Chapter Text
There’s no instruction manual for surviving in a post-apocalyptic world.
It's probably because people are not expected to make it out of an apocalypse alive enough to need one. The word ‘apocalypse’ by its very definition alludes to a complete and final destruction no one can survive. It does not speak of life finding a way or going against all odds to stop horrible disasters from occurring. No, it points to an ending — a damning, bleak, and unsurmountable ending for all involved.
Even apocalyptic movies, for all the hope of a brighter future they bring to their audiences, leave a lot to be desired regarding what happens next. Most of their endings require their leading characters to leave their home worlds to survive, to move on as wounded strangers in a foreign land. They do this among creatures who have no idea what they went through and why they did what they did in the past, just that they survived, and audiences all clap along accepting they've finally reached their 'happy ending.'
They survived, after all. That was what everyone wanted! The rest can be sorted out later, after the screen fades to black and the final battles all become distant memories. Enjoying the relief of their characters being alive is more important than dealing with the grittier, darker details of what its aftermath means for them, anyway.
Steve Harrington had once loved those kinds of movies.
He didn’t stumble upon them often, too busy with baseball or basketball or a pretty date to sit for a full show. When he did though, they captivated him. They showed him a world in which even the most dire of circumstances could eventually work themselves out in the end. Happy endings could exist for anyone. As a boy who felt rather smothered by an oppressive father and the weight of expectations on him going into high school, it was a comforting concept. It was also incredibly naive.
Steve stopped being naive in November of 1983.
There was no ‘fade to black’ option when he found out Barb was dead. There was no ignoring and waiting for everything to sort itself out when fighting a demogorgon in Jonathan Byers’ living room. It’s one thing to think everything will be okay when the monsters are on the screen and the threat is being contained or minimalized. It’s another to stare hell in the eye. To feel hope disappear. To be lucky to come out alive.
The remaining shreds of his naiveté melted away in the years of hell that followed. In 1984, no one was there to save him when he was all that stood between the kids and a pack of bloodthirsty demodogs. No one came out and yelled ‘gotcha’ in between laughter when he laid bloodied and bruised on the floor of some underground Russian facility. By the time ’86 came around and he was faced with not only his own imminent death, but that of everyone around him and possibly the world, Steve was done hoping for miracles or happy endings. He had fully accepted that that was the end for him and braced for the final curtain call, the unhappy ending, with open arms as Nancy took her first shot at Vecna's 'sleeping' body. Only, it never came.
They beat Vecna. The fucker was torched in a fiery inferno of his own making and crumbled into nothing. Max, despite probably never being able to see well again, opened her eyes and took a breath on Lucas' watch. Eddie, despite being torn to shreds by demobats and forced to endure unspeakable horror, was saved in the nick of time by Nancy's first-aid knowledge and Steve's horror-induced super strength as they fled the remnants of the Upside Down. Soon after, while still lying in bed in a coma, he was further saved by all the charges against him dropping and the government leaving Hawkins for good. Everything was setting up to let life fall back to normal. They had been granted the chance for life to return back to normal.
For many, this was a godsend. The average citizen of Hawkins had been swept up in this mess unwillingly, convinced the world was ending due to cataclysmic natural events. They welcomed the government’s declaration that all was safe again with open arms and were happy to return to their daily monotony, because it was comfortable. They gladly would pretend like it was all some bad dream and go back to get back that comfort.
For those like Steve, though, who had known the full truth since day one and fought for the future they received, a return to normal felt like a slap in the face.
Robin explained the feeling as like when folks dump off a puppy on the side of the road. The jerks who do so often are quoted saying they didn’t wish any ill on the pet, they just wanted a life better than the one they could give them. A normal life. The thing is though, the second the pup was dropped off, they had no concept of ‘normal’ to take with them. All they had known to be normal was gone, leaving them raw, vulnerable, and confused. Even if they were given a new home by someone who drove by, they’d still be starting from scratch.
The same was true for the party. Their normality had been stripped back in ’83 and violently ripped away again in ’86. Being told to just acclimate and go back to what they were doing before all of that was a cruel joke. As if they could ever after what they had seen and learned about their so-called blue-collar, happy little town. All had witnessed death. All had experienced some form of loss and had the scars, mental and physical, to prove it. They could never go back to who they were before even if they wanted to.
But, according to the government, they had to try. So, Steve went back to Family Video.
It was pathetic really, the more he thought about it. He had just helped save the world from complete and utter destruction by an inter-dimensional being, and yet instead of finding a cooler, higher-paying job or getting to retire in peace, he was trekking back to his stupid service job dealing movies. The shitty thing was, though, that that job was the only ‘normal’ he had to fall back on. What else was he going to do — go try and get a job from his parents who hadn’t called him in well over a year? Start a business in the ashes of Starcourt? Beg the police to give him Hopper’s old job before they realized he was still alive? He’d rather walk back into the Upside Down and guide the bats to eat him himself.
Keith accepted him and Robin back to their position with open arms. Perhaps it was because he felt sorry for them, or maybe he felt grateful now that it was no longer a secret who had kept Hawkins safe. Perhaps it was because no one else wanted to waste their second lease on life selling movie rentals. Either way, he barely put up a quarter of the fight he did the first time around when he welcomed them back in. Steve couldn't be bothered to offer up such pleasantries, but it was okay. He was okay.
Four months after the battle, he's not sure if he is okay anymore. He's still shelving videos at the store like the good employee he is. It's a tedious task, but it's also uneventful, and though it makes him sick to think about doing forever, he has come to see the beauty in the mindlessness of it all. It's a lot easier to swallow his new reality when otherwise occupied with alphabetical order and what titles are missing from their collection. On this day, however, he finds himself needing more. He needs something that doesn’t make him feel like so much of a failure, something that tells him he isn’t crazy for feeling disconnected from reality still after all this time.
As if hearing his pleas, the universe sends him Robin waving her hand wildly in front of his face.
“Hello, Earth to hair! Were you even listening to me just then?”
No, no he was not. Not even remotely.
Flushing, he shelves the next title in his hand — some old Elvis movie. The guy peers back at him almost in judgment as he’s surrounded by girls, hair-to-hair, once-king to once-king. Steve flips it around, breaking the connection before it makes him spiral further to give his friend an apologetic smile.
“Sorry, Robs. I think I zoned out a bit there.”
“A bit, he says,” she huffs, unimpressed. She shifts to lean against his cart. “Look, I was just saying that I finally heard back from UConn last night. They sent some fancy envelope and everything with the cutest little husky on it. That has to be a good sign, right? I think so. I mean, they wouldn’t just send me something adorable like that on a rejection letter. That would be cruel. Right? You'd think that would be cruel?”
Robin had first mentioned applying to UConn a month after Vecna. It had been, unlike most things in their post-Vecna world, something she had wished to do for a while before the battle but never held the confidence to go through with or even speak up about. Something about nearly dying, coupled with a distant relative being an alumni, had given her the extra push she needed to take the leap and apply. Steve has a lot of thoughts about her applying. Most of them are selfish little gremlins that feed off of his fear of abandonment and failure and beg him to be a horrible friend, to ask her to ignore her dreams and stay so he doesn’t feel so alone. They’re the type of horrible voices he tries his best to shove down and ignore when he meets Robin’s eyes again. Forcing another smile, he shelves their comments with the shelving of another tape — Elvis’ Blue Hawaii.
“I think it would be stupid for them not to accept you,” he replies with as much earnestness as he can muster. “You’re like, wickedly smart. But, I also think we won’t know the verdict until you open the letter. Which you should do, by the way. Like, soon.”
“What, like here? Now?” Robin makes a disgusted noise deep down in her throat. “I think I’d rather combust into a million tiny pieces than experience rejection somewhere as soul-crushing as this place. Hard pass.”
“Well, where would you rather open it then?”
“A cave where no one can see me, preferably.”
“That’s lame.”
“Steeeeeve,” she whines, stomping her foot. He watches her pout with a distinct fondness he thinks might be reserved just for her in his heart — the compartment that cherishes her company and antics all the same — and finds it hard to fight off a smile. That is, until the voices drizzle a gentle reminder over him that it may be one of the last times he gets to see his best friend throw a banter-filled fit like this for a while. Then, he only feels blue. Sulky. Nostalgic for a moment that has not yet passed.
Robin stomps again, recapturing his attention.
“Steve!”
“Okay, okay. Jeesh, you’re demanding today.”
“This is a demanding scenario that determines the entire course of the rest of my life, Steve. Forgive me if I’m a little less than patient.”
“Why don’t you just open it at home?” he suggests, shrugging off her — and his own — panic. “No one will bother you there if you just do it in, like, your bedroom or something.”
Robin pauses, only to shake her head with a firm no. “Not doing this alone.”
“I could open it with you?”
“You have gone through enough traumatic experiences with me for a lifetime, Steve,” she assures. “You don’t have to do that.”
“You say that as if you know it’s going to be traumatic.”
“Because it will be!”
Sighing, Steve puts aside his remaining movie stack and grabs Robin by the shoulders. Her eyes try to look anywhere else as he does, but he waits. And waits. And waits. He waits until silence grows so uncomfortable for Robin and her fidgeting nerves that she finally caves and looks him in the eye, grumbling and frustrated.
“I hate you.”
“I know.”
“Like, a lot.”
“I know. And you’re gonna hate me a lot more while you open that letter, ‘cause I’m about to be so obnoxious when you get in.”
“Steve.”
“I’m talking flashing lights and sirens,” he teases through a toothy grin, shaking her slightly back and forth. “Maybe a marching band. You think you have enough connections to get Hawkins High’s back together for a one-time show? Or would you rather I enlist the kids to sing for you? Come to think of it, I might be able to get you a real live husky-”
“ Steve!”
He’s broken through to her now. It shows in each giggle that leaves her lips, and in the way her face is all red as she shoves against his arm. Steve thinks he would be a little more okay seeing her go, if she were to leave a giggly and playful bundle of happiness like this. At least alone and ambition-less, it would let him rest easier. It’d also be a nice distraction to look back on during the harder days. A wonderful one, even.
Yeah, he’d like that.
“I think,” she says after catching her breath, still giggling, “that you should forget all of that gibberish and come over tonight at eight with some ice cream. If my fate is with the dogs, we’ll eat and be merry. If not, I’m enlisting your ass to make me feel better with a carton of Strawberries & Cream Delight. I’m talking a full evoking of the friend code, in total embarrassing, tissue-filled fashion, Steve. Do you accept that mission?”
“I accept that mission,” Steve deadpans, letting her go. She brushes off her pants with a dramatic exhale before giving him another gentle shove, only partially budging him. He smirks before letting her go back to her job, and takes the remainder of his titles back in hand to go back to his.
“You better come prepared with something for me to go all ape on you for too, by the way,” calls Robin from the next aisle down, peeking her head just through the cracks Steve’s yet to fill. “Simple friendship reciprocity dictates it, and I will not allow myself to be the only hopeless soul ‘baring it all’ tonight!”
“And what if I don’t have something to ‘bare?’”
“You’re Steve,” she scoffs. “You’ve gotta’ have something stored away in that life of yours. Think hard!”
And ain’t that the kicker, Steve thinks after she replies, slouched against the racks as she salutes and trots away. He is Steve. He should have lots going on at the moment. He should have a charmed spiral of things to do, places to be, and conundrums for his best friend to help sort out. But, no matter how hard he thinks on it, he doesn’t. He really, truly doesn’t, not even for her. All he has is the mundane and hopeless hopes for a more exciting future he has little possibility of ever obtaining, and a lot of self pity.
It’s this kind of realization that leaves Steve just as disoriented as he had been the day he’d left the Upside Down in the middle of Family Video.
His stomach starts to sink.
His pulse starts to quicken.
Elvis’ Follow That Dream stares up at him, m ocks him where he stands.
“Figures,” says Steve, shoving the next title in its place.