.”

“You’re telling me my dads broke up and I don’t hear about it until four days later from my weird lesbian aunt?”

It’s odd, knowing Eddie didn’t tell him immediately. Dustin’s always been his favorite.

“I know, and I’m sorry. I was busy having the meltdown of the decade about it.”

Dustin sighs, clearly stressed. “Well stop having a meltdown and go to the arcade with me.”

“And by ‘go with you’ you mean pick your ass up, drive you there, get beat at all the games, buy the food after, and drop your ass back off at home?”

“Precisely.”

–

Steve picks Dustin up from his house the next day, and the kid looks genuinely thrilled to see him. Steve turns the car off and does one of those weird half-jogs up the driveway that always makes him feel awkward afterwards. Claudia comes out of the front door immediately, wrapping him up in a hug that smells of powdery perfume and cat food.

“Steve, sweetheart, how are you?”

‘Shitty, broke, boyfriendless’, he wants to say. He doesn't, though, doesn’t want to be sent back to Robin’s with a thousand tupperware containers of leftovers or something.

“I’m doing my best, considering. I actually wanted to ask you something, if that’s alright.”

She pulls back from him, her hands still on his shoulders. “Of course, sweetie, what’s going on?”

“Well, I’m moving to Minnesota in about a week, and uh… Eddie isn’t coming with me.”

She nods sagely. “Dusty told me, I’m so sorry, Steve.”

“I appreciate that. I’m still going up there and the thing is, I kind of don’t have anything I need? Like at all?” He suddenly feels incredibly stupid, his cheeks burning red. He really had put all of his eggs in an Eddie-shaped basket, and now he had nothing.

“Oh, sweetheart, come on down to the basement, I have plenty of things.”

Robin really wasn’t kidding about saving things just in case, apparently. The Henderson's basement is full of stuff, a bunch of relics from Dustin’s childhood that he’s incredibly annoyed to be looking at.

“We were supposed to be playing Pac-man by now, Steve.”

Steve eyes a set of knives that Claudia apparently got for cheap in a garage sale but never used. He sets them in the plastic tote she gave him to put anything he wanted in. “I know, bud, but I’m kind of broke and moving states away, so I need all the help I can get.”

A set of plates still in the box goes in the tote, right next to the knives. Dustin huffs and puts the matching glasses in there too. “Which is why I wanted to spend time with you somewhere besides my basement.”

Well, fuck.

Steve ruffles his hair like he used to do when Dustin was twelve, and feels his heart splinter.

“I’m sorry. I’ll make one last lap and then we’ll hit the road, okay?”

Dustin grumbles something under his breath and points out an old nightstand Steve could have.

The other kids meet them at the arcade when they do show up, and it’s nice to have them all in one place again. Lucas and Max look cozy again, which Steve is sure won’t last more than a few months. El’s hair is growing back out, almost down to her shoulders now, and Will looks genuinely happy. Steve’s just thrilled to see any look on that kid’s face that isn’t haunted. They all tackle him in a group hug and he pretends to be mildly annoyed by it, but he knows they all see right through it.

“Where have you been, sad-sack?” Max has a grin on her face that Steve loves seeing.

“Robin’s place, trying not to lose all my shit. C’mon, Dustybuns is demanding Pac-man.”

The kids all fan out as much as they can in the small arcade, Max heading for Dig-Dug as she usually does, with Lucas behind her looking lovesick as all hell. Will and El head for pinball, Mike tags along to watch, and Dustin-

Dustin is standing right next to Steve.

“It’s okay if you wanna go play games with your friends, Dustin. I’ll be here, I always am.”

Dustin’s shoulders tense right up. “In a week, you won’t be.”

Steve’s heart shatters into a million pieces for the millionth time in a week. “I know. You’re gonna be just fine, I promise.”

“What about you, Steve?”

It’s not the first time someone’s asked him this question lately.

“I’ll figure it out. Robin’s gonna stay with me for the first week, just to make sure, and I’ll call you as soon as I get there.”

Dustin points a finger at him. “You’d better. You’re gonna call me every week, no matter what. I don’t care if there’s an actual earthquake, you better fuckin’ call me.”

Steve almost admonishes him for the language, then thinks better of it. “I will. I’ll send letters too, if you want.”

Dustin nods, not saying anything else.

“I’m gonna miss you, Dustybuns.” Steve ruffles his hair again, and Dustin smacks his hand away this time, just like Steve knew he would.

“There’s product in here, dude!” He huffs, then continues. “I’m gonna miss you too, by the way. Even if you do need to be told everything.”

Steve just shakes his head at Dustin and leads him to the Pac-man game.

–

Steve goes to get the U-Haul two days before the trip so he has plenty of time to pack it up.

Robin made a big deal about him getting one of the bigger ones, and he isn’t sure why until he pulls it into the parking lot in the back of Robin’s apartment and she hops in, belting herself in.

“Robin, what the fresh hell-”

“Drive to Joyce’s, dingus.”

That sounds like Robin’s made a plan, and if it’s what he thinks it might be, he’s most definitely going to cry. “Robin, I swear to-”

“Drive.”

He drives. Robin’s quite scary when she wants to be and truthfully, he doesn’t like being on the business end of her death glare. Luckily, Joyce’s neighborhood doesn’t have a ton of twists and turns because he’s driving a true behemoth of a vehicle. He goes to pull into the driveway, but he can’t.

Because all the moms of the Party are in it, with all of their old things that they’re giving to Steve.

Robin smiles over at him, unlocking the doors and hopping out. Her mom, Rhonda, is in the driveway as well, standing next to the dresser Robin said she had. Steve tamps down his tears and gets out, walking on shaky legs into the driveway.

“Oh, honey,” says Joyce, immediately coming over to give him a hug. All the moms coo at him from their places in the driveway, and the tears threaten to spill over.

“You guys didn’t have to do this,” he says, voice crackly.

“Yes we did, sweetie. You’ve helped us take care of our kids, and now we want to help take care of you. Let us.” Joyce’s big brown eyes are so damn hard to say no to.

“Okay,” he whispers, and Joyce pats him on the back.

“Good. Pick out whatever you want, hon.”

They all smile at him; Joyce, Claudia, Rhonda, Mrs. Sinclair (he’s never had the nerve to call her Wanda like she insists), Mrs. Wheeler, and he’s about knocked on his ass when he sees Susan Mayfield standing next to a small crate of things. He goes to her first, pulling her into a hug while everyone else chats with each other.

“Susan, you don’t have to-”

“I know I don’t, but I want to. I know Max stayed with you for a bit while I was in rehab, and I just wanted to say thank you in person. Thank you, Steve. For keeping my baby safe while I had to take care of myself.”

The tears spill over now. “She’s practically my little sister, I love her. You raised one hell of a kid, Susan.”

She sniffles, looking down into the crate. “She did that all on her own, I’m afraid.” She looks back up at him and smiles, wiping his tears. “You’ll be just fine, Steve. So will we.”

Once his tears have dried a bit, he looks in the crate.

“It’s not much,” Susan says. “Just a couple of odds and ends, a lemon juicer I swore up and down I needed. If you end up not needing it, just give it away.”

There’s one item in the crate that catches his eye.

It’s a little brown teddy bear with a plaid bow around his neck, still plump with stuffing.

“That’s PJ, he was around when Max was a baby. I told her we were giving some things to you, and he went in the crate this morning.”

“Oh, Susan, she didn’t have to do that.”

Susan scratches PJ on the ear, smiling fondly at him. “PJ brought her a lot of comfort when she was little. She gets it from other places now.”

Steve knows exactly what she means. “Thank you for everything. For sharing your daughter with me, and for the lemon juicer.”

Susan pats him on the shoulder and puts the crate in the U-Haul, but places PJ in the front seat.

Rhonda does give him the old dresser that Robin was talking about, a nice dark wood tone and very sturdy. Claudia gives him a set of silverware, the nightstand Dustin pointed out, as well as a few kitchen utensils. Mrs. Sinclair has a coffee table and two end tables for him, and a couple of lamps. Mrs. Wheeler gives him-

“The basement couch? Mrs. Wheeler, are you sure?”

The boys were going to kill him.

“Yes I’m sure, Steve. We’re remodeling the basement in the fall anyhow, and you need it more than we do. The boys can sit in Mike’s room for the time being.”

Then Joyce opens the garage. Hopper gives Steve a short wave before Joyce helps him pick up a bed frame and put it in the back of the truck.

“It’s just a twin, but it’s something,” Joyce says as they slot it into place right next to the couch.

Hopper grabs the mattress and pops it on top of the frame, already in a cover. Joyce picks up a pack of navy blue sheets and places them in a tote box before closing it.

“Joyce,” Steve warns. “Those sheets look new.”

She grins conspiratorially. “Well, I figured you might not want the Elmo ones that were on it when it was Will’s.”

“No, I would not, you’re right.” Steve smiles and pulls her into another hug. “Thank you, Joyce. I love you.”

“Oh, sweetie, I love you too.” She hugs him tight, making his back crack, and then lets go, swiping her thumbs over his cheeks.

“Don’t you go isolating yourself out there, okay? If you have any problems whatsoever, you call.”

Steve tries not to cry, his tear ducts have been through enough. “I’ll call so much, you’ll be sick of me.”

“Never,” says Joyce.

All the other moms come over and envelop him in the most perfumey group hug he’s ever had, and it’s a struggle to keep himself from breaking down. He never had a mother, not really, and now he has six.

“We’re gonna miss you something terrible, Steve. But you’re gonna do so well. Those kids will love you just like we do.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Sinclair. Thank you so much, all of you. Thank you for being my moms.”

He doesn’t want to cry, he’s spent a huge majority of his time lately either sobbing horribly or letting tears slip out catatonically. But when he looks up at all the women around him, ready and willing to love him exactly how he is, he lets it happen.

–

The drive to Minneapolis from Hawkins is about ten hours, so they’re trying to set off around six AM. But of course, Robin’s alarm clock didn’t go off, and Steve’s mountain of toiletries still needs to be packed, and the key to his and Eddie’s apartment is still dangling from his keychain, branding a hole into his skin.

“Please don’t make me drop this off, Robin, especially not at the ass crack of dawn. He already hates me, I don’t need to make it worse.”

Robin spits a glob of toothpaste foam into the sink and rolls her eyes. “I’m sure he doesn’t hate you. The first thing he asked me was if you were okay when I showed up to get your shit, remember?”

Of course Steve remembers. Everything Robin said about the state of mind Eddie was in is carved into his brain.

“Yeah, I know that, but it’s been days. Maybe he hates me now.”

A very large part of Steve desperately hopes Eddie hates him. He hopes Eddie’s burning all the pictures of him, whatever clothes Robin might’ve left behind. He hopes Eddie has a wild series of hookups and forgets Steve ever existed. He just wants to make it easier for him, and blind hatred is so much better than what Steve knows he caused. A deep, rippling hurt that’s likely going to change the way they both operate on a fundamental level.

“He doesn’t hate you, Steve, but I’ll spare you just this once and return it once I get back. Leave it on the kitchen counter.”

Steve sighs with relief and takes it off of the key ring, slapping it onto the kitchen counter. Another band-aid ripped off too early.

They’re leaving right from Robin’s place, and Steve peeks out the window to see if anyone’s in the parking lot to see them off. He sees Joyce’s car, her and her boys gripping thermoses of hot chocolate even though it’s late August. They all run cold in that house, Steve knows. With them are El and Hopper, standing close together. He watches as Mrs. Sinclair pulls in, Erica and Lucas hopping out of the car and talking to El and Will. Mrs. Wheeler pulls up with her kids in tow, even Holly. Steve’s heart still skips a beat when he sees Nancy, but for a different reason now.

She’s just so fucking cool. She’s the best shot in Hawkins, a journalist, and still manages to do it all while looking incredible. Now that they’ve worked out how to be friends, Steve can appreciate her as a person so much better.

Claudia isn’t far behind the Wheelers, and Dustin leaps out of the car to crush Lucas in a hug. Susan pulls into a space and stands reluctantly next to the other moms. They all greet her happily, making space for her to stand with them and Steve’s heart goes all melty.

Everyone he loves is here. Except for one person.

“C’mon, Robbie, half the fuckin’ town is waiting!”

Robin pops up next to him, backpack full of snacks and a map on her shoulder. “Our weird little family is basically half the town, you’re right. You ready?”

He gives her a wobbly smile. He’s trying so hard to be brave, and he isn’t sure it’s working. “I think so?”

She takes his hand, her free one on the doorknob. “Come on, dingus. We’ve got ground to cover.”

They step out onto the landing and everyone starts cheering like they’re about to meet Whitney Houston or something.

“Thank you, thank you, it’s so nice to meet my fans!”

Steve is gonna give Robin so many bouquets of flowers for always taking the focus off of him when he needs it the most. They all laugh at her goofiness, and as soon as they’re off the stairs and on the pavement of the parking lot, everyone groups around Steve in a suffocating dogpile of a hug. It lasts for a minute or two before one the moms, he thinks Mrs. Wheeler, tells the kids to let him breathe.

He’s already wiping at his eyes, despite not having said anything at all.

It’s just… these are his kids. When it came down to it and they needed a protector, Steve was there. When they nearly lost their lives time and time again, Steve made sure they didn’t. It built into so much more than being a human shield. He was there when Mike had his heart broken, and there when he told everyone he and Will ‘finally got their shit together.’ He was there when they graduated high school, standing next to their parents and cheering the loudest. He wore a t-shirt with Dustin’s face on it when his debate team went to states. He took Max in when she needed it the most.

These are his kids, and he has to leave them behind, and it’s shredding his heart into little tiny pieces. El, always the clever one, says, “we will be okay, Steve.”

He sniffles, trying to keep it together. “I know.”

“Hey,” says Hopper, gruff from the sidelines, next to Joyce as always. “If anything happens, you’ll be the first to know, and I’ll be the one to put myself between danger and our kids. Alright?”

Steve nods, oddly comforted. He’ll miss all the everyday things terribly of course, but that was his main worry. If the kids needed a shield again, who would do it? They’d argue that they’re eighteen now, they can fight for themselves, but Steve wouldn’t hear it and throw himself into the fire time and time again if it meant they were safe.

It’s nice to know someone has the shield’s back as well.

“Don’t worry about all that, honey. Just go, be yourself. Everyone’s gonna love you.”

Steve goes over to hug Joyce and gets his back cracked again, and he loves it. He takes a turn hugging every single person goodbye, and then he gets to Dustin. He’s standing next to his mom, hair under his baseball cap like always. Steve plops his hand on top of the cap and wiggles his head around with a sad smile.

“You’re the first one I’ll call when I get there, remember? You’ll be hearing from me in about eleven hours, give or take.”

Dustin nods, shoulders tight.

“Hey. Hey, kid, look at me.”

Dustin looks up at him with the same wide, glassy eyes he’s had since he was twelve years old. Steve resists the urge to swipe over his cheeks and wipe the tears that haven’t fallen yet.

“I love you, dude. One of us could move to Antarctica and we’d still be best friends.”

A shred of normalcy returns and Dustin rolls his eyes at Steve. “Antarctica is uninhabitable, Steve.”

Steve’s face breaks out into a smile, despite being corrected on yet another scientific fact. “I know.” He didn’t, but it doesn’t matter now. “You’re still my Dustybuns, even from Minnesota.”

Dustin lurches forward and tips his head into Steve’s chest, wrapping his arms around his middle even though he’s almost up to Steve’s shoulders now. “I’m gonna miss you.”

“I’m gonna miss you too, buddy. I’ll call every week, okay? You’ll get sick of me calling so much.”

Robin softly places her hand on his shoulder, and Steve knows it’s time to go. He still waits until Dustin pulls away first, his shirt slightly damp where Dustin’s head was pressed into his chest.

“You’re the first I’ll call, no matter what. I love you, Dustin.”

“I love you, Steve. Don’t forget about me out there.”

“Never.” Steve gives him another squeeze for good measure, and with a wipe of his tears and a wave to the family he never dreamed he’d have, he and Robin get into the U-Haul and pull away.

–

Ten hours is one long drive, Steve finds out.

He and Robin plow through the snacks by hour four, so they have to make a stop for more, and to fill the U-Haul. They stop for lunch mid-way through Illinois, sitting in a random McDonald’s looking absolutely ridiculous in the pajamas they started their journey in. They stop in Wisconsin for cheese curds, obviously, and Robin makes him take pictures of her next to a giant cheese statue. They sing along to the radio and play I-spy, and it almost slips Steve’s mind who he’s supposed to be making this trip with.

“Stop thinking about him so loud, I can hear it.” Robin moves to take one of his hands, and Steve smacks it away.

“Ten and two, Buckley.”

She rolls her eyes at him. “I’ve had my license since ‘87, Steven. I think I can hold my best friend’s hand if I want to.”

Steve allows it, but only because he genuinely is kind of sad. He loves Robin with all his heart, and he’s incredibly grateful she’s doing this with him. He couldn’t begin to think what this would be like alone. He still can’t help but wonder what the trip would be like with Eddie.

They’d probably be listening to much different music, weaving in and out of traffic because he drives like a bat out of hell. His hand would take its usual resting spot on Steve’s thigh when they switched drivers, and he’d demand a snack tax on everything Steve opened. Steve finds himself missing something he’ll never have.

“You’ll both be okay eventually, Steve. It’ll just take some time, is all.”

Steve nods, and tries his hardest to believe her.

They switch drivers again once they’re about halfway through Wisconsin, since Minneapolis isn’t far from the state border. His apartment complex isn’t in the super busy section of Minneapolis, he couldn’t afford to be in the city center on intern pay, so he watches in awe as the big city passes them by in the U-Haul. He can see himself visiting the different stores on a day off, window shopping with a coffee in his hand.

Steve takes a second to revel in the shred of hope.

He sees the apartment complex coming up, and it looks… decent. The large brick building could definitely use some TLC on the exterior, the window frames have chipped paint and the steps up to the front door look a bit saggy, but it’s got good bones. He thinks.

They park the U-Haul and Steve goes to get his keys from the landlord while Robin stretches out.

He steps into the lobby, and there’s a small sign that says ‘Rent Office’ that points to a poorly-lit hallway, and Steve tries his hardest to ignore the prickling feeling it brings him. Bad lighting is never a good sign. He knocks on the office door and it’s wrenched by a short middle aged woman wearing leopard print and purple lipstick.

Interesting.

“Um, hi, I’m Steve Harrington, I’m supposed to be moving in today?”

“Apartment number?”

She sounds like she’s from Jersey, which throws him off. Steve stutters. “Uh-um, 312.”

“Got it.” The woman goes over to a locked filing cabinet and yanks a file labeled “S.HARR.” out of it, dropping the key into his hand. “Have a good day, sonny.”

She sits back down at the desk, apparently being interrupted in the middle of a crossword puzzle.

“Thank you, ma’am,” Steve says, and closes the door behind him.

–

“Why do you have so much shit?” Robin whines, dropping a stack of boxes onto the ugly yellow linoleum in the kitchen.

The apartment looks exactly like the pictures he was sent, kind of ugly but doable, just like the whole building. The appliances are a dingy off-white, and he’s pretty sure there’s a dead fly embedded into the paint in the living room. The landlord special.

“Because… I don’t know, Robin, jeez.” His back is starting to hurt and they haven’t even gotten to the heavy shit yet. Speaking of which.

“All we have to do is get the mattress up here, and then we’re ordering Chinese.”

Robin heaves a sigh, and so does Steve. He does have something to do first, though.

“Water break, I gotta call Dustin.”

Robin nods and takes a long swig from her water bottle before plopping down criss-cross applesauce on the kitchen floor.

Steve goes to the phone and dials one of three numbers he knows by heart.

“Steve?”

He smiles, happy to hear that Dustin was waiting by the phone. “That’s me.”

“That was longer than eleven hours!”

Steve checks his watch, and sure enough, it’s around eight o’clock.

“Well we had to stop and get gas and go to the bathroom and stuff. We had cheese curds in Wisconsin.”

“You’re telling me the most interesting thing about moving your entire life ten hours away was eating cheese curds in Wisconsin?”

Steve can feel Dustin’s sarcasm, even just through the phone.

“Wisconsin is like, the cheese state. They’re known for their cheese, and it was delicious.”

“Doesn’t cheese bind you up?”

Steve smacks his hand against his forehead. “Jesus Christ, Henderson.”

“I’m just saying!”

“Please direct your concern somewhere other than my bowels, Dustin.”

Dustin makes a grossed-out sound. “Don’t say bowels.”

“Don’t talk about my bowels, then.”

There’s a pause, and it makes Steve wish they were having this conversation in person. He wishes he could see Dustin’s expressive face when he admonishes Steve for daring to say ‘bowels.’

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Dustin says, quiet and tinny over the line.

“I’m alright, Dustin.”

“You’ll call me if you aren’t?” The question holds more than its face-value concern for Steve’s well being.

It says please don’t forget me. Please don’t leave me behind.

“You’ll be the first to know if I clip my toenails, Henderson. Don’t worry.”

Dustin sighs like he’s relieved and Steve squeezes his eyes shut against the feeling that he’s abandoning his baby brother.

“Are you unpacking right now?”

Steve nods even though Dustin can’t see him. “Yeah, we got most of the boxes up here, but we have to at least get the mattress up before we call it a night.” He doesn’t want to say goodbye.

“I’ll let you get back to it, I guess.”

Steve sighs. “I guess so. Have a good night, okay?”

He hears Dustin’s hair rustling against the receiver as he nods. “I will. Goodnight, Steve.”

“Goodnight, buddy.” Steve waits until Dustin hangs up first before sliding the phone back onto the hook.

Robin gives him a quick hug before grabbing the keys to the U-Haul and dragging him back down the stairs to get the mattress.

–

“Put your goddamn back into it, Harrington!”

Steve is sweating something fierce, dripping down his back and neck and seeping through his clothes. “I fucking am, Buckley! Jesus Christ!”

They’ve gotten the mattress up two flights of stairs so far, but not without significant amounts of argument. Robin says it needs to go left, Steve thinks it needs to go right, it’s the tail end of summer and still sweltering hot, and Steve has had just about enough.

“We only have a few more steps to go before we’re in the hallway.”

Robin huffs through her nose. “I’m going to murder you if you try to be Mr. fucking cheerful right now.”

Well, alright then.

“Fine. Now lift.”

They get the mattress in the apartment successfully, arguments aside, and as soon as it flops onto the living room floor, they both flop onto it. They’re all tangled up in a puddle of limbs, since they’re two grown adults on a twin mattress, but they both breathe sighs of relief.

“Why couldn’t we have brought El? She could’ve just floated this shit up here.”

Steve shrugs. “The government or something? I don’t know.”

“Fuck the government,” they both say at the same time, and break into a fit of giggles.

Steve keeps his promise and orders Chinese, and they share crab rangoon in bed while they talk. They’re both exhausted, barely keeping their eyes open while they chat idly to each other, and it’s Robin who breaks the moment in favor of sleep.

“I’ll put this stuff in the fridge, go take a shower.”

Steve nods and smacks a kiss onto her temple, getting up and going into the bathroom. He had packed a travel bag in case they couldn’t make the drive in one day and had to stop somewhere, and he’s grateful he did. He doesn’t have to dig around in any boxes to look for his shower gel or his shampoo. The shower warms up decently quickly, and when Steve steps in, he realizes the wall-mounted phone is just on the other side of the shower. He can hear Robin talking, he just isn’t sure who she’s talking to.

“We’re alright, the drive was fine. Actually, Chicago was a nightmare but whatever. Yes, I know I promised I’d call earlier, but I just now got a second to myself. No, he’s in the shower.”

Hmm. It can’t be her mom, Steve knows she wouldn’t keep that conversation from him.

“We’re going to bed soon, Eddie, I promise.”

Oh.

Steve quietly thumps his head against the wall, staring at the tile. He wonders if Eddie made Robin promise to call when they reached Minneapolis, or if she told him she would on her own volition. It was most likely the first option. Of course Eddie, who had a need to take care of everyone who crossed his path, was asking Robin when they were going to get some sleep.

Steve’s heart hurts.

“He’s… putting on a brave face, I think. Not pretending to be okay, necessarily, just covering the hurt. Of course he’s hurting, Eddie, he loves you.”

She didn’t put ‘love’ in past tense, and it feels like a swift kick in the gut. He’ll always love Eddie, he’s known that since he was nineteen years old.

“I know you do, Eds. Listen, I should probably go, but I’ll try to call you before I leave, and we can talk when I get back, okay? Okay. Take care of yourself, please. Love you too, goodnight.”

Steve hears the phone slot back onto the hook, and he lets himself cry where he knows he won’t be heard.

–

His first week in Minnesota flies by.

Between getting his gifted furniture set up, unpacking boxes, and dicking around with Robin in the city center when they have time, he forgets what day it is until Robin asks him to take her to the train station in two days.

“You’re leaving? Already?”

She nods, leaning against his shoulder. “It’s been a week, Stevie. I think you’re doing just fine, and most of your stuff is unpacked. You even made breakfast without burning down your kitchen.”

He skips over the fact that he’s been cooking for himself since he was thirteen and focuses on the idea of her leaving. Going back to Indiana and leaving him on his own.

He fucking hates it.

“I don’t want you to go,” he says quietly. He hates admitting he needs anything at all, much less needs Robin to stay so he doesn’t fall apart.

Robin strokes his hair, just like Eddie used to do, and his heart cracks apart in the early afternoon quiet of his apartment. “I know, Steeby-deeby. But you’ll be alright. Everyone’s gonna love you just like I do.”

Steve shakes his head. No one could love him like Robin does. She’s his cosmic twin, his platonic soulmate with the most capital of P’s. He’ll never find anyone like her ever again and he knows it. He tells her as much and she lets a singular tear slip out of her eye before wiping it away and collecting herself. She’s trying to be strong for him, Steve can tell. Her face is strung up tight, lips in a line.

“It’s okay to miss me, Robbie. We both know we’re gonna be a mess, it’s okay.”

That’s all the permission she needed, apparently, falling into his chest and crying like Steve was terminal.

“I’m gonna miss you so much, Steve. What am I gonna do?”

He has no idea, honestly. If he and Eddie hadn’t gotten a place together, he would’ve gotten an apartment with her. Fate is a tricky thing most of the time; Steve believes in it and then doesn’t, wants to be the one in charge of his life after being harshly controlled and then set adrift by his parents. But he knows he and Robin were fated to find each other somehow. Whenever he does cross over to whatever life comes next, he’ll find her again.

“You’re gonna paint. You’ll find a girl who deserves you and sell paintings of her face in your cool as shit abstract style. You’ll cook dinner, and talk to our friends, and you’ll send me letters with all the hot gossip; if Lucas and Max get their shit together and all that teenage shit. And I’ll call you every week. Every day, if you want.”

She nods into his chest, likely smearing mascara everywhere. “You’d better. I want a verbal essay on my metaphorical desk every single Monday, Steve.”

He cracks a smile, despite the sadness. “You’ll get one, Robs, I promise.”

They detach from each other eventually, the late summer sun going down and casting the apartment in an orange glow.

“You know this means we have to put your bed on the frame, right?”

Steve groans at the reminder and nudges her over. “Might as well do it now. C’mon, up we get, Buckshot.”

They haul the mattress into the bedroom, slotting it onto the frame and putting the sheets on it. It wasn’t horrible, a little lumpy, sure, but nothing Steve couldn’t stand. He and Robin have been sleeping curled up together like parentheses for the last week, and he dreaded waking up cold instead of warm and cozy.

He takes her to the train station in the Beemer two days later, both of them sniffling. The backpack she’d managed to fit a whole week’s worth of clothes into sits underneath their joined hands while he drives, the radio playing softly. They get out of the car silently after Steve parks. He picked a spot far from the building just so he’d have more time with her. He opens the door for her and stands with her in the ticket line, so close to each other they might as well be one person.

She gets her one-way ticket to Indianapolis, and he tries not to be devastated when he can’t go any further than the security turnstile. She turns to him and crushes him in a hug, squeezing around his middle so hard it hurts, but he doesn’t care. He’s gonna miss her like crazy, if she wants to crush him instead of hug him, that was okay.

“You’ll call me when you get back?” Steve asks, his chin on her head.

She nods into his chest, and he only draws back a small amount so he can wipe her tears away.

“We’re gonna be okay, Robbie.”

“You promise?” Her croaky voice is cracking with tears, and Steve wants to whisk her back to the safety of the car and go home. But he can’t. He made his choices, and now he has to face them. Alone.

“I promise. Don’t be late.”

She nods again, a fresh batch of tears rolling down her face as Steve kisses her forehead. She hugs him again, another bone-crushing embrace that he’ll miss sorely as soon as it’s over, and then walks backwards to the turnstile, bumping into several people on the way.

Steve waves to her the whole way, and when she’s finally through security, he keeps waving until she’s out of sight.

–

Going back to the apartment alone is worse than Steve thought it would be.

He’s become used to swanning around with Robin, getting his record player set up and dancing while they make dinner, but now it just feels… cold. Unsettling. The quiet is a lot less easy when it’s just him to live in it.

He turns on Bruce Springsteen at a low volume, just to take the edge off, and he’s reminded that there’s a few things he hasn’t unpacked yet. A small plastic bag that’s been in the backpack he brought to Robin’s apartment is still in there, chock full of the Polaroids he took that were pinned to his and Eddie’s corkboard.

He swallows, and takes a moment to look through all of them before deciding where they should go. Most of them will go on the fridge; him and Robin in their Scoops uniforms, Dustin on Halloween, the whole Party arguing over a game of Monopoly. There’s only one that he wants taped to the mirror in the bedroom.

It’s him and Eddie, fresh out of the lake in the summer of ‘86. Eddie was laughing, wet hair slung over his shoulder with an open-mouthed grin at the camera someone, probably Dustin, was shoving in their faces. Steve was just looking at Eddie. Lovesick, eyes gone soft and gooey, his own wet hair sticking to his head in a way he would’ve hated had he not been completely focused on Eddie’s sweet face.

Steve hangs the photo on the mirror with shaking hands, and hopes that one day, somewhere far down the road, they can come back to each other.