Chapter Text
The apocalypse didn’t start quietly, god, Steve kind of wishes it did. It’d be a lot easier to just have it be a slow thing than the absolute ruckus it was, the ground quaking, the skies turning red and spores raining from the clouds and the howls of demo gorgons. The howls were almost as bad as having six terrified kids clinging to him.
He’s never been the responsible type, always throwing wild parties and quite honestly having his head in the clouds most of the time.
His only worry was if his parents were ever going to come home from vacation, certainly not a group of children.
He always wanted younger siblings, but he didn’t quite imagine this being how he would acquire them.
When the world stopped shaking it was clear they weren’t safe in Mrs. Byers house, monstrous howls echoing in the woods nearby.
It took a lot of corralling but Steve managed to get them to the car and they just drove, drove and drove until they reached Hopper’s cabin.
Over the course of a few months it’s been transformed into a tiny fortress of solitude with a barely working well and a temporary home for the seven of them.
Nearly every night he falls asleep on his cot on the floor and wakes up with at least one of the many kids tucked against his side. It’s usually Dustin, but the other thirteen year olds all have their turns laying next to him for comfort.
Sometimes he’ll wake up to screaming and pull out his nail bat, only to realize it’s another nightmare. On those nights he’ll usually stay up and cradle one of them and sometimes the others will all lay together in a pile until they either fall asleep again or morning comes.
Steve does his best to keep food in the cabin, sometimes having to hunt animals himself but other times having to venture into the town. It’s quiet there, a soft breeze and nothing more. If anyone is still alive they must be hiding, but he hasn’t come across anyone.
Four months in and there is something he realizes, he misses having friends. He misses Nancy, a lot. And he misses Tommy H. And Carol too even if they were assholes. A small part of himself even misses Jonathan, sure all they did was fight but at least they were around the same age.
Right about now he’d do anything for a support system his age or Hopper’s age. Anyone above the age of thirteen really.
Four months locked away also comes with unique drawbacks, the kids arguing about petty things, Mike and El having some sort of breakup every other week along with Lucas and Max, Dustin constantly telling him he’s hungry even though he just ate.
Steve tries not to let himself go mad with all of it. He understands where they’re coming from, especially having been that age but it’s proving difficult to stay sane especially after Hargrove hit him with a plate. He hasn’t quite felt right after that, like something in his mind shifted.
At first it was just concussion symptoms and now he can barely hear out of one ear, having to rely on the other to be able to listen for the telltale signs of children sneaking into the woods.
Hopper’s board games can only seem to occupy their minds for so long and playing music is risky. It’s all…very tiring and more often than not Steve finds himself drifting off to a half state of mind.
Sometimes his body feels like it’s somewhere else, just outside of him. When that happens one of the kids usually come and sit beside him, talking softly until he comes back to his senses. None of them talk about it afterwards, pretending it didn’t happen, pretending everything is fine.
El sometimes comes to help him hunt, killing squirrels with ease. He always feels bad when he sees the grief on the face afterwards, the expression too forlorn for her young face. She’s just a kid, a kid who’s seen too much.
Sometimes Mike throws things at him when he’s angry, having difficulty controlling his anger. He usually tears into him about Nancy and Holly and his family and how it’s all somehow Steve’s fault. The boy usually spends the rest of his time hidden in the back room with Will afterwards.
Will is the quietest out of all of them, never sneaking out or talking back. He helps with cooking and cleaning without complaints, often looking like he’s somewhere else.
He’s taken to painting the walls after the paper ran out, brush strokes delicate and practiced.
It’s one of the few things that makes their cabin a true home.
Steve leaves the kids for a trip to town on the fifth month, moving around too still of buildings and avoiding the occasional demo dog.
It’s when he’s raiding a sunk in connivence store that he hears breathing, shallow, fearful, but a person.
There’s another survivor inside the building..