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Steve stared at her, he felt like a stalker, but she was so small. She’d kill him for thinking that, but she was. She wasn’t big enough to slowly be dying in a hospital. Barb wasn’t big enough to die. Billy wasn’t. They’re kids, well were kids, but Max just feels so much different.
She should be mocking him, all he’s done is cry at night when he’s with her. He dutifully tells Sinclair he’s got the night shift, they’re supposed to just leave her alone at night, but Steve freaked out at hospital staff enough to let him stay. She doesn’t like the dark and she certainly doesn’t like being alone.
“Oh kid. What the hell are we going to do?” He asks the room, the air, her if she can hear him. He’s braiding her hair, the nurses informed them there’s a chance they’d need to cut it as she’s laying on it. He’d rather kill someone than be the person to tell her her hair was chopped off. So, redoes it nightly, brushes it constantly, and hopes maybe she can see or feel him.
“You know, if you can see me like you described Vecna I am so sorry for what I am. I’m such a fucking mess.” He laughs a little, pretending she can hear him or see him. How she described him in the graveyard, he’d never want her to feel alone.
“You’re never being left alone again. I’m bothering you every day for the rest of eternity.” He informs her, kissing the crown of her head.
“So you’ll never guess what happened today. Go on guess.” He’s met with silence, but continues anyway. “Officer Powell? You know that power tripping asshole? Hopper finally put him in his place. Well, kind of, he’s no longer chief of police anyway.” He waits for a response that doesn’t come.
“I know, right? I was speechless too!” He can’t help but smile at his own joke and he looks at her again, like she’s having a sleepover.
“You know me and my old friends never liked him. He was such a prick. I’m thankful we all thought that because I spent a year with Nance pretending he wasn’t awful. She wanted to trust him because she thought Hopper trusted him, I don’t think he ever trusted anyone in that office. Well, maybe Flo.” He pulls her blanket up again, readjusting it before wrapping his own tighter.
“Can I tell you about Robin? I can’t talk to anyone about it and I want too. I want to tell someone, but it’s a secret.” He walks to the door and looks out, it’s clear. He walks back to the bed, leaning his head on it by her hand.
“Her and this person got together. Like together together, She’s so happy. Like so happy. She talks a million miles a minute about them. It sucks because it’s a secret and Henderson won’t let up on the fact he expects us to date.” She gives no response.
“That’s how I feel too. He needs to let it go. You’d think as a super genius he’d given up by now, but no. I think he’s sent to this earth to be annoying, at least I know you agree with that.” He’s learned silence in this room, he’s learned the art of no responses, but it still feels wrong. She should be mocking him, teasing anyone, playing around. She should not be whatever this is.
“It’s been four weeks.” He perches on his elbows to study her face more. “Four weeks since we’ve got here. They wanted to send you somewhere else, but I wouldn’t let them. Your mom listed me as your emergency contact, or maybe you did. We can’t find her. I’m not saying anything bad happened, I’m saying she got out of the way more than likely.” He doesn’t like how the lie feels in his mouth
“Either way, you have your room at my place. It’s next to mine where you always start the night. I didn’t tell Sinclair even how you never sleep all night in there. He’s been staying there every couple nights, there’s something about seeing him asleep in your bed that’s upsetting though. It feels wrong.” He waits for her to laugh, it doesn’t come.
“Yeah, you’ll be pissed he messed up your room some.” He starts tracing the back of her hand.
“I painted your toe nails yesterday a blue color, but I think I should have went purple. Purple or blue?” He looks at her face, how she looks more peaceful than he had seen in almost a year.
“Yeah, I know. Purple would have been better. I’m going to change them tomorrow I’ve decided.” He feels tired, it pulls on him like a weight.
“I feel like a cat when I fall asleep here. My grandma had a cat, Frisky. He always slept by your hand so you could pet him the second you moved. I used to drag him everywhere. He probably didn’t like me that much, but he always stayed near me.” Steve pulls his blanket more, adjusting himself to prepare to sleep in the world’s worst position for, well he isn’t sure how many times,: who knows how many nights he’s slept like this. Max knows, she’d have to know.
“You feeling a movie? So it’s not so quiet?” He grabs the remote to the VCR he brought the first week, he had put a new tape in as he walked in tonight. He turns everything on before hitting play.
“Dustin likes this movie. I don’t know if that counts for anything though. He can have awful taste, well, maybe not as bad as mine.” He watches the screen turn to purple as the title plays,
“What the hell does he watch? Are you seeing this shit?” He judges as the puppets move on screen, knowing Max would definitely feel the same way as him,
“No wonder the kid has nightmares.” Steve leaves out the reason the whole group is struggling. How Dustin sleeps in his bed after school with Steve so when he sees Max slowly die in his dreams Steve is there. He can pretend it’s from creepy movies like this one.
“You ready to sleep?” He asks her, deciding to curl around her in bed like he usually does. He’s happy in the past week they’ve let him do this, her heart rate usually goes down like she can feel him. He’s happy to think that, but knows it’s probably because she’s warmer so more comfortable.
“This hospital bed does nothing for my bones by the way. Or my hair. My hair always looks awful when I wake up here. Well, you know that. But it’s atrocious Max.” He feels dramatic, but it feels real. It’s what he’d say if she was awake and ready to poke fun at him.
“Night red. I love you. I love you so much you’ll puke from how much I love you. You’ll never let me live anything down and I can’t wait to hear you laugh at me.” He traces her eyebrows a couple times with his finger.
“I’ll see you in the morning. I’ll redo your hair before your boyfriend comes, don’t worry. Maybe I’ll even have time to fix your nail polish. Sorry I picked the wrong color yesterday. I should have just asked you yesterday when I was doing it.” The movie plays softly as he readjusts. He falls into an uneasy sleep, praying silently for a miracle as he does.