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“So, the lab created the wall,” Jonathan nodded, pointing to whatever it was on Dustin’s stupid map, like it was all a fact they were just accepting instead of speculation. Because obviously when Dustin said something, it must be true, despite him being absolutely AWOL and a total asshole for over a year, now. Just because he thought it was a circle, didn’t mean there wouldn’t be a gap or a break or a fucking door. It could just be half a circle for all they know! Did Dustin’s stupid algebra tell him that part, too?
Steve rolled his eyes as Dustin shrugged.
“No idea. But I think we should find out. Don’t you?” Dustin seemed brighter than Steve had seen him all year, brighter than he’d been since before Eddie’s…. —Whatever, he cut that thought off with another huff and roll of his eyes that went ignored.
It was nice seeing a side of Dustin that seemed lost, Steve just wished he could have seen it when he tried to reach out, when he’d been checking in with Claudia, when he tried to drive Dustin to school in the mornings. Not now. Not when the thing making him light up again was all this shit.
They all shared looks, Jonathan’s eyes skating between Dustin and Nancy like Steve wasn’t even there. Like Steve was just a ghost, invisible to the rest of the world. It prickled at the back of his neck, that general hum of irritation that had been following him for days — hell, for months — bubbling up to the surface.
He’d been trying not to let it get to him; he understood the paranoia of trying to cling onto Nancy Wheeler’s affections. It was a bit ironic, though, considering the fact that she’d cheated on him, with Jonathan. He didn’t even want Nancy back, but the way the other man was constantly looking at him with suspicion and annoyance made his heckles rise.
El’s voice crackled through the walkie speaker, tearing through the awkward silence that had descended upon the dilapidated chapel. It was muffled by Dustin’s backpack, sitting next to Steve on the pew bench.
“Something happened on the other side.”
Nancy marched over, taking the walkie out of Dustin’s bag and wandering closer to the vine-clad altar for space, “What do you mean ‘something happened’?”
“It’s Will.”
“Will?” Jonathan startled, rushing to Nancy’s side like being closer to the walkie would make Will safe again.
“What about Will?”
“I could see through his eyes. On the Upside. Like the hivemind.”
The three of them bickered over the walkie cutting in with questions El didn’t have the answers to, speculating even more about the circle wall, and for all the world (both worlds) acting like Steve didn’t exist. He watched from the pew, keeping his mouth shut because he knew, he knew, that if he opened his mouth, Jonathan or Dustin or fuck— maybe even Hopper would just tell him he was being stupid.
He knew his mouth was on a tight leash though — could feel it simmering under his skin — and he was closer every second to just saying fuck it and burning all of his bridges. It felt like that would make everything worse, somehow. It felt like that would just prove them right, that Steve was too stupid to keep it together, too emotional to be supportive, too much of a loser to be any help. It would prove that he hadn’t changed.
Despite the fact that it was him that got them into the Upside Down while everyone was screaming at him.
He rolled his eyes again and leaned back as the walkie conversation pattered to a close. Will was safe, and he’d protected everyone on the Right Side Up as far as El knew. And somehow, miraculously, they’d found El’s ‘sister’ in the military base.
“We’re going to meet you at the cemetery, don’t move,” Hopper cut in sternly.
Steve couldn’t help scoffing to himself. Of course they made it into the Upside Down only to sit still and do nothing.
“What is it now, Steve?” Dustin sighed as the walkie cut out. “Are we not giving you enough attention? Is that it?”
“Oh, that’s rich coming from you,” he snapped back.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Steve shook his head. He shouldn't keep talking. He should swallow his tongue like he’d been doing all this time. He should keep it together and just take a fucking walk or something — distance himself until he could trust that he wouldn’t say something stupid.
But he scoffed again instead, rolling his eyes at Dustin the same way the kid had been doing every day since last April, stooping to his level like they were playing fucking limbo.
“It means you’ve been spending all year trying to act out for attention, and then shoving everyone else away when they give it to you. But I’m the one who’s desperate for it? Sure,” Steve rolled his eyes, standing from the pew and wandering down the aisle just so he wouldn’t have to see any of them. He needed to calm down; he needed to get it together. He just needed to take a few breaths, get some air — no matter how spore-filled and dank it was.
“Let us know when you’re done with your tantrum,” Jonathan’s voice called out, blasé and condescending, just like everything out of his mouth since the Byers came back from California and he’d decided Steve was enemy number one.
The last sense of rationality flowing through his bloodstream dried right up, feet frozen halfway up the aisle. It was like an out-of-body experience as he turned sharply on his heel and zeroed in on the lanky stoner, as if the past four years had never happened and Steve was standing in a dirty alleyway again, anger so heavy it weighed down his bones and pressed tightly on his chest.
“You really want to talk about tantrums, Byers? How about that tantrum you threw because you thought me being too nice was selfish? You think you have any right to talk about being selfish when you’ve clearly been lying to Nance for years, because you’re too insecure to say no?”
Nancy’s eyes snapped to Jonathan as she pursed her lips, “What does that mean?”
Steve ignored her, the fire in his veins spurring him forward, too much momentum to stop now, “You’re so focused on me, like I’m only here because of Nancy, but news flash, Byers— I’ve done all the same shit for the kids. I’ve shoved myself in front of them any chance I got, with the demogorgons, and the dogs, and Billy, and the Russians, every single time. You just weren’t there to see any of it.
“You know why I can’t remember a, a flashlight, or a Shakespear quote, or, or whatever else you think makes me an idiot, huh? I’ve had five concussions. Five. And sure, a couple of them were from sports, but the others? It’s from all this shit,” he gestured all around them, at the rotting wood and creeping vines that squirmed every so often, red lightning flashing outside as Steve went on, “Do you know what that does to a person? I wasn’t even allowed back on the basketball team after the third one.”
“What a tragedy that must have been,” Dustin muttered, kicking his sneaker through the dust and grime settled on the floorboards.
“The doctors said I could lose my hearing with the next one, Dustin. Or my speech, or my eyesight, do you get that? I don’t know what else to do for you people to stop treating me like some random idiot you stumbled across three minutes ago.
“Fuck. Eddie failed high school twice and you never once treated him like an idiot—”
“Don’t talk about him.” Dustin cut him off sharply. He’d started softening up just a little through Steve’s rant, fidgeting more and looking at the ground instead of meeting Steve’s eye, but the slight mention of Eddie had him stiff and angry once more. He stared Steve down like he was ready to fight him, and that panged in his chest like a knife.
“You’re not the only one who lost him, Dustin, I— we all did,” Steve pleaded. He hated the hardened look in the boy’s eye, the fury and the indignation. Two years ago, Steve didn’t even know Dustin could make that face, and here it was directed toward him. And it was one thing to push people away, it was one thing to close himself off, but he was morphing into some vengeance fueled version of Eddie that Steve knew the man would have hated.
He didn’t know Eddie that well… well, he did, kind of. He knew what the man sounded like when he laughed, knew how low his voice dipped when he was high, knew bits and pieces about his dad and Wayne and his mother, whispered into the night like the dissipating smoke between them.
Knew what he tasted like after a few shots of vodka.
Knew the feeling of his skin under Steve’s fingertips.
It was only a couple times. After a party or two, under the influence, nothing major. Maybe they could have been more; maybe they could have been something after…
But now he’d never know. Now there was just a gaping hole where potential used to be.
Now there was just a little shithead stomping around trying to play Invasion of the Body Snatchers like it didn’t tear Steve up inside every time he saw him. Like Dustin didn’t even exist before Eddie, like that kid was dead, too.
“You die, I die, kid. Remember that? I don’t want to spend all this time being pushed away, when none of us know if we’ll make it back this time. It’s not… it’s not good to pretend we’re not close, or like we don’t care, or, or to be fighting all the time.
“What if one of us doesn’t make it out? What if it all just ends and we don’t get to say things we want to say, or do things we want to do?”
Brown eyes twinkling by the pool lights, a slurred ‘Harrington’ on his lips, dimples gouged out of his cheeks like the torn flesh of his neck—
“It just,” he croaks, blinking back the sudden sting in his eyes and the tightness of his throat as if the bat’s tail was still wrapped around him, still squeezing, still dragging further into the Upside Down. “I just don’t want to do that again.”
Not again.
He glanced up at the silent trio, hoping they didn’t ask him what he meant. His throat was too tight, too stuffed up with things he never got to say, and maybe he’d die with them stuck in his windpipe.
But Dustin wasn’t gearing up for more questions or comebacks, and surprisingly neither was Jonathan. He was looking at the ground again, scuffing his shoes, avoiding Steve’s eyes. They both were.
“Jon, I’m… I’m not trying to get Nancy back, or whatever you think, man. I just want to help. I just want… want to be useful, and I’m not smart like you guys, I know that. I don’t get the algebra or the science things, or the nerd references, but I’m strong. I’m fast. Those are things I can do, I’m not trying to be macho or show off, alright? I just…” he deflated. He felt kind of like a balloon that had been pumped full of air, only for a tiny hole to drain it all — squealing and whining until he was just a heap of rubber on the floor.
Shaking his head in the sudden quiet, Steve stepped back toward the chapel doors. “I just need a minute. Sorry,” he mumbled, turning his back on the trio once again, and heading for the empty space Eddie’s headstone should be on the Right Side Up.