Chapter Text
“Shit’s been… weird, since the gates opened,” Steve says, looking down at his wrist watch. 8:04 PM. “Like… jumpy or something? Right? Robin?”
He looks up. Robin’s gone. The sun is high in the east, dropping morning kisses over dewy lush green leaves, and when Steve looks down at his watch again his sneakers are different. New. He scuffs the toe of one against the curb, watches it change in real time. Time’s all fucked up ever since that fourth chime sounded — got shredded just like the town itself; doesn’t work right anymore, and now it’s 9:17 it’s 6:35 it’s 11:02 and Steve is older, younger, older again.
Nancy’s gone and then she isn’t.
The kids are there and then they’re not kids.
Steve sighs, starts walking toward the center of town. They’ve been calling them “plot holes,” these glitchy time skips, like the universe has the hiccups. Well, Dustin’s been calling them that, anyway. It’s hard to see him now. Hard to see anyone, really, when they keep getting ping-ponged through space-time in uncoordinated bursts.
The last time Steve and Dustin’s plot holes crossed paths was two weeks ago in the summer of 1985. They’d spent the afternoon eating ice cream at Scoops: Steve in his silly sailor suit, Dustin shifting from age fourteen to forty-five as they mixed up the worst flavor combos they could think of. They’d gotten one good hug in, one really solid squeeze, and then the kid had disappeared mid-bite of a chocolate-banana-mint-bubblegum sundae.
At least there’s Eddie.
Steve spots him now at the end of the road. Hopes he makes it to him before he gets sent somewhere else again. He’s been trying to reach him for four decades, give or take.
Because Eddie doesn’t jump. Eddie’s exempt from the nightmare of atoms flung at random across the trampoline of time and space, because Eddie isn’t even supposed to be here. Shouldn’t still be alive — Steve watched Dustin cry over his body; all that blood, so much blood, and maybe Eddie isn’t here. Maybe he’s a figment of Steve’s fractured imagination, some lighthouse beacon Steve invented while he’s been drowning out at sea.
But it doesn’t feel that way. It feels real, feels like one good squeeze when Eddie waves him on, beaming and cheering “you can do it, Stevie, come on!”
Steve reaches out his hand and knows he’ll make it there this time.
Notes:
thanks for reading! i like comments more than steve likes finding an end to his untethered purgatory, so please feel free to yell at me here or on tumblr @wynnyfryd <3
Chapter 2: sǝloɥ ʇold
Notes:
schittpodding did a really fucking cool read of this fic (check the related works link to listen!) for the Voiceteam challenge PODFIC BACKWARD, where the fic was read in reverse order by paragraph, and i liked it so much i'm making a companion chapter to go with it
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Steve reaches out his hand and knows he’ll make it there this time.
But it doesn’t feel that way. It feels real, feels like one good squeeze when Eddie waves him on, beaming and cheering “you can do it, Stevie, come on!”
Because Eddie doesn’t jump. Eddie’s exempt from the nightmare of atoms flung at random across the trampoline of time and space, because Eddie isn’t even supposed to be here. Shouldn’t still be alive — Steve watched Dustin cry over his body; all that blood, so much blood, and maybe Eddie isn’t here. Maybe he’s a figment of Steve’s fractured imagination, some lighthouse beacon Steve invented while he’s been drowning out at sea.
Steve spots him now at the end of the road. Hopes he makes it to him before he gets sent somewhere else again. He’s been trying to reach him for four decades, give or take.
At least there’s Eddie.
The last time Steve and Dustin’s plot holes crossed paths was two weeks ago in the summer of 1985. They’d spent the afternoon eating ice cream at Scoops: Steve in his silly sailor suit, Dustin shifting from age fourteen to forty-five as they mixed up the worst flavor combos they could think of. They’d gotten one good hug in, one really solid squeeze, and then the kid had disappeared mid-bite of a chocolate-banana-mint-bubblegum sundae.
Steve sighs, starts walking toward the center of town. They’ve been calling them “plot holes,” these glitchy time skips, like the universe has the hiccups. Well, Dustin’s been calling them that, anyway. It’s hard to see him now. Hard to see anyone, really, when they keep getting ping-ponged through space-time in uncoordinated bursts.
The kids are there and then they’re not kids.
Nancy’s gone and then she isn’t.
He looks up. Robin’s gone. The sun is high in the east, dropping morning kisses over dewy lush green leaves, and when Steve looks down at his watch again his sneakers are different. New. He scuffs the toe of one against the curb, watches it change in real time. Time’s all fucked up ever since that fourth chime sounded — got shredded just like the town itself; doesn’t work right anymore, and now it’s 9:17 it’s 6:35 it’s 11:02 and Steve is older, younger, older again.
“Shit’s been… weird, since the gates opened,” Steve says, looking down at his wrist watch. 8:04 PM. “Like… jumpy or something? Right? Robin?”
Notes:
thanks for reading! i like comments more than steve likes eating weird sundaes with toddler-grampa-teenager dustin, so please feel free to yell at me here or on tumblr @wynnyfryd <3

andgarbanzos on Chapter 1 Sun 21 Jan 2024 08:59PM UTC
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