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Dustin takes a deep breath, looking in the mirror. A year and a half ago, when he first put this gear on he felt invincible, like a soldier, a warrior. Even when he’d promised not to play hero, he’d felt invincible. Fearless.
What an idiot.
This time, it feels more like donning a shroud. The heaviness of death weights heavy on his shoulders, like the camo is made of led. He’s never been more aware of what he might be walking into.
It’s not like he wasn’t afraid of dying before. He simply didn’t know there was a worse alternative: surviving when others don’t.
Steve walks over, sullen. From the corner of his eye, he recognizes part of his Vecna-hunting get up. He wonders idly if the leather jacket still bares the marks of his nails as they dug into Steve’s arms, fighting back, refusing to let go of Eddie’s corpse.
In a way, he supposes, that’s exactly what he’s been doing the past several months.
Steve comes to stand next to him, entering the mirror. He looks different than he did then. It’s not just the red handkerchief, or the backwards cap that makes him look younger. It’s the darkness and seriousness behind his eyes.
Don’t try to be cute. Don’t try to play heroes.
He didn’t understand that plea back then. Not really. The fear behind his eyes. The guilt. He does now.
Dustin hesitates. He wants to say something, something important and heavy that he’s been carrying for months, something that half resembles and apology and half a confession. He can’t bring himself to say it.
Earlier, they hugged it out. He’d confessed he didn’t hate Steve, wasn’t even mad at him, he was mad at everything, at the world, at himself but he’d been taking it out on him… Up until the horrifying blood-curling moment when he’d through Steve was gone, back at the Hawkins Lab. Dead. One minute here, the other not, gone. No death saves. No second chances. No last opportunity to tell him how much he means to him. Gone like Eddie. Just gone.
But Steve’s here, alive and breathing, and looking at him through the reflection with the seriousness of a storybook warrior.
You still got that bat?
Dustin’s stomach curls. Did he bring Steve into this? The demodogs, the Russians, Vecna… Dustin has constantly showed up into Steve’s live with whatever new danger had appeared and dragged him into the fray. And, for some reason Dustin may never really understand, from that very first day, Steve has answered the call.
Lies. Lies. Lies.
He knows exactly why Steve answered the call. Because that what he does. It’s ingrained somewhere inside that stupid brain of his… the need to jump between others and certain death and put on a fight. And Dustin took advantage of it.
“It’s gonna be bad,” Dustin forces himself to say. Because he has to. Because, for once, he’s going to give Steve what he never did before: an out. “Going back to the Upside Down, finding Vecna, ending this… Even if we win, it won’t end well.”
Steve works his jaw, eyes distant, then turns to him.
“You die, I die.”
And just like that, Dustin is thirteen again. He remembers. The elevator, the Russians, the rush of certainty through his entire body as he realized he couldn’t just stand back and watch Steve die, that surviving that would be worse. (And, oh, he was right).
Steve says it firmly and Dustin finally understands that it goes both ways. He gets it. Why Steve is always running in head first into danger. The alternative is worse.
He feels his eyes sting.
“You die, I die,” he says, finally turning to make eye contact.
It’s a promise, a threat, and a bargain all in one.
Where you go, I go, but you better fucking make it out alive, because I know you love me enough to want ME to live. So put us both on the same boat.
I promise to survive if you do too.
Steve gives him a small nod, eyes soft, and squeezes his shoulder.
Dustin thinks of Eddie.
It’ll come a day, maybe, when he doesn’t. When he can separate them again. Forgive one for dying and one for surviving and himself for not being able to save them and also himself for surviving. Right now, it’s all a mess of feelings.
All be knows though is that he loved Eddie, that he was a mentor and a true friend and a guide to a part of himself he might have quieted down otherwise. He quite literally owes him his life.
And he knows he loves Steve, differently, in a persistent and sometimes infuriating way, which can’t always be explained by pleasantry. In a way that leads to arguments and shouting and hugs and undeniable loyalty to one another. The way Mike talks about Nancy, or Will about Jonathan, or even Erica about Lucas. It’s a non-negotiable. You can’t just stop being brothers.
“But let’s both try not to die today,” he proposes.
Something like relief breaks through Steve’s eyes like a wave on shore right before he lets out a laugh. He lets go of his shoulders only to ruffle his hair, hat and all. He feels little, again, but in a good way.
“You got it, Henderson. Let’s end this asshole together.”
Dustin smiles, and it feels natural for the first time in months. One little piece in the jagged edges of his heart, finds its place again.
You live, I live, he promises himself.