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It’s been a month since Eddie’s passing. An entire month. And yet, every day seems to be getting harder. Well, it’s not like you expected it would get better. It’s just … hard. Hard watching Dustin push everyone away– hard watching him get his ass jumped every week. It's hard not being around him anymore.
You and Dustin used to be inseparable—before Hawkins split in two. When Dustin refused to let you through the gate at Eddie's trailer, you were cut off from the plan to kill Vecna. Of course, you were worried sick about your friends; their lives would be in danger, and you could do nothing about it. Then you heard it: faint screams of panic from Dustin and Eddie on the other side. You acted fast. Dustin came crashing through onto the mattress, and together you tried pulling Eddie back through. But it was no use—Eddie walked away, muttering nonsense about "being a hero."
Dustin tells you to stay—he'll go back for Eddie. You pace, anxiety climbing with every minute they don't return. Finally, you decide it's your turn to flip upside down. You throw yourself through the gate and land hard on your back. Running through the chaos, screaming Dustin's name, you find him hunched over Eddie's lifeless body. You both sobbed there, holding each other's hands. It felt like hours. Hours of pain. Hours of crying. You had to tear Dustin off of Eddie’s body to get him to return back home.
So, yeah, Eddie’s death has been destroying you too. But nothing compared to Dustin. You’ve tried to talk to him. Tried to get him to talk to you. You’ve tried talking to Lucas, to Will, to Mike– anyone– but no one understands like Dustin does.
After a full week of no contact; no phone call, no walkie-talkie activity, not even a glance in the hallway, you figure it’s time you go to him. Somewhere where he can’t run away, or make up an excuse to stop talking to you.
His house.
You bike through the dark neighborhood, only the streetlights lighting your path. You race against the wind, counting the blocks until you make it to Dustins. Once you arrive, you notice a warm light peering through Dustin's curtains. You lean your bike against the corner of his house and tiptoe towards his window. Praying he’s home, you knock softly on the window. No response. Your heart hammers against your chest as the suspense builds, wondering if this is the right thing to do. You knock again, your knuckles softly hitting the glass three times.
Budump. Budump. Budump.
The curtains from inside fly open, and there he is. Dustin. God, it’s been so long. Too long. You gesture at him to open the window to allow you inside. He rolls his eyes, fidgeting with the lock before the window opens.
“What’re you doing here–?” He mumbles, as you struggle to get the other half of your body inside.
“Shut up and help me–!” You hissed.
He doesn’t hesitate before pulling the rest of you inside. He closes the window as you adjust yourself, fixing your shirt that was lifted up. It feels warm inside– a cozy, familiar feeling that you missed oh so much. A single warm, yellow-toned lamp casts a soft glow across Dustin's room, casting just enough light to see his face.
You look up at him, your eyes locking. You notice his maroon crewneck and black plaid pajama pants. But his face– his poor face is slightly beaten up. There's a fresh slit across his eyebrow and the bridge of his nose is slightly bruised. Your heart suddenly aches, as if it was broken apart like Hawkins itself. You reach a hand out to his face, caressing a thumb over his cheek. He reverts his eyes away, almost ashamed.
“Are you– are you okay?” your voice was soft, laced with worry.
He doesn't respond—but you don't need him to. Your hand slides from his face and finds his palm instead. You pull him behind you toward his bathroom, opening the cabinet without bothering with the light—you know where everything is. Bandages, cottons, and disinfectant in hand, you lead him back to his bed. He keeps quiet, following your every move like a lost puppy.
You sit side by side on the edge of his bed, the mattress dipping beneath you in front of the window you just crawled in through. You face one another, your knees slightly brushing. You grab a cotton ball, swabbing it with the disinfectant.
“Will you at least tell me what happened?” Your voice was softer than you intended.
Dustin’s expressionless face doesn’t change, “It’s pretty clear what happened.”
You sigh at his sarcasm, brushing away stray curls from his face. Bringing the cotton to his eyebrow, you press lightly against the open wound. He tenses, eyes squinting from the pain.
You notice his watery eyes, “Does that sting?”
He groans in response when you swipe the cotton away from his face, leaving a stain of blood. You feel a wave of pity, almost as if you feel his pain. You open a fresh band-aid, placing it on top of where the slit is.
You pause before speaking, “It was Andy and his goons again, wasn't it?”
He nods.
“God– I’m so fucking sick of them.” your fist bundles in anger, “I hate how we have to pretend that he was the monster. Pretend like he didn’t save us!”
You look up at him, his face full of exhaustion and pain.
You bring your hand to cup his face, and he leans into it. “It’s okay. I know you’re tired.”
You awkwardly bring your hand down back into your lap, Dustin's eyes still fixated on you.
You and Dustin were never dating, but you two were always … close … to say the least. Always stuck together when plans fell into place. When he found Dart– you were the first he told. When you guys cracked the Russian code, you guys went down there together. ‘Shared trauma’, they all say.
You try to shake the feeling that you like him more than just a friend, because if anything, that’d just destroy the bond you two have. But it’s so hard not to think about it, when Dustin is such a great guy– and how good of a boyfriend he could be.
“Are you okay?” Dustin's voice is crooked and low.
You realize you’ve been spacing out, staring at your fidgeting hands placed in your lap.
You sigh, “Yeah. Yeah– I’m okay.”
You flop onto your back, legs hanging off the side of the bed, “It’s just– different.”
He flops next to you, your shoulders almost touching, “Yeah.”
“It’s like– no one cares.” you feel a gut wrench of sadness wave over you, thinking of Eddie’s face. “Mike, Lucas, Steve– they all … seem so quiet about it. It seems like it’s only us who are mourning him.”
Dustin exhales, “I know. I’ve noticed.”
Silence stretches between you and Dustin as you lay there, staring at his blank ceiling. The faint smell of old books lingers in the air.
“I wish I could’ve done more.” Dustin spits out.
“What?”
“I wish I could’ve done more. For Eddie.”
“Dustin– you did all you could. You broke your ankle– risked your life– you did all you could. This is not your fault–”
Dustin's voice slightly raises, “Sure, but, I keep telling myself that if I was just … faster … I could’ve made it. Or if I never left him– he’d still be here.”
You turn your head toward him, grabbing his hand that rests beside you. “This is not your fault.”
The moonlight bathes in from the window, highlighting Dustin's glossy eyes. You squeeze his hand tight, feeling his warmth. You lean on your side to face him, eyebrows furrowed in worry. He follows, leaning on his side to face you. You both lay there for a moment, eyes locked on one another.
You wince, “Don’t blame yourself. Please.”
He glances down for a moment, the gears in his head turning.
“Have I ever told you how grateful I am for you, Y/N?” Dustin whispers, almost too quiet to hear.
You smile, “I’m grateful for you too, Dustin.”
You both lay there, spacing off in each other's eyes. The dim light just barely reaches his face, allowing you to admire every texture on his face. His curls are messy against the pillow, and you resist the urge to reach out and twist one around your finger. Dustin softly caresses his thumb over your hand that he’s still holding, which makes this way too intimate than it should be.
Neither of you speak, letting a comfortable silence sink in. It allows you both to admire one another; something you guys haven’t done in weeks, if not months. You accidentally catch yourself glancing down at his lips, but when you glance back up, he’s already looking at your lips too. Your breathing suddenly speeds, and a heat creeps up into your cheeks. When he catches your eyes again, a knowing smile spreads across his face.
“Is it bad that I want to kiss you right now?” Dustin breathed.
Your eyes widen. Were you hearing things? Your lips part to say something, but nothing comes out. Suddenly, everything is too hot.
Dustin lets go of your hand, “Shit–I’m sorry. That was stupid.”
You pull his hand back toward you, “No–no. It’s not stupid.”
Your eyes are locked with his, unsure of what action to take next. You shimmy closer to him, your face inches away from his.
“Is it bad if I want to kiss you right now?” You whisper, glancing at his lips.
His hand moves away from your hand, sliding up your arm and resting on your waist; a small grip that keeps you still. Your heart hammers against your chest at his touch, and you can tell he’s equally as nervous.
Dustin's never been great with flirting. Or girls. So this? This was something new. Something you craved to discover more of. Something you swore you’d find out more about tonight.
You turn your head slightly, leaning in an inch closer. You hesitate, looking down at his lips one last time before pressing into his lips. His lips are soft. Warm. And just the slight, usual stubble on his bottom lip. But it’s nice. So nice. Dustin’s hand that’s placed on your waist tightens. You pull back, creating a distance between your faces.
Dustin's face is flushed, his eyes wide. His heart flutters as he remembers your taste– how soft your lips were on his. His breath is a bit shaky, as if he forgot how to breathe. He was not expecting that.
“What?” You whisper.
He doesn’t reply. Instead, he moves his hand that was once on your waist, further down your back, moving your body closer to his. You’re taken by surprise– which makes you nervous. You slip your hand into his hair, feeling the thick curls between your fingers.
This time, he tilts his head, aligning with your lips. He crashes his lips into yours. Hungry for more. It takes a few minutes for you guys to find the correct rhythm– but once the pace is matched, the kisses start to get more deep. More passionate. More messy.
You can slightly taste him through the kisses– a hint of toothpaste as if he was ready for bed. His hand finds your waist again, his thumb digging into your hipbone, but in a pleasant manner.
The heat between your two bodies continues to grow, making you dizzy. Dustin kisses you more open mouthed, almost driving you insane You tug gently on a few of his curls, earning a soft sound from the back of his throat that makes your heart race even faster.
You pull back in order to catch your breath, and once you look at him, you notice how dazed he looks. His gaze is soft, but desperate. His lips are a darker shade of pink from before; worn out from the previous kissing.
“I wish I did this sooner.” Dustin mumbles, his lips finding yours once again.
Without breaking the kiss, Dustin gently guides your body on top of his, enabling the use of both of his hands. This new angle allows much more movement– more space for Dustin to cover. One of your hands holds your weight, digging into the comforter under him, whilst the other hand finds its way back into his curls. Your hair drips down over him, his fingers making a tangly mess.
But this isn’t nearly enough for Dustin.
He sits up, catching your body into his hands. The sudden position catches you off guard, so you slightly yelp into the kiss. You’re now sitting on his lap as he sits on the edge of the bed, keeping you balanced.
This was more than perfect.
Your arm swings around his neck, whilst the other hand tangles itself into his curly, brunette hair. Both of his hands find your waist, keeping you still on top of him. Dustin gently sucks your bottom lip, making your heart skip a beat. Jesus, where the hell did he learn this?
His hands lower to your hips, straddling your body closer to his, your chest pushing up against his. This was enough to drive him crazy. Dustin's breath was hot and shaky against your face, his lips parting to taste every bit of you.
Dustin takes your lip between his, his tongue brushing against it. He’s desperate. Desperate for entry– desperate for you. Like this was all he needed all along. Dustin nips at your bottom lip, teasing you just enough for you to go mental. His hands drift towards your ass, his hands gripping softly. He slides one back up to your waist, the other cupping your cheek.
He pulls away.
His lips are bright red, and so are yours. There’s a trail of saliva dripping from his mouth– which leaves you smiling. Your foreheads lean against each other, as you both catch your breath.
“Have I ever told you how much I’m in love with you, Y/N?” Dustin says, in between breaths.
You shut him up with a sweet kiss, smiling against his lips. You move your weight into him, his body falling back onto the bed, taking you down with him.
“I’ve loved you for so long.” you reply.
After a while of him admiring you and complimenting you freely, you change into one of his shirts– a few sizes too big. In bed, his arms are wrapped around you tight as if he’s going to lose you.
Finally, a night where you can confidently say you two are on good terms.
Hopefully, from here, it goes up.