Chapter Text
Steve drove around the corner. He lived around the corner from Jonathan Byers his whole life, and he’d never been to the house. There weren’t a lot of other houses on the block so it was easy to figure out which place was Jonathan’s. The Ford Galaxie in the driveway was a dead giveaway too.
Steve got out of the car and paced back and forth for a minute. How do you apologize to a guy for accusing him of having an affair with your girlfriend, throwing his brother’s tragic death in his face, and calling him queer? There sure as fuck weren’t any greeting cards for that. On top of it, there was nothing stopping Byers from rocking his shit again. He didn’t need another concussion to match the last one Jonathan had given him the day earlier.
Eventually, he took a deep breath and walked up to the door. He knocked, incessantly. He was afraid he’d wuss out if he let there be silence. “Jonathan. Jonathan! Are you there, man? I just want to talk!”
The door opened, and Steve felt relief for just a moment. Nancy was standing in front of him. Why the fuck was Nancy there?
“Nancy– Nancy? I wanted to apologize. I messed up and–” his eyes zeroed in on her hand. She had it wrapped with gauze. Forget apologizing. What the fuck did Jonathan Byers do to her? “What happened to your hand?”
He pushed past her into the house and nothing could have possibly prepared him for what he saw. The house was covered in Christmas lights. He wished that was where the chaos stopped and started. There were weapons everywhere. Guns, gasoline, a knife with blood on it, and a fucking bear trap. Holy fuck. Maybe Byers really did kill the kid.
The next thing he knew, Byers was gripping the collar of his shirt. Steve couldn’t even register what he was saying because Nancy was pointing a fucking revolver in his face. And then, the lights began to flicker.
Jonathan and Nancy had both all but forgotten he was there as they were looking frantically around the room. Then the ceiling opened up. Steve could hardly even process what he was seeing. There was a human-ish… monster falling through the ceiling. Steve didn’t even think it had a face.
He couldn’t get a better look at it because Jonathan grabbed his hand, and led him down the hall into one of the bedrooms. It was like he didn’t know which way was up. Jonathan and Nancy were just watching the doorknob and waiting for the yoyo to move. Nothing happened. There wasn’t any movement.
He wasn’t sure how much time passed in that room. Their eyes were glued to the stupid yoyo, waiting for it to do something. It never did. Maybe it was over. They could get out, call for help, get someplace safe.
After what felt like an eternity, Byers decided to go investigate. He grabbed the bat that had nails sticking out of it and began to peer out in the hall. Nancy immediately followed suit. Steve wanted to stay in the room. It was safe there. At least for now. The idea of being alone in there though, that was worse.
He followed closely behind them. The house was a wreck. But there was no monster in sight. Steve immediately grabbed for the phone. He wasn’t even thinking. They just needed help.
Nancy grabbed the phone right out of his hands and tossed it aside. “It’s going to come back, so you need to leave, right now!”
He didn’t need to be told twice. He raced out to the car, not sure why Byers and Nancy weren’t close behind him. It didn’t matter. Steve Harrington was a lot of things, but he did not have a death wish. Just as he was about to get in the car. The lights in the house began to flicker.
His heart dropped. No.
He may not have had a death wish, but he didn’t want them to die either. His feet were glued to that spot as he watched the lights continue to go haywire. Part of Steve was willing himself to get in the car, the other part urging him to go inside.
Steve wasn’t sure what took over him when his feet began to move and he charged into the house. From that moment it was like he was acting purely on instinct. He grabbed the bat and just started swinging. He was suddenly grateful for all those tearful weekends and evenings spent at the batting cages with his impossible-to-please father. Without it, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to do nearly enough damage to get the thing in the trap.
Byers tossed the lighter and the monster went up in flames. It was gone as quickly as it had arrived. It was almost as if it was never there, to begin with.