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Four fingers.
Four fingers burned with the effort of gripping the cold metal which seemed as though it heated up against his touch. Physics probably didn't work like that but who cares right now? All Steve had to do was hold on; stay on the edge whilst teetering off it. At least it was him, not the kids and certainly not Dustin. They were as safe as you could be in the Upside Down. Ignoring the crumbling radio tower. Things could be worse, of course. Falling is like flying, that's what they say isn't it? Until he goes splat against the tarmac, he would soar. There were definitely worse ways to die. He could've gotten impaled by a large shard of metal and slowly bled out, feeling his conscious drift in and out. Except his brain would've welcomed overcoming death rather than those sleeps you have after a long night out.
“Why am I even thinking about this?”
His friends' eyes felt like icicles piercing into his face. Not deep enough to kill but firm enough to draw blood. Nobody had moved yet, the slip occurred too quickly. Steve really couldn't tell if it was out of shock or that they'd lost hope. Literally only four fingers were gripping onto cold metal whilst the tower collapsed. Maybe they were scared of falling too. Steve couldn't blame them, who was he to them? Their protector? Was that it? He couldn't see why he would mean more. He was a dick back in high school, he's not worthy of much now. “Not even love.” His father's words rung in his ears.
What was he waiting for? Despite his strong, muscular jock persona in high school, he wasn't able to pull himself up. Maybe he was weaker or it was just that there just wasn't any hope and the situation he was in was unsalvageable. Nobody was coming to save him this time. There was no Robin to brainstorm with, even if they were high out of their minds with Russian truth serum. Robin was gripping on for her own life. There was no Eddie to do some stupid ‘mission’ to sacrifice himself and help everyone. Eddie died and Steve left him to rot. To suffer and bleed. Maybe it'd be better if he stopped trying to cling on. Everything rots like Eddie did. He'd make everyone rot if he stayed. He was venomous.
“Fuck my hair would be so screwed if I fell on my head.” Okay what. His thoughts have gotten to him after the existential threat of falling to his doom. No way was he sane. He did not care about his hair that much. At least, he'd like to think he didn't. After all, it was literally just dead cells that he treated like his own child. Maybe his hair products would miss him…
Nope, new thoughts!
Man, he never got his six little nuggets. And he never would. He wouldn't find someone with the family life aspirations as him because he'll be a mush of blood and guts in an alternative dimension. Oh! Like Eddie! He remembers Nancy's bewildered face so clearly when he brought children up into conversation. That's when he knew they weren't right for each other. He's come to terms with that now, too bad he won't ever get to tell her.
He couldn't tell how long he'd be holding on in hope that maybe someone would reach out. He had no certainty and for some reason felt like crying. Death can't be that sad. Not his anyway.
Seconds, minutes? Likely seconds considering his grip was weak. His upper arm had started to ache. His forearm must've been splitting in half with the extreme effort of holding on. Really, he should be stronger than this.
Three fingers.
To his shock, Steve didn't want to die. Not really. Since the ladder, he didn't want to take that risk anymore. Not for him obviously. There was no way he could die, not after Dustin's breakdown in that building. The kid was straight up terrified. He might not come to terms with it, heal. Ever. How could he do that?
He might not have a choice.
It was getting harder to convince himself Dustin needed him. Eventually he'd move on. Steve would end being a blip in his life; a memory. Nothing at all. God, if Eddie was here it'd be so much easier for Steve right now. Eddie could take care of Dustin, he was good at it. Dustin and Steve were so incredibly different; Eddie was his type of person. Since meeting Eddie, he's learned to be afraid of freaks, he might even say now not to be afraid of the word freaks. Considering the amount of times he had been called it for the people he chose to surround himself with.
The fear was real though, he knows he needs to live for the kids but it's proving extremely difficult when he keeps rationalising away the things he should be trying to live for. The key was probably wanting to live for himself but his heart didn't agree. If he was alone, almost certainly, Steve knew he would let go right now. That's why he wasn't going to live.
Maybe Steve could die with happy memories. Granting him one final wish. A final smile to grace his lips. In life, he hadn't laughed so much that his stomach hurt enough. He hadn't made other people laugh so much that their stomachs hurt enough. He hadn't partied enough (albeit, his partying days were probably over). He hadn't stood up for his friends enough. He hadn't done enough stupid shit. He hadn't loved enough.
He hadn't been loved enough.
Time really had slowed down, hadn't it? He came up with many things to live for but he still feels his third finger slipping and scraping against the metal. Skin was ripping off, when he looked up he could see the blood. Clearly, he put effort into clinging on. No one could fault him. Ooh, maybe his thoughts had sped up and actually he's just thinking super quickly and his brain splurges out everything it can because it somehow knows he will die and is granting him last wishes and shit.
“Oh well that got dark quick.”
Two fingers.
Two fingers wasn't enough.
He saw Jonathan running.
He was falling
Falling.
Jonathan reached out.
Their fingers grazed each others.
He was falling.
Still falling.
He failed.