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Years of monster-hunting injuries– and a Russian torture session or two– have done some damage. He’s pretty sure he has a permanent concussion by now, if not a more serious brain injury. What else could explain his life decisions?
He’s a Little League baseball coach, high school sex education teacher, designated driver on international vacations with his ex-girlfriend and her practically widowed little brother, not to mention a serial monogamist. He can’t seem to hold down a relationship, no matter how good it feels at the start.
Something is always missing, so it has to be a head injury. Unpleasant, yes, and also likely to lead to a lifetime of health issues, but–
Highly preferable to the alternative: His heart, broken once again by the woman in front of him, her expression frozen with panic as she ducks under his arm and into the karaoke bar he has no interest in being at anymore.
Robin and the kids– or teens, or whatever the hell they are now– are looking directly at the back door, so they notice immediately when Steve and Nancy walk back in. They’ve known him for the better part of a decade now, and most of them had grown up in Nancy’s house. These are not strangers. These are people who have let him see the worst of them. These are people who have seen the worst of him and stuck around anyway.
They know each other, Steve thinks, so it’ll be fine when he asks to go back to the Lodge without any explanation. He just has to open his mouth. He just has to ask for a little breathing room. They won’t badger him. He knows this. He’s done it before.
Steve braces himself with every step and takes in a breath as he reaches the table.
Lucas speaks up before anyone else can say anything. “I think we’re all really tired,” he says, “and they’ve got strobe lights going on, which isn’t great for Max’s migraines.”
“Let’s go home,” Dustin says, rising to his feet. “People are getting really, really drunk, and I love you guys enough to listen to your bad singing, but I do not have any grace for these strangers.”
God, he loves these kids.
Each of them smile at him and Nancy as they file out of the bar, except for Max, who stops and very seriously informs them she called shotgun before they reached the table. Nancy easily surrenders the position– the more space she gets from him, the better, he thinks bitterly– and throws an arm around Max’s shoulder as the two of them keep walking.
Robin waits for him. She loops an arm through his. “That bad?”
“I don’t wanna talk about it,” he mumbles.
“You can have twenty four hours,” she offers.
“Forty-eight,” he negotiates.
“I’ll give you forty-eight if you don’t lie to whichever child representative the council sends your way tonight.”
Steve thinks about it. “Not a bad offer, actually.”
“Don’t get too comfortable– It’ll probably be Max,” she says, “They didn’t even talk in front of me, they just did this weird thing with their eyes and silently agreed.”
“They all share one brain,” he tells her, pushing open the door. He hadn’t bothered to take his jacket off after coming inside from the alley, so the cold doesn’t bite him as sharply as he’d expected it to. His head pounds like he’s developing a post-gin headache, but he hasn’t had any alcohol tonight. “They don’t need to talk out loud.”
“I prefer it when they do. You know how much they’re not telling me these days?”
“I honestly do not.”
“Dustin and Suzie are talking again!” Robin gapes at him as they walk to the car, furiously whispering at him. She pokes his upper arm when he doesn’t react. “Did you hear me?”
“Yes,” Steve grumbles, lowering his voice as they reach the car and its expectant passengers, all shivering and bouncing on their feet. “He told me.”
“Who told you what?” Max asks.
Steve looks at Dustin apologetically. “Sorry, dude–”
“No, no–” Dustin starts, “no, you promised–”
“Dustin and Suzie are talking again,” Steve says as he shoves the key into the lock on the door.
The mechanism clicks in tandem with Max and Lucas’ loud reactions. They all pile into the back of the rental Voyager talking over each other. Max, sitting shotgun, turns to face the middle and back seats and stays that way the whole ride.
“Why wouldn’t you tell me?” Max demands.
“Forget her,” Lucas whines, “I’m your best friend, why wouldn’t you tell me?”
“We feed you,” Robin adds, insulted. She gestures between herself and Nancy, crammed in the farthest row back with Dustin. “Multiple times a month! You tell us nothing!”
“I would have liked to know,” Nancy tells Dustin quietly.
Steve only hears her because his eyes flick from the road to the rearview mirror as he drives. He catches her gaze more than once.
“It’s a lot of pressure!” Dustin finally lets out. “It’s terrifying. We already broke up once and all this stuff happened, and I– the Eddie era was not great for me. And I wasn’t great for her. She doesn’t have to give me the time of day, she doesn’t owe me anything, and it feels less embarrassing if all of you don’t know about it. It’ll hurt less when she ends it.”
They all fall silent.
Thinking back to the Eddie era still puts a pit in his stomach. He and Dustin have talked it out multiple times in the last few years; Steve has shared all of his most guilt-ridden and shameful thoughts about the night of the Thunderquake. Dustin had forced him to admit his relief, and Steve had said the words so easily. I’m glad it wasn’t you.
Their relationship is stronger for it, but Steve’s mind isn’t. He still has nightmares about the walk from the Creel House to Eddie’s trailer.
Max is dead, he’d thought on a loop. He’d been numb and empty. Max is dead and I’m going to have to read the letter. Max is dead. I let Max die.
Always the goddamn babysitter, he’d complained, and Nancy had told him, hadn’t she, that Max needed someone to look out for her? He’d only complained more. Why does that someone always have to be me?
That night, Steve had realized why it always had to be him.
Because Steve had gone back into the Byers house and used himself as bait for demodogs and dropped into the tunnels with the kids and drove the Toddfather to the mall like a maniac. Steve had watched Max the entire time she’d camped out in front of Billy’s gravestone. Vecna had tried to grab her, but Steve hadn’t let her. They’d had time and a chance to fight for her, and, even if it was by the skin of their teeth, they’d won her back.
Why, he’d asked himself. Why did I let her go with just a walkman and Lucas and Erica?
He’d beat himself up so much on that walk about Max that he hadn’t thought, for one second, that something could have happened to Dustin. He’d almost collapsed at the edge of the trailer park after catching sight of one person leaning over the body of another. From the distance, in the muted lighting of the Upside Down’s perpetual dusk, Steve hadn’t been able to determine which one was Dustin. He’d yelled and he’d yelled and Dustin had looked up and Steve had run and Dustin had cried and Steve had dropped to his knees muttering thankgodthankgodthankgod as he’d pulled Dustin in for a hug.
“She won’t end it,” Mike says firmly. “I’m the only other one here who’s met her, remember? The girl fixing her own satellite on the roof of a three-story house is not scared of reconnecting with her ex-boyfriend.” He’s fully turned back in his seat, too. “And, I mean, she was totally down to get all of her siblings involved to pull a fast one on their dad.”
“She’s pretty amazing,” Dustin agrees, looking at his lap.
“And you’re worth it, kiddo,” Robin tells him, nudging his shoulder with his. “Hey, while we’re talking relationships–”
Steve knows what’s going to come out of her mouth as she says it. He has to talk to the parking attendant and hand over the little validation card so they don’t have to pay extra to get into the Lodge’s parking lot. Robin, counting on this, has timed her announcement perfectly.
She speaks up as he rolls the window down and leans slightly out the window. “Steve and Megan broke up.”
The car erupts in cheers. The parking attendant smiles at him as she hands him his ticket, and Steve nods at her and mouths a thank you as he drives into the lot.
He wants to puke. The not-a-gin headache pounds even harder.
Max punches his arm. He swipes at her with one hand and steers the car into the closest parking spot he can find with the other. “God dammit.”
“Hell yes,” Lucas says loudly, pumping his fist.
Steve throws the car into park, but he doesn’t unlock the doors. “I thought you guys liked Meg.”
“We do,” Dustin says immediately. “She’s so smart.”
“She’s beautiful,” Mike states matter-of-factly.
“She’s very nice,” Max adds.
“So yeah, we like Meg. Actually, we love Meg,” Lucas says simply. “But, you know…”
He trails off, clearly expecting Steve to finish his sentence. When Steve doesn’t, Mike huffs. “We love Meg, but you don’t love Meg, dude. Now are we gonna keep sitting here, or what? Let us out. Come on.”
Stunned, Steve clicks the button on his door to let them out. Everyone in the back disembarks easily. He and Max sit in silence for a few minutes while he thinks.
“Wanna get a drink?” she asks eventually. “They’re all probably in the elevators by now. They won’t see us at the bar.”
“I have a headache,” he tells her.
“Oh grow up.” She rolls her eyes at him as she hops out of the car and shoves the door shut. He’s a few seconds behind her, but she’s impatient. She snaps her fingers at him all the way into the Lodge.
Max insists on getting hot chocolates for both of them, so Steve tries to find a place to sit while she’s ordering. He flops onto a pretty comfy looking couch that faces the window looking out onto the slopes. Megan had wanted to go skiing. She’d asked to come. He hadn’t known what to say.
Mugs clink against the glass coffee table in front of him and the couch dips, signaling Max’s arrival. He leans forward to grab his mug.
“Do you wanna talk about it?” Max asks him. She curls up on the couch next to him and leans over to grab her mug before tucking her feet under her legs and resting her head on his shoulder. He’s too emotionally exhausted to tell her not to wreck a couch with her shoes, but it’s not his couch. They’re not his shoes.
Steve knows she’s not looking at him on purpose. “Nothing to say.”
“She looks like someone died,” Max says. “And you look like you died.”
“We talked about it,” Steve tells her. He tends not to lie to Max. She can see through it. Besides, they understand each other in ways everyone else can’t. They’ve each lost a parent, and neither of them know how to build a relationship with the one they have left.
“And?”
“We decided we don’t work together and it isn’t a good idea.” He sips his hot chocolate.
“That was a really, really stupid decision.”
Steve tilts his head. He can’t see her face, only her hair, her twin braids from this afternoon now looser and more frizzy. Sometimes, when they have moments like this, he pretends like she’s actually his little sister, like she never died, like she’s not too grown up for her age with a full life on the other side of the country where she lives with her long term boyfriend, far from his reach. “I miss you,” he says instead.
“I miss you too, sap,” she says. “Don’t try to change the subject.”
“I’m really glad you and Lucas could make it.”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” she says. “How come you didn’t invite us on the last one?”
“I wasn’t really sure what was happening,” he says honestly.
“We thought you guys got back together and didn’t wanna tell anyone,” Max admits. “I mean, Lucas and I did. Dustin figured he’d know immediately, and Mike thinks Nancy’s too miserable to be happy.”
His heart aches. Broken and battered. She wants him, but she doesn’t want him enough. She hates making him miserable, but she can’t help herself. She can’t stop, either, because she’s miserable. She doesn’t know how not to be.
“I would tell Dustin,” Steve confirms. “And now I have to say that because he did tell me about Suzie.”
At this, Max pulls her mug away from her face and shoots him a look that would be derisive if not for her foam mustache. “God, you are all such losers. I was out of the loop for like a year and a half, it’s not fun. You know I hate not knowing things.”
“Right,” Steve says seriously, “totally not like everyone else here, who is super great about not knowing things.”
She ignores him. “You know, after that spring break– I figured if I ever woke up, you guys would be back together already.”
Steve doesn’t know what to say to that.
“Well that… did not happen.”
“What did happen?” Max asks.
“Uh–” Steve runs through his memories, tries to untangle March of 1986. “Nancy and I talked when we were in the Upside Down, I confessed she’s still the girl of my dreams, told her I wanted a big family and road trips and traveling and– I dunno, to learn how to surf. And Robin interrupted us before she could say anything, and then you know, the world ended. Jonathan was back.”
“And then he was in her house,” Max says glumly. “God.”
“Eddie was dead, you were in a coma, Dustin and Lucas were… a mess–” Steve sniffles. He stares down into his mug. “My dad died, my mom fell apart, couldn’t find your mom. Couldn’t reach your dad. Had to handle the guardian ad litem paperwork. The military rolled into town. El was– El was the most depressed I’ve ever seen her. Like, Wheeler levels of self criticism. We were not operating at our best.”
Max sniffles too. He pulls back so he can look at her properly, but she wipes her tears with her free hand before he gets the chance.
“You can cry in front of me,” he tells her. “No judgment.”
“I just– I should have fought harder.”
“Fought who? Vecna?”
Max nods without meeting his gaze. “Should have run to another memory instead of just expecting El to save me. I kept trying to think of happy memories and letting fear win over.”
“Max,” Steve says loudly. A few people look over. Steve ignores them. “I haven’t been in that guy’s hellscape, but I don’t think I could handle it.”
She scoffs. “You could handle it. You handle everything.”
“I handle the things that don’t matter,” he corrects. “If I have to pick up a weapon and fight, or give someone a hug, or show up to something, keep track of who needs a ride or whatever, I can do that. I’m not good at handling the quiet stuff. The really, truly hard stuff.”
“That’s a lie,” she says. “Dustin told me everything about that year, and his grief. How you stuck around. How you didn’t leave him, even when you fought. Sticking around is really and truly hard. You’ve done that.”
Now Steve wants to scoff. She doesn’t let him.
“You used yourself as bait the first day you met me,” she tells him, “you left the bus, and then you pushed me away from the ladder, you fought Billy, you lifted me out of the tunnels– That was the first day, Steve. I don’t even think I knew your name, then. You had no reason to stick around, and you did. In my whole life–” Max purses her lips. Unshed tears threaten to spill over, but don’t. She sniffles again and wipes her nose with her sleeve. “No one has ever stuck around before. I mean, Lucas and Dustin, yeah, but not anyone older. Not someone who paid attention to when I needed a ride or a hug or put themselves in front of me so a monster from Hell didn’t get me. Steve, I was in a coma and you got a lawyer involved so you could make my medical decisions.”
“Jesus, Max,” Steve croaks out. He doesn’t trust himself to use his voice any more than that. All he can do is blink rapidly so he doesn’t cry.
“When I get worried, I call you. And if I can’t reach you, I call Robin or Nancy. Every single time. You guys are the adults in my life. And, I don’t know, it’s surprising that you don’t see how I see you. How all of us see you. It’s so different from how you see yourselves.”
“Jesus,” he says again.
“Maybe just give Nancy some time,” she suggests. “And talk to her about what she’s feeling. How she sees herself. Meet her where she is.”
“I always meet her where she is,” Steve grumbles. “I’ve been doing that for like eight years.”
“Okay, Steve, seriously, Robin’s the only one who knew you and Meg broke up. Whatever talk you guys had tonight means literally nothing, because you’ve been some other girl’s boyfriend for months.”
“I told her tonight–”
“Months,” Max emphasizes. “You have been in a relationship for months. Don’t be stupid.”
“Max,” he says in disbelief.
“You stare at her all the time, you know? Every time she walks into a room. Like she’s the most important thing in your line of sight.”
“She is,” Steve admits softly.
“But it’s kind of crazy. Because you stare at her so much, Steve, you’re always looking. But I don’t know if you’re actually–” Max bites her lip, uncharacteristically nervous to tell him her real thoughts. “I think Nancy doesn’t tell us a lot about how she feels. And I don’t want you to think that looking at her is the same thing as seeing her.”
“I see her,” he says defensively. “Max, you don’t think I see her?”
“I have said what I needed to say.” She’s already sitting up. She rests her half-finished mug of hot chocolate on the coffee table. “Bedtime, I think. You wanna finish my drink? Should I leave it here?”
“Max, come on.”
“I told you how I feel,” she says, shrugging. “You can do whatever you want with that information. Now, the drink?”
Steve sighs. “Yeah, I’ll finish it.”
As is her way, Max has decided their very heavy emotional conversation is over. Her nose is still slightly red, but she lets out a few deep breaths to get back to center. “I’ll tell Robin I talked to you. What did she give you? Thirty-six hours?”
“Forty-eight,” Steve says.
“Pretty good deal,” she tells him. She rises to her feet and stretches. Then a yawn overtakes her. Steve’s own eyes feel a little heavy, but he has two half mugs of hot chocolate to finish. “Okay, goodnight. See you tomorrow.”
“Goodnight,” he says as Max starts walking towards the elevators. “Love you!”
“Love you!” she calls back, feigning annoyance.
Steve stares at her back until she’s gone.