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Summary
Steve hated it. He hated every fraction of every moment. As dumb as it was, he kinda fucking loved the Camaro. He didn’t want to ruin the car. He could feel it in his bones as he watched the hood of the Toddfather crumple against the passenger door. The horrible sound it made echoed through his ribs and against his spine, tearing at his ears painfully.
He could see the indentation left behind, a concave divot in the metal. It was like a piece was scooped out, hollow to match the gaping hole it left in Steve’s heart to see the wreckage.
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Steve has a lot of memories tied to the Camaro. He slams a convertible into it to save Nancy, Jonathan, and the kids and he can see the memories fly past him in slow motion.