Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

"So it's the allegory of the cave."

It’s 3:24. The clock ticks quietly on the wall of the Family Video, time moving like syrup. Steve's supposed to be working, but there are no customers and Robin is off, so he's half-listening to the rambling flow of words in his ear.

“Earth to Steve. Are--”

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"--You listening?"

He jolts. He had fallen halfway back into sleep.

His alarm is still going off, the soft tune of Wild About My Lovin' playing quietly in the background of their conversation.

He should change the song, it's too soft to wake him up in the mornings, and he ends up oversleeping. That’s not a problem anymore, though, he thinks as he rolls over to face Eddie.

"Yeah, I heard you. You said you'd 'die for a piece of that birthday cake,' and then grabbed my ass."

Eddie scoots closer, lacing their fingers together and looking at Steve softly.

Steve squirms under the attention, feeling like he's being blinded by a spotlight trained on him alone.

Eddie leans in and presses a ghost of a kiss to his lips.

Steve shivers, and it seems to encourage him, because he places a firmer kiss to his forehead. Steve still isn't used to just how often he touches him, and how soft it all is. Like, it's not always making out while they take each other's clothes off as fast as possible, it's also been a million forehead kisses a day, and a hand petting his hair when they watch a movie, and an arm slung around his waist when he cooks. A pit forms in his stomach. Like he doesn't deserve this, and any moment, it will all be ripped away.

Which is stupid, he's being stupid. Eddie is his boyfriend. He’s staying here forever. That twist of guilt in his chest doesn't have any place here.

“You are so hot,” he whispers, grabbing Steve’s unblemished sides.

"We gotta get up," he says, because as nice as this is the kids are downstairs. "I'll go make some coffee."

"Somebody else can do it. Surely they can handle--"

There’s a crash from downstairs, and Steve flinches, instinctually reaching toward the bedside, and grasps at nothing but air. Right. He doesn't keep a bat there, now. They're safe.

The sound of bickering teens reaches his ears, and he relaxes. The kids stay over several times a week now, he has yet to get used to the occasional sudden noise.

“We better go see what they broke,” he sighs fondly, reluctantly scooting out of Eddie's embrace to make his way downstairs.

_________

It's a vase. His mother's favorite vase, the one with the rose patterns on the outside. He had always hated that vase. It's shattered beyond repair.

There weren't any flowers in it, so at least there's no water or thorns to clean up, just the pink ceramic shards revealing the gray insides. He picks one up and sighs, turning it over in his hands.

Mike, Lucas and Dustin stand around the mess, looking at Steve with matching guilty expressions.

"Stand back," says Steve. "Don't touch it, you might get cut. Who's got the broom?"

“Here," says Mike, handing over the broom and dustpan. Steve kneels and starts cleaning it up. "Sorry we broke your vase."

Steve doesn’t care about the thing. It was ugly as hell, and it's not like his mom will care, really. She never even used it as far as he knows; he can literally see the dust that had collected inside over the many years they'd had the thing.

“It’s okay, but be careful next time. You could’ve gotten hurt, guys.”

Mike nods, contrite. It’s nice having the kids actually listen to him, and at least try to stay safe. It’s good for his sanity.

He herds them into the kitchen and gets out the pancake mix and blueberries as the kids chatter at the table.

Eddie leans over and kisses his cheek. Steve tenses on instinct, something he has yet to shake, but nobody even looks up from their food except Dustin, who pretends to gag.

“Get a room!”

“It’s Steve's house," says Eddie, pinching Steve's cheeks. “And it’s Steve’s world, we’re just living in it, aren’t we baby?”

Steve pushes him away halfheartedly, unable to stop smiling. "You guys are over here so much you may as well move in."

Eddie takes the spatula from Steve's hand and salutes with it.

"Steve, thank you for your service, but the birthday boy does not cook on his birthday."

“You’ve said that every day since my actual birthday,” Steve laughs.

“It’s your extended birthday."

He's steered by his shoulders to a seat, and is firmly sat down.

"What are we having this morning, chef?"

"Pancakes, monsieur," says Eddie in a horrible French accent. "In the shape of your choosing."

"Surprise me."

Steve sips his coffee and listens to the kids bickering about the new movie that's out, The Gate, that they're going to see this week. Steve's not joining them; he's not into horror, but they seem excited. Eddie is humming in the kitchen, the notes of one of the only Judas Priest songs Steve actually knows.

A few minutes later, two pancakes are set before Steve, one in the shape of a bat, and the other, so small that it had clearly been an accidental drip in the pan, has been prodded into the shape of a tiny heart. It's such a soft and romantic gesture that he wants to keep them forever, and frame them somehow, not eat them.

"Where's our pancakes?" whines Mike.

"Coming soon, Mr. Impatient." Eddie shoots Steve a look of Can you believe this kid? "Go on, eat," he says, tapping Steve's plate.

"Not 'til everyone has theirs too. I can help--"

"Nope! No cooking! I'm spoiling you today," he cackles out the maniacal witch laugh he loves to do.

He goes back to the kitchen, and brings out the tallest stack of pancakes Steve has ever seen.

"I made myself a bat one too. We match," Eddie grins. He bites into the head, tearing it off in one big chunk. "Mmph, these came out good," he says through a mouthful of food.

"Okay, Ozzy, calm down," laughs Steve.

Eddie whips his head over to stare at Steve incredulously.

"You knew about the Ozzy bat thing?!" he says, spewing crumbs across the table. "Did I tell you about that? Because for a second there it sounded like ABBA loving, Tears for Fears fan Steve Harrington has been researching Black Sabbath on his own time."

Steve scoffs. "'Course I know, remember the--?"

Eddie stares at him blankly, with that grin still on his face, brows furrowed in confusion. Steve's smile goes stiff.

Right. He doesn’t remember that.

Sometimes Steve gets caught up in it, and forgets it wasn't always this way.

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April 28, 1987

“Earth to Steve. Are you even listening?”

It’s 3:24. The clock ticks quietly on the wall of the Family Video, time moving like goddamn syrup.

No customers have come in, and Robin is off today, so he's half-listening to Dustin explain his idea for a new D&D campaign over the counter.

Dustin would probably rather be talking to somebody who gets what he's talking about. Steve tries to pay attention, but most of it goes over his head, “paladins” and “clerks” and all that. He tried reading one of those monster manuals one time and the words didn’t make any sense.

Steve taps his fingers distractedly against the counter, in off-rhythms as he tries to remember a song that’s stuck in his head. He has got to change his alarm.

He looks at the clock again.

3:25.

"Steve?"

"Hmm-- what?"

"I'm telling you about the new campaign!"

"Sorry, sorry. I'm listening. They're in a cave, right?"

"It's like you don't hear a thing I say. It's not a literal cave. Look at the diagram."

He taps the piece of notebook paper, covered in stick figures in a tiny illustration.

"This looks like a cave to me, man."

"It's an allegory," Dustin says slowly, like he's explaining to a small child. "Sometimes I seriously wonder if you’re illiterate. I even labeled it.”

Steve squints at the labels. He has no idea what Dustin is talking about.

3:26.

Steve heaves a sigh. Time flies.

It's his birthday tomorrow. He should celebrate, probably. Get excited. He can't bring himself to feel anything about it at all. This day last year he'd planned to throw a party, but Vecna had thrown a wrench in that, and he hadn't exactly been in the mood after everything.

Another year gone, and what does he have to show for it? A headache coming on, and a shift that's over if he can just make it through another hour.

“Okay, look. These guys, they're chained up in this cave, have been since they were babies. And all they can see is shadows projected on the wall, of these puppets."

"They chained up babies?"

"Don't interrupt! To these guys, the shadows are all that's real, that's all they’ve ever seen. They don't even know there's a whole world out there."

"Okay." Steve is still hung up on the babies. He wonders if the babies had tiny chains that got switched out as they got older, or if they started with adult chains they grew into over time. That's kind of fucked up.

"That’s where I got the idea. So the actual idea of the campaign is this.”

But couldn't the babies slip out before they grew into them? Kind of their own fault that they’re stuck.

“The party starts out in the forest and they think they're on a simple quest to kill an elusive monster…"

Wait. If the babies chains needed to be switched out, wouldn't they see whoever was doing the switching? Maybe it would be too dark. But they'd have adjusted eyesight, by the time they were adults.

"But really, they're in the domain of an eldritch god, and it's not a forest at all--”

“It’s a cave?” He snaps out of his thoughts and realizes he hasn’t exactly been listening.

Focus, Steve, come on.

“It's not a--” Dustin takes a deep breath, like he’s steeling himself against Steve’s unrelenting stupidity, “You have a shit imagination. It’s actually a--”

“Language,” he says, but Dustin continues like he hasn’t heard him.

“--projection, that the god, a metaphysical being, is using as camouflage.”

Steve nods, starting to get it..

“So," says Steve tentatively, because he's probably all wrong again, "the monster they’re looking for--”

“They've been surrounded by it the whole goddamn time!" Dustin exclaims, practically jumping over the counter in excitement.

"Language!" Steve says pointlessly, because no one listens to him, and Dustin barrels onward.

"Pretty cool, right? I can't use the idea anytime soon, since Eddie's our main DM now and we're in the middle of a campaign, but I was thinking I would run a short campaign later. I can’t tell anybody else obviously, because it’ll spoil the whole thing. What do you think of it?"

Steve looks at him, thinking. Dustin frowns.

"You're giving me that look, like you don't actually get it," says Dustin, an unimpressed tilt to his head.

"No, the idea is awesome, it's just… I'm hung up on the allegory. You said they're in a cave--"

"For the last time, it’s a metaphorical--"

"I know! A metaphorical cave. And they can only see the shadows. But they're all in the cave together. So… Can't they see each other?"

Dustin stares at him, and then puts his palm over his face.

"Can they-- that’s not the point! You know what? Forget it. I came here for a reason. Texas Chainsaw Massacre, hand it over."

"Oof, that one's for eighteen and up, kiddo." He’s totally gonna give it to him; he has to have some kind of leverage to make Dustin like him as much as he likes Eddie. And he's got a massive soft spot for Dustin. But he has to at least pretend he’s not a pushover.

"What's the point of you? You don't play D&D, you don't understand Plato, you won't rent to me even though Suzie is literally only gonna be in town for one week and she wants to--"

"Wait, Suzie's coming to town? Really? You only mentioned it a billion times. That should make me even less likely to give this to you; isn't she not allowed to watch this kind of stuff?"

"That's why it's imperative that she does it next week, while she’s got the chance!"

"Then you don't need it 'til next month anyway."

"I'm supposed to pre-watch it and make sure it's not too scary," he admits.

"Is that why you're playing hooky on a Wednesday?"

“Schools over.”

“It wasn’t when you first came in here.”

"Steeeeve," he whines. "Come on, you're being a bully. To a child. A poor, innocent child."

Steve rolls his eyes fondly. "Take it. But I swear, if you don't return it before I have to do inventory this time, I'm gonna be upset."

“I swear.”

“Just don’t bring it for the movie night, your mom would kill me."

He and Dustin watch movies together at Dustin's house, sometimes. Dustin's mom insists that Steve 'babysit' him even though he's practically an adult now, so it's more like hanging out than anything.

“Uh, that reminds me," says Dustin.

"What's up?"

"Don't be mad but… Turns out Mike's parents are having people over, and tomorrow is the only night Eddie can do D&D at his place, so…"

So no movie night. Steve shrugs.

It's not a big deal. Dustin doesn't know it's his birthday. He hadn’t hid it on purpose, but he hadn't made it a point to say anything, either, because... this year’s just been a lot for all of them. He hadn’t wanted to make a big thing of it.

"I get it, you nerds have to prioritize, right? I'll drive you."

"Thanks, Steve." He hesitates. "You could come, you know."

"I don't know," he hedges. "I’m not technically invited, so…”

“Eddie specifically mentioned your name, next to the words 'standing invitation.'"

This again. He's pretty sure Eddie only tolerates Steve at games at all because he brings snacks when he come to pick up Dustin. And because he feels like he has, like, a debt to Steve for carrying him out of the Upside Down, or something. Steve's told him it's fine, he would have done it for anyone, but Eddie still insists on being weirdly nice to him now. Even though Steve still doesn’t totally get D&D.

He sighs. "I'll come. I guess."

"Why do you sound like you hate it? You never leave the house anymore, dude, I thought you'd be happy to come hang out."

"I leave the house," he says defensively.

"No, you don't. And Eddie thinks you’re avoiding him.”

“I’m not! I rented him a movie the other day.” He’d come in and looked at nothing for like twenty minutes, and when Steve had finally asked if he needed something, he grabbed It’s a Wonderful Life, which Steve cannot imagine he actually watched in the middle of April. “Which he didn’t return, by the way, so when you see him, tell him he has a late fee.” Eddie comes in a lot to rent the most random movies ever. But hey, the customer is always right.

“Alternate suggestion, you could tell him. At D&D. Tomorrow.”

"Whatever. I'll come."

“Cool. I’ll see you tomorrow!”

“Bye.”

Steve looks at the clock again. 3:32. Soooo close to the day's end. He should call Max and see if she wants him to drop by with food before he goes home.

He unzips his bag and retrieves the walkie Dustin gave him last year. The things are surprisingly useful.

"Max?" he says into the receiver. He waits.

No response.

“Max? Over?” he tries. “Do you want food?”

Still nothing.

She's probably just fine. Just busy. There’s been no sign of Vecna in a year, he has nothing to worry about. A teenager not answering calls, that’s normal. How fucked is it that he has to worry about this stuff? That there is a small but legitimate chance that Max is dead or worse?

Sometimes it hits him, how unfair it is what those kids have gone through. They’re just kids, they should be partying and dating and stuff, not attending physical therapy and having nightmares over the shit show that happened last year.

Max is fine, he tells himself. Totally. The clock reads 3:36.

He sighs again, tacks up a poster that has fallen-- they’re advertising the hell out of the The Gate movie, it looks like stupid crap-- and looks through some movies, trying to decide what to put on while he stands here waiting for customers that will never come.

It's nearly 4 PM, nobody comes in after 4 PM.

The carpet is fascinating today. So… dirty. The stain in the corner is like one of those ink blot tests. He can make it look like a killer clown or a weird dog, depending on how he squints. He taps his fingers along the VHS cases. Jaws, that one was pretty interesting. Big shark. You know, awesome. Night of the Living Dead, he hasn’t seen that. Field of dreams, he always liked that one. It was fun to try and identify all the baseball players he recognized from his childhood: Reds and White Sox players, Smoky Joe and Hal Chase, and… anyway, none of his friends like that movie. They think it’s stupid jock shit, which, yeah, okay.

Ugh. Why does he have to be here? It’s Wednesday, nobody comes in on Wednesdays.

Harold and Maude. He hasn’t seen that one, but Eddie loves it. Must be some kind of dark violent metal shit then, it’s got a bunch of weapons and stuff on the front. He had mentioned it one time, but not explained it much. These are some seriously random movies. That's probably Robin’s doing, she likes rearranging stuff when she’s bored, and Keith never notices.

It's Steve’s birthday.

He should go check on Max after work.

He goes through the 'S' section and picks something at random. Slaughterhouse Five. The title isn’t promising, but there’s a graphic of dumb looking aliens on the back, so it can’t be that bad. It’s only fun to watch these on the TV here when Robin is there to give commentary. Maybe he’ll watch it at home, and if it’s boring he’ll play tapes of old games, or something.

His shift is nearly over, anyway, so he starts tidying a little, wiping down the counter. Dustin's paper still sits there, with its little cave drawing. He should probably toss it, but there’s the off chance that Dustin will call him later saying it’s crucial to his game, so he folds it up and puts it in his pocket to bring to D&D the next day.

He tries calling Max from the phone in the back. Still no answer. She's probably fine, he tells himself, and his clammy hands continue to wipe the counters. In the wet shine of the cleaner fluid, he can see his reflection.

God, does he really look like that?

He's got dark circles under his eyes, his brows pinched, and his hair is in desperate need of a cut. He purses his lips. He didn't used to look like that, he used to really work hard for his appearance. It's just these last few months. That's all it is.

He tilts his head to see the side, and his face warps in the reflection. Maybe he could be anything if you looked at him from the right angle. What are those ink blot things called again? He can't remember. His head gets so foggy sometimes, and he forgets things.

He shakes it off, takes out the little spiral notebook from his pocket. He opens it to his latest page, which is half covered in scribbles, a grocery list, and dates he's supposed to pick up Robin and Dustin.

Don't forget tomorrow! he writes in the margins.

He uses it to write down things that are important, because his memory isn’t what it used to be. The thing is pretty handy, sometimes.

3:40. God. Close enough. He’s gonna close up early.

_________

He pulls up to Max's trailer and tries to calm himself. The light is on inside, that's a good sign.

He knocks on the door, trying not to come across as too frantic. It’s opened, and he sighs with relief.

"What do you want?" asks Max, with her typical politeness.

"Just checking in. Where's your walkie?"

"I don't know, probably under my bed." She plops down in a chair.

"You need to keep it on you, what if someone calls and it's important? I even called the phone, why didn't you pick up?"

"I was busy," she says. "I got this home console for games and me and El have been trying to set it up. Plus, my mom's here, she might have been using the phone."

"Right, yeah." He forgot about that. Her mom has been around a lot more these past months. "How are you doing?"

Steve had gotten into a habit of coming over and helping out when needed. She had always protested a little, about him doing her laundry or dishes, because she's old enough to do them herself, but it hadn't sat right with him, for her to be alone.

With her mom more involved now, Steve's not sure when she needs him over for meals and laundry and stuff as much. But it's cool.

"I'm okay."

"Need dinner?" He wants to keep his eyes glued to her at all times. Sometimes it feels like she's gonna start floating away again.

"Actually, no,” she says. “Not tonight."

"Oh. Okay. Is there anything else you need? Like, I can go to the store and come back or--"

"Steve! You're smothering me!"

"Sorry," he says.

"It's okay. Look, I… thanks, but I'm okay, seriously. My mom's cooking." She smiles. “I’m okay.”

“Cool, yeah, I was just checking,” he says super duper casually, and not at all like he was scared out of his mind.

“Max,” says El, appearing out of nowhere. That kid is so quiet she could be a ninja. A psychic ninja. He wonders if she knows what a ninja is. Probably so. Seems like something Mike would have gone over with her, he loves that stuff. Steve waves at her, and El waves back. “The TV is connected to the cables.”

"So, I should get to dinner," she asks, clearly wanting to get back to her game thing. “Did you want--”

"I'll leave you to it. Bye guys."

As he’s heading toward his car, he spots Wayne Munson sitting outside, drinking a beer on the steps. He averts his eyes, hoping the man doesn’t see him.

He totally does see him, but Steve makes it to the car fast enough that it doesn't matter.

He goes home, heart still kind of racing over the whole incident. He tells himself over and over, nobody’s in danger, everything’s fine. Still, he keeps a hand on his keys and a walkie in his back pocket, and he already knows it’s gonna be a bad night.

Steve fumbles with the keys, and stops at the door.

There's an envelope for him inside the mail door. From mom and dad.

He hopes it's just a card. His parents are pretty good about sending him birthday gifts every year, but it's always got like a million strings attached, so he’d almost rather they not.

He opens it. It's a card, and their names are stamped, not even signed. It's got money in it, that's nice. How generous. Dicks.

Steve kicks off his shoes in the front hall and closes the door behind him, a loud click against the thick silence.

He’s got another month before he needs to move out and find his own place. He doesn’t even wanna think about that right now. He could have afforded it if dad hadn’t revoked his college money seeing as he's not going to college. But with only the tiny amount he’s saved from Family Video, he’s gonna be living in his car for sure.

There's something at the corner of his eye, as if it's hiding but trying to see him, and the hairs prickle on the back of his neck, spotting it in his periphery. He breathes quietly, waiting for it to move.

When he turns, it's only his mother's precious vase. From the corner of his eye it looks like a person, every single time.

For some reason the group never wants to come over here. Between the creepy emptiness and the vases creeping around corners, who knows why!

Well, he won’t have to deal with it much longer.

He eats, then goes to change out of his uniform in the bathroom. He strips off his uniform shirt and refuses to look in the mirror, at the dusky purple scars across his sides.

Dustin is right, he doesn’t leave the house anymore. Not even to see his friends, unless they need something, much less to go on dates like he used to. Probably for the best, he doesn’t know how he would explain these to anyone. He looks at himself in the mirror, and when did he get so tired looking? When you take away the hairspray, who the hell is even under there?

He's being dramatic. It's fine, he's fine. The others had it way, way worse. Eddie and Max had almost died. So Steve doesn't feel like going out much anymore. So what? In comparison to what everyone else has been through it's nothing.

He shakes it off. He knew it was gonna be a bad night. He needs to get out of his head.

He finishes changing and puts on the movie they were supposed to watch for movie night. He'll find something else to do tomorrow night instead, maybe see if Rob is free. Slaughterhouse 5. From the description on the back, it's about a guy who goes to war, so he won’t have to pay too much attention to get the plot. War movies are all kinda the same.

It starts in the middle.

"How hard is it to rewind the tape before you return it? Assholes…"

The only sound is the tape rewinding and the quiet crackle of static from the television screen.

"Steve?" says a voice, and he jumps. The walkie talkie. "Over."

"Yeah, I'm here."

"Say 'over.' Over."

"What do you need? Is something wrong?"

"I was making sure you're still gonna take me to D&D tomorrow. It’s at four."

"I said I would, didn't I?" At least his-- the kids, they have families of their own-- still need him for rides, and movie money and stuff. Not that he has much of it anymore, now that he's cut off, but they don't know about that.

“Cool. If you don't want to come you don't have to. I thought you and Eddie were tolerating each other now, but if something happened… "

Dustin keeps asking the same question indirectly.

He actually doesn't hate Eddie, despite what Dustin might think. He admires him in a way. He's everything Steve isn't. He seems so… confident in himself. Free, because he knows what people think of him and he does whatever he wants. Robin told him that it meant a lot to her in sophomore year when he jumped up on the lunch table and ranted about being gay.

He did that a lot, in high school, yelling about shit from the lunch table when he was pissed about something. He never just went along with things, if he thought they were wrong.

And he has, like, interests. He doesn't just have the appearance of coolness, he's actually cool.

Really cool.

Steve’s little crush on Eddie is nothing. It’s stupid.

"Nothing happened." He just hasn't been to Eddie's trailer since that first time, and it's weird. "I'll… I'll go."

"Steve… I don't wanna be the one to ask this, but are you doing okay?”

“Why wouldn't I be?”

“You seemed kind of zoned out earlier. It seemed like you didn't want to come.”

“Nah, I was just ready to clock out. Plus, you know I don't get D&D.”

“Yeahhh,” says Dustin. They’re quiet for a moment, and Dustin speaks, words measured carefully. “It’s just, you haven't been around much, so something's up with you then you should just say so, because I swear--"

"Nothing's up! I promise!"

"That's what Max used to say right before she got taken."

That makes him feel like a dick. Of course they'd be worried. He thinks of Max, who still struggles with so many things, and Eddie who is still in physical therapy after being torn to shreds.

“Hey, nothing like that would target me. Vecna fed on people's brains, right? Aren’t you the one always saying I don’t have one?”

He's kidding, but he's also serious. Steve doesn’t have trauma like Max, so Vecna wouldn’t have anything to feed on in his head. Just minor sadness like breakups and stuff, which are probably like junk food for a dark wizard, not a healthy meal... If that’s how that works.

And if Vecna did target him… would it be so bad? Better him than any of his friends, they all have families who need them to be safe.

"Seriously, I'm good. When have you ever needed to check on me before?"

"Steve--"

“Hold on, Robin’s here. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

Dustin is quiet.

"Did you hear me?"

"Yeah. Okay. My mom says hi. Over.”

Dustin’s mom says hi. She's always insisting that Dustin needs an older male figure in his life. Robin's parents have him over for dinner because they want their daughter to have a boyfriend, Eddie invites him to hang out at the park because he needs to feel like he’s paying off his imagined life debt. They all go out to the mall or the park, and sometimes Steve is invited too. Less often, now that there’s not an immediate threat to the world that they need to gather up the troops for, but… sometimes.

At the end of the day, though, they all go home to their families, and Steve comes back here.

He plops down on the couch in front of the TV and starts the movie, which is finally at the actual beginning, and…

…The movie doesn’t make any goddamn sense. This is why he doesn’t watch time travel movies. He needs someone to explain this thing to him, preferably with diagrams and clear illustrations.

He turns off the movie. He considers putting on some old baseball or basketball tapes, but he’s too jumpy. It's too loud. If something tries to get in the house he won't be able to hear it over the television. Without the background noise, he can hear nothing at all, just a giant, empty house and something could come in at any time. Nothing would, of course, because again, it’s been over a year, and maybe monsters aren’t even real anymore.

But it’s not up to Steve. It’s up to Steve's stupid, stupid brain.

He goes to bed, puts on his night light, and sits there, with his bat on one side and a pistol he’d bought three months back on the other in arms reach.

He considers calling Robin. He's not gonna tell her about any of it, she'll insist on coming over and making a big deal out of it, and she'll mess up her sleep schedule, and it’s really not necessary.

Something creaks, and he takes up the bat. Probably just the roof. He does this a lot of nights, sue him. It's not hurting anybody. Can't hurt to be safe.

He makes his way to his room, checking behind him often as he moves to his room and closes the door behind him. He turns on his stupid nightlight. He checks the tapes, makes sure he has everyone's, his own placed in the player at the ready.

It’s probably the fact that it’s the middle of the night that’s getting to him, but he wishes someone were here. Anybody. Robin, he could still call Robin, but… no, she’s busy tonight. He doesn’t wanna be an inconvenience over something like this. He’s freaked over nothing.

He wouldn't say it, but sometimes he misses the danger. It made things so simple.There's a nasty looking creature? Point, shoot. But the silhouette of a vase? The silence in his house? What is he supposed to do with something so stupid?

He puts his back against the headboard, and shuffles, trying to get comfortable. Something falls from his pocket. That wad of notebook paper from earlier. He picks it up, and looks at the diagram.

Even if Dustin thinks he’s an idiot, he thinks he gets it. The metaphor. Like, he and the others know about this other world that’s outside their own, that no one else knows about, so it’s kind of like that, isn’t it? Except in the metaphor the stuff outside is supposed to be better than what's in the cave, not worse. if he had never learned about the Upside Down, things would be different. Better, probably. Maybe the kids wouldn't have to live their lives with so much baggage, and he wouldn't need to protect them all the time, there wouldn't be anything to protect them from.

He looks out the window, at the swimming pool, so deep and blue, and sighs. Things would be better, if he’d never left his chains.

…His chains that he’s been in since he was a baby.

He can’t get over that part. Seriously, they took babies and chained them in a cave and, what, left them? What kind of sick person comes up with that metaphor?!

Whatever, Dustin hasn't called to ask for it back. He wads it up into a ball and throws it at the trash can. It bounces off the edge and rolls into the corner. Typical.

“Another win for Harrington,” he mutters, and grips the bat tighter.

He finally gets to sleep around four in the morning, and he dreams.

_________

He sits at the edge of the canyon, looking out. It was a long climb, and he's out of breath.

He closes his eyes, breathing in the dry air. Nothing like Hawkins. He’s safe here at the edge.

A hand touches his shoulder, and he looks up. Robin’s hair blows across her face, and she smiles.

“Ready to go back?”

“Just about.”

The canyon is deep and the sky is so blue.

He shuffles closer, sneaker tips over the edge, bits of dust crumbling down into the mouth of the canyon. There doesn't seem to be a bottom, it's just dark. He wonders if anyone has ever explored down there.
He should be careful, here. The wind is strong, and a gust could knock him over.

And so what? Would it be so bad?

He would be gone, wouldn't he. And he doesn't even know if there's a bottom, or if he would fall forever.

Robin is here. Someone would hold him back. Or maybe that's just a story he's telling himself.

Steve inches closer to the edge, and stands there, just looking, for a long, long time.

_________

"What are you looking for, Steve? I'll help you find it, you've been down there for, like, ever," says Robin, swinging her legs where she sits on the countertop reading. Steve yanks open yet another drawer in the refrigerator one-handed, trying to balance the flour in his other arm.

"Eggs," he says distractedly, yawning. "They're behind something."

"You good? You sound exhausted."

"It's allergies. What's that?" He asks, looking at the book, trying to change the subject. He hadn't really slept well.

"Hm? Oh, just dying a million times a minute over here. Nancy loaned me this book on cell regeneration.”

“Cool.”

“It is cool. It’s crazy stuff. Like, did you know you don't die once, you die like a bazillion times? Your cells regenerate all the time, and in seven years it's a new you. The version of you that you were yesterday isn't here anymore. Crazy right?"

"What got you on that?"

"It's for our bio course."

Our bio course, Steve's brain can't help but whisper jealously. Her and Nancy, going to college. Taking advanced bio because they both got credits for the intro course in high school. Leaving Hawkins like they're best friends now.

He cracks the egg over the mixing bowl, and reaches for the second.

He thinks about it sometimes. What it would be like if he was smart and motivated and overall better. Daydreams about it at work all the time, how it would feel to be able to talk about Dustin’s science fair project and get what he's talking about, or read those books Eddie is into and bring it up with him. His parents patting him on the back when he graduates college with Robin and goes to work at the firm. Our bio class.

"Cracking those a little hard, huh? What is this, an egg interrogation?" says Robin, and Steve realizes he hasn't said anything.

"That's really cool, Rob. The cells thing," reaching under the cabinet to get the mixer out and set it up.

"How do you know where all your parents' cooking stuff is?"

"What, you don't help your parents cook?" asks Steve.

"Yeah, but I don't use fancy stuff like that."

"Like a mixer?! That's basic kitchenware!"

Robin shrugs, and doesn't lift a finger to help in the process. Probably for the best, she's a disaster in the kitchen. He plugs in the mixer.

“This takes forever. You could’ve totally gotten store bought.”

“They wouldn’t taste the same,” he explains, yelling over the sound of the mixer as Robin sits on the counter, still contributing nothing to the cookie-making process.

“Well, if I was Eddie, you’d have to fight me off with a broom.”

He squints at her. “What the hell do you mean by that?”

“That he’s gonna fall in love with you when he tries these,” she says, licking more dough off her fingers.

“One: You’re gonna get salmonella. Two, Eddie doesn’t-- he isn’t, like--”

“Gay?" says Robin, voice too loud as the mixer stops suddenly. "Steve, have you seen the things he checks out at the video store? Scratch that, have you looked at him, or listened to anything he's said, ever?”

“I know he's gay," says Steve. He was there for that particular table rant. "I mean he’s not interested in me like that.”

“He’s obsessed with you.”

“Just because he invited me over doesn’t mean he’s obsessed.”

“You’re still going on about the life debt thing, aren't you?” she groans.

“He hated me before that, so I don’t see why else he would change his views around just like that, and he still makes fun of me all the time. He’s always trying to get a rise out of me.”

“Like what?”

“Like, the other day he called me ‘sweetie,’ like he wanted me to get mad.”

The sarcastic pet names, delivered teasingly like he thinks Steve would be offended at the implications. Like he's daring him to say anything, constantly trying to prove that Steve is the same person he was in high school all along.

“Steeeeve,” says Robin. “I can’t do this. Oh my god. And you're making him homemade cookies.”

“They're for everyone. It’s the first time I’ve been to his place since before we really knew each other--"

"Since he was a dick you mean."

"--and I want to make a good impression, okay? He thinks I'm a jerk and he has every right to think that.”

“No one thinks that!”

“I just…” He gesticulates wildly, trying to get a point across that he’s not sure how to make.

The others are making their way. Robin’s talking about… about college, Nancy is going to become a journalist, the kids are graduating soon with 4.0s all around. Eddie’s band is apparently starting to amass a small fanbase even outside of Hawkins.

Steve… Steve has a month to move out, and there’s no way he’s ever getting into a college. Hell, he’s never getting a job that involves more brain power than ‘get yelled at by customers.’

He checks his watch.

“Shit. there’s no time to cook these, I’m supposed to pick up Dustin in ten minutes. I bet Eddie has an oven, I’ll cook them when I get there. You can have the rest of the dough, but don’t eat too much of it, I’m… I'm not kidding about the salmonella.”

“Okay, mom," she scoffs, sticking her nasty fingers back in the moment she thinks he isn't looking.

_________

Steve pulls up at Dustin’s house and knocks on the door. It swings open, and Ms. Henderson greets him with a smile.

“Steve!”

“Hi, Ms. Henderson.”

“I’ve told you a hundred times to call me Claudia,” she reminds him, pinching his cheek. “Thank you for taking Dusty. He’s been working on his science fair this morning, that’s why there’s all this mess in here. You could help him if you want!”

He laughs. He has no idea how to do a science fair. He’s not even sure he did his own when he was in school.

“I didn’t think you were coming in today, since he has his game and all. Figured you would just wait in the car, what a nice surprise. You know you’re always welcome here.”

“That’s very nice of you to say.”

Dustin speeds around the corner, past his mother and crashes into Steve.

“Woah!”

“What are you waiting for? Let’s go!” Dustin says, and rushes for the car.

“That’s my cue,” says Steve. He waves to Ms. Henderson and grabs his keys.

_________

Steve parks, and Dustin jumps out of the car and runs up to the door. Steve grabs the groceries and begins the trek up to Eddie’s trailer door. He opens it with a creak.

“Well, if it isn't Steve! An unexpected guest!” says Eddie.

Was that sarcasm? He was expected, wasn’t he?

“Did Dustin not tell you I was coming?”

“Only just now,” he shrugs.

Jesus, Dustin--

This is awkward. Just because they'd gone through something horrible together, just because they see each other when Steve takes the kids around, it doesn't mean Eddie wants to hang out with him. He should just leave. He should, right? Yeah, he’s gonna leave.

“I’m here to drop off Dustin," he says.

Eddie points at his bags. “What have you got there?”

“I brought food?”

Eddie leans over, peering into a bag. “This is… dry noodles and cookie dough.”

Shit. Now it’s obvious that he meant to cook it here. Nobody just drops off uncooked ingredients. Ugh. Any excuse he gives is gonna be so transparent. He’s trapped in the maw of social obligation.

Suck it up, Harrington.

"I thought I'd make dinner for you guys," he concedes, because he guesses he's gonna stay here and do this thing now.

"Oh," says Eddie.

"Sorry," he says reflexively. "Did you guys already eat?"

"No, we haven't even set up the game yet. I didn't even think about dinner," Eddie says sheepishly. "Come in."

He goes to the kitchen and starts dinner. It’s just spaghetti and meatballs, nothing too fancy. He can hear them talking in the other room.

"The beast descends from the treeline, having seen you with its wide, eagle-like eyes…”

Once the pot is on he goes to the other room as he waits for it to boil.

"Roll for initiative.”

The water bubbles, and he tosses in the pasta. He minds the sauce as it cooks, adding in the spices, and stirring. It’s almost hypnotic, the rhythm of cooking, in a way that Steve finds comforting. He remembers one of the first times he made himself this recipe of spaghetti, he ate it for weeks. Ate so much of it that he ended up getting sick, and then hated it. Too much of a good thing.

When it’s done, he brings it out on plates, and takes them two by two into the other room to serve.

“Thank you," says Eddie. "Looks amazing, dude.”

Is he being serious? It's just spaghetti.

Eddie puts Steve on edge sometimes, his abrupt shift from snarky passive aggressive comments when they first met, to constant friendliness ever since Eddie left the hospital. He's not sure what to take at face value, or what has a secret meaning he's supposed to be reacting to.

Steve flutters around, coming in with dinner and then taking everybody's plates, and then he does the dishes because he forgot the paper plates so they had to use Eddies, and it is Eddies D&D event so normally he would say Eddie should do the dishes, but Eddie didn’t actually ask him to make dinner, so it would be rude no to, right? Yeah, it would.

"Don't you ever just sit down for a minute? You're making me nervous.”

“For real, man. Come on, let your hair down," says Jeff.

"Hair? Down? Steve would die if he had to give up hair spray."

He laughs. "Don't diss the hairspray, show some respect.”

"Come sit," Eddie says, "did you even eat anything?"

"Didn't get the chance yet." He moves to sit on the corner stool.

"Here, why don't you come sit at the table?"

"I don't wanna interrupt."

"You're totally interrupting more by talking," says Mike, rolling his eyes.

"Yeah, I guess you're right," says Steve. “I… there’s not enough chairs,” he says awkwardly.

“Oh. Right.” Eddie drags up a chair, and Steve sits, feeling like he’s a girl on a date having his chair pulled out for him.

“Thanks,” he mutters.

He's not sure if he and Eddie are friends. Steve has gone to see him a lot when he was in the hospital, but Eddie was literally a captive audience, so he backed off after that. They still hang out, just… less.

This is so weird. This is why Steve doesn't do this kind of nerdy shit.

“What do we do? Shit shit shit, it’s gonna kill us,” says Gareth.

“You guys could train it," Steve suggests, pointing at the little figurine they'd placed on the table earlier. “It’s that eagle thing right? It’s cute, maybe it’s friendly.”

They burst into laughter.

“That is not gonna work, man,” says Jeff. “Good try though.”

The game continues, and Steve watches for a while, trying to get a grasp of it. He thinks he gets it, sort of. Roleplay doesn't appeal to him. Why make a character if it’s just gonna end up dying, and then you’ve gotta start all over? Eddie kills Mike constantly, Steve knows that because he never shuts up about it, getting killed, and then making basically the same character, then killed again, over and over. Just seems like a pointless game.

Eddie waves his hands wildly, doing voices for his characters. Confident and free. He’s in his element, and Steve… loves it. Every time he’s sat in on one of these games he’s seen it. Eddie has never once been anything but his full, passionate self. Eddie is nothing but life. His home, full of mugs and warm decoration, cluttered with the things he loves. He’s larger than life. He’s like the polar opposite of Steve.

He’s brave for that, in a place like Hawkins.

Steve watches the line of his throat, and looks away shamefully. He doesn't have the right to think about Eddie that way. It’s not like if he makes a good enough impression it’ll be like in stories, and Eddie is gonna look over one day and see that Steve is what he wanted all along. Yeah right. Lifes not a fairytale.

“So, uh I had a question about the-- oh, wait. Talking. Sorry.”

“No, go ahead,” says Eddie.

“What are these numbers?”

“Those are modifiers. Basically, you roll, and then you get a bonus.”

Steve stares at him blankly.

"Don’t even bother.” Dustin laughs. "I was trying to explain earlier and he had that exact same look."

Steve chews on his lip. This kind of stuff doesn’t come to him naturally the way it does to them.

“Anyone can get it, Henderson,” says Eddie. “Steve is just--”

"Stupid?" Mike pipes up.

"Hey, he's got redeeming qualities! Look at him, he's buff!" Lucas defends. He turns to look at Steve up and down. "Buff-ish. And he can cook! Defend yourself, Steve!"

“Actually, I better go check on the cookies,” he says, too loud to his own ears, as he pushes back his chair. He sniffs the air. “Shit, I think they're burning."

He stands and runs to the kitchen. Stupid, stupid, stupid. His first time at Eddie’s in forever and he’s screwing it all up.

His head throbs, probably a migraine coming on. This day was supposed to go well, he planned it all out. Damn it.

And then, like a dream, the pain fades away.

"Stevie? You okay?"

He blinks, coming back to the present. He's sitting in the chair again, how did he get back to his seat? He's never lost time before. "Yeah, I'm… good."

Everyone is looking at him with concern.

He sniffs the air. Smoke. Cookies! He was making cookies, before he zoned out.

"I'll get it," says Eddie.

"No, I can--"

"Steve, you've been waiting on us all night. You just sit there and look pretty and I'll get it. Guys, ten minute break."

"But I was about to do my attack," whines Mike.

"Tell it to the hand!" Eddie says as he leaves the room.

"Eddie never does breaks," says Steve, baffled. They’ve complained about this many times.

"Yeah, not for any of us. It's so unfair."

"Literally nepotism."

"You don't even know what that word means, Mike."

"Yes I fucking do!"

"Language," says Steve automatically.

"Whatever. Sorry," says Mike. Steve blinks. Did Mike just actually apologize?

Eddie comes back in with the cookies, which are clearly burnt.

"I'm sorry, it's all my fault," says Steve. "I guess I got caught up watching the game and forgot."

"Hey. Breathe. It's all good." He presses a soft kiss to his forehead.

He's never done that before either.

Steve's heart sinks. Eddie's very physical, always climbing on people and throwing arms around his friends shoulders, but he's never been affectionate like that with Steve.

“You good, sugar?”

Of course the sarcastic pet names make a reappearance. He probably thinks Steve is going to flinch away, and then he'll say it's because King Steve hates queers, or something. Steve doesn't react, unwilling to subject himself to the trap.

"Real funny," he says blankly. “Are you doing this because I fucked up the cookies? It’s not cool.”

Eddie gives him a strange look. "I'm serious, it's just cookies, it's okay. You didn't even have to make cookies for us at all, so… thanks."

"You're welcome?"

"Can we get back to the game?" asks Gareth. "We spent all day doing birthday stuff, Steve's probably just tired from all the attention."

Steve blinks, not sure what he means by that. He opens his mouth to ask, but by then they've all gone back to playing D&D.

_________

When the game’s over, Steve is almost relieved. Now he’ll have some time to go home and call up Robin to talk about the bizarre happenings of the D&D game today.

As he goes to the door, Dustin in tow, Lucas asks a question.

“Can we come over to your house and play video games?”

"Sure," he says, trying not to sound too excited. Play it cool. He hasn't had anybody over besides Robin in… wow, maybe a year. Actually, maybe longer.

"Can we stay the night?"

"Only if you promise not to be loud first thing in the morning."

“Promise,” says Dustin, crossing his heart.

Yeah, they totally will be.

_________

After a few hours, he’s spent. He decides to get to bed, it’ll help him make up for his previous nights lack of sleep, and that’s supposed to be good for his headaches.

He says goodnight to everyone and gets into bed. Not five minutes later, the door creaks open.

"Guys, I said you could spend the night, not that you could harass me in my sleep."

"It's me," says a voice, and then someone is sliding into bed next to him and pressing up against his back.

Steve tenses, opening his mouth to say something, but not knowing what to say.

"Eddie," he says. This is awkward. Maybe he… somehow thinks it's someone else in the bed? It's improbable, since he's literally at Steve’s house and had seen him leave toward his room, but he can't think of another reason. "um. It's Steve."

"I'm aware."

"You're, like, um… cuddling me."

"Yeah," says Eddie. "And you're, like, um, super cuddly. So it all works out pretty good for us both."

"But you're-- you're-- cuddling. With me."

"Yeah. You don't want to?"

"Are you high?"

"What? No! The kids are here. I don't smoke in front of them."

Steve has definitely seen him smoke in front of them. "Since when?"

"Since you told me to 'be a good example.'"

"What's going on with you guys tonight?"

"What do you mean?"

"You're being weird, I don't know. Like, too nice."

"Oh, is that all? Officer, arrest me, I was being too nice to my boyfriend."

He freezes. He's about to reply when there's a knock on the door.

"There’s a phone call for you," says Lucas.

Steve gets up, relieved to exit the bizarre conversation with Eddie, and goes to the phone.

"Hello?"

"Hey, it’s Nancy.”

“Oh. Hi." Nancy doesn't speak to him anymore unless it's something important. "What's up?"

“I was wondering if we're still on for tomorrow."

"What's tomorrow?"

"You forgot?”

“I guess I did. Sorry.”

“Breakfast, Steve,” she says in a fond, exasperated tone he hasn’t heard in a long time. “Barb was thinking--"

"Don’t," he says before he even fully processes what she's saying. “Um.”

"What?"

Maybe she meant to say someone else's name. That's it. It was a slip of the tongue, and she didn't even realize she said it. "Sorry just… You said… Barb?"

"Yeah. She's here now, if you wanted to say hi."

He doesn't know what to say to that.

He opens his mouth and closes it again, searching for a response. "I never would have thought you of all people would joke about that."

"Hi Steve!" says a voice in the background of the call.

It's been years since he heard that voice.

The edge of panic draws up on him. Something occurs to him. "Who the hell is this?"

"It's Nancy and Barb? Is your phone having problems or something? It seems like you aren't hearing me right.”

"Let me call you back."

He can't breathe. Silently, he presses the phone to the receiver and stands against the wall, willing the cool tile to bring him back to himself. Nancy could be blunt sometimes, and hurtful, but she had never been that cruel. She had never, ever joked about Barb's death. Hell, the two of them couldn't even talk about her at all, last time he checked.

So this is something else. Either that was not Nancy, or Nancy is in the room with a monster, and she is in serious danger.

The thought sobers him, enough to put him into the mindset he finds himself in so often, of heightened fear and with it, a focus and clarity. If it isn't Nancy, talking won't do any good. If it is, she needs a warning. Either way, he needs to get over to her house immediately. There’s no time to waste.

He dials the number again, eyes scanning his periphery, trying to remember where he left his bat and his pistol. He hasn’t seen them since this morning, and what an idiot he is, that he didn’t look for them before now.

"Hell--"

"Nance? That thing in your house is not Barb. I don't know what it's told you, but you need to get out of the house. It’s manipulating your brains. Do you have your guns nearby? Can you get to them before it sees you? I'll be there in twenty minutes but you might have to defend until--"

"Guns? What are you talking about?"

"Your fucking stash of-- Oh. Is she listening?” he whispers. “Is that why you’re acting like this, it can hear us?"

"Please hand the phone to Eddie."

"No, not until I know you're safe and--”

"The best way to make sure we’re all safe is to let me talk to him. Okay? Trust me.”

He hands the phone to Eddie.

“Okay. Oh. I heard some of it, yeah, I think-- yeah, I can call you back after.” He hangs up, and turns to face Steve. “Stevie, what’s going on?”

"Barbara Holland was on that call,” he says frantically.

“Yeah? She’s hanging out with Nancy.”

“Barb died in 1983."

Eddie frowns, and looks at him like he's crazy. Which is bullshit, because seriously, who the hell didn't know that Barb went missing? Even if he didn't know her personally, it was huge in the news.

"I want you to consider the possibility that you’re having a delusion."

“Don’t patronize me! How do I know you're not one of them?"

Is Vecna possessing dead people now? Is Eddie dead too? What the fuck is going on?

Eddie just looks at him, with this understanding look. "You don't have to believe it. But I think that, on the off chance that what you’re thinking isn’t real, you’ll thank yourself for waiting a while before you do anything drastic, okay baby?"

Baby. There’s another of those pet names that don’t sound how they’re supposed to, less mocking, more sincere.

He could be having a delusion. The doctor hadn't listed that specific symptom when it came to his repeated head trauma, but it's seeming more and more likely. Still, he would rather feel like an idiot later than potentially risk Nancy's life right now.

"I want to go see Barb." He digs around, looking for his pistol. He doesn't see his nail bat anywhere either. "Where the hell is my--"

"Not until you've calmed down a little and drank some water."

"I'm fine."

Eddie takes his wrist gently.

"Your pulse is going crazy right now."

He yanks his wrist away and backs up against the bed, trying to steady his breathing. He can't find his weapons. This is a nightmare.

It occurs to him that Eddie is still standing there, watching him. Pulling away like that was probably pretty rude. Great, not only is he having the most confusing day ever, and either Vecna is back or Steve's hallucinating, but now he's ruining his progress with Eddie too.

“Sorry, I just…” Steve’s face is wet. This is humiliating. “I’ve never done this before,” he lies.
Eddie says nothing.

Still, Eddie persists in sitting beside him silently, and having another person there is… weirdly helpful. Okay. Barb is maybe alive. Something is going on. He can get a grip.

He calms down, after a while, and the panic turns to a dull embarrassment and fear.

"I'm gonna go to the bathroom and wash my face real quick," he mumbles.

Steve shuffles away and Eddie lets him go. He shuts the bathroom door behind him, and stands in front of the sink.

He looks… good. His hair is artfully tousled, and his lips and skin are soft in a way that they are when he's done an hour-long skin care routine, something he hasn't done in ages. He looks more fuckable than he has in months, like he's actually been taking good care of himself.

Whatever, he can add that to the list of bizarre things about today. He turns on the tap and scrubs his face anyway.

He lifts his shirt to dry his face, and he freezes. His sides are tanned and smooth.

The demobat scars are gone.

_________

"So you're from an alternate dimension?" asks Nancy, ever the reporter, getting right into it the moment he stutters his explanation.

Alternate dimension.

The words immediately bring a bad taste to his mouth considering that the only alternate dimension he knows is the Upside Down, but this doesn't seem to be like that at all.

He looks up at the pair, seated on Nancy's bed. Both look fine, healthy, and concerned about him, like they're all friends, instead of whatever he and Nancy were in his Hawkins.

"In my world, there's… differences."

"Me dying, I guess," says Barb.

"There's more than that though," says Steve. "So much more than that, because if you're not dead then that means none of it happened, and--" he looks at Eddie. "What about Chrissy Cunningham? Alive?"

“Yeah, I’ve seen her around.”

“Holy shit.”

"Earlier, when you said that it wasn't Barb here. Like it could have been someone impersonating her. Was that part of it?"

"Yeah. There are things out there… you have no idea. It's crazy. I don't know if it exists here, and I know you're not gonna believe me, but you should probably know."

In case they come here too, he doesn't say.

They wait, looking at him, and he realizes they're… waiting. Listening for what he says next.

That's new, too. They don't usually… It's not like they don't believe the stuff he says, but sometimes when he has an idea they all give him this look, and kind of shut him down, like the time with the song and the Russian codes. It's strange to have everyone's attention like this, like they don't think he's crazy or stupid.

"...I don't even know where to start. There's so much.”

They look at him.

“Okay, so there was another dimension below Hawkins…”

It takes him a long time to tell it all. He’s never been a great story teller, he stumbles around his point, and backtracks several times to re-explain things, but they listen intently the entire way through.

"...And that's it." he looks at his hands, clean of even the little scars from fistfights. A totally fresh start. "Mostly it just sucked."

"Yeah, I fucking bet. Jesus Christ. I'm sorry," says Eddie. "That must have been weighing on you."

Steve, to his mortification, finds his eyes watering, because even though what he went through barely counted compared to the rest of them, it feels good to have someone say it did. It’s all he’s wanted someone to say for a long time.

"Sorry," He gasps. “Barb, I am so sorry. I’ll do anything to fix it. If Nancy and I hadn’t been-- I mean, if I’d been there, I swear I wouldn’t have let that happen to you. I know we don’t get along, but I wouldn’t--”

“We get along fine, Steve,” she says, reaching out to pat his arm. “I know you wouldn’t leave me somewhere dangerous on purpose, you didn’t mean for anyone to get hurt. I forgive you.”

Fuck. That’s it, something inside him breaks and Steve dissolves into tears, muffled into Robin’s chest, apologizing even as he fists his hands into her shirt to bring her closer. How can Barb forgive him just like that, it’s his fault, him and Nancy, and he’s failed so many times after that to keep them all safe. They shouldn’t be holding him like this, it’s not right, but god damn is it everything he wanted. He’s getting snot on Robin’s shirt.

He clears his throat. "Everyone's okay here? Max is okay?"

"Yeah."

"And we're all… happy?"

"Yes,” says Nancy seriously. “We are.”

_________

Barb goes to bed soon after, and he’s left hanging out with Nancy and Eddie after dropping Barb off at home.
Eddie gets up to use the bathroom, and Steve is alone with Nancy.
The nagging question that he wants to ask. Now or never.

“In this world, are… are you and Jonathan together?”

“No," she says casually. "We decided we were better off as friends.”

“Oh. I just wanted to ask if…” Why is this so hard? “Did you and I ever date?”

“Yeah, a while back. We didn’t last, though.”

“Can I ask why?”

“Different goals. You wanted somebody who would have a billion kids with you, I wanted my career… It was a mutual breakup. Why do you ask?”

He taps his fingers on the table. Best to just come out with it. “So you didn’t cheat on me with Jonathan,” he blurts.

“Steve, no. What?” She frowns. “Jonathan and I both respect you too much to do that. Only pieces of shit get cheated on, that’s my rule, and you’re not that.”

“Totally. Yeah, of course, I didn’t mean to imply anything, I…” He should have kept it to himself. It’s a weight off his chest to know, but it doesn’t really matter, does it? They’re not together, so it shouldn’t matter.

“That happened in your world,” she says, eyes widening in realization. She’s so smart. “Steve, I’m--"

“No, it’s okay, I should thank you. I did thank you. You got drunk and told me off for being such a bullshit boyfriend and person, and you were right, and I knew it, so I worked on being better. It was a good thing, I was just… wondering,” he says, and Nancy just looks at him, doesn’t try to talk over him or add on, she just looks at him.

"Do you want a hug?" she asks, just as soon as the thought crosses his own mind, and he nods.

She reaches out and holds him in her wiry arms.

Then Eddie walks in, at the least ideal moment possible. He looks at the two of them, and Steve realizes hes still hugging her, and scrambles away. They’re dating, here, he’s got to think…

“It’s not what it looks like!”

“Uh, it looks like you’re hugging.”

“Yeah, but I wasn't-- we weren't, like, doing anything else.”

Eddie looks at him blankly, and then shrugs.

“Okay. I believe you.”

“You do?”

“Dude, I know you wouldnt cheat on me." he says, grabbing Steve's ass as he passes to sit on the couch.

Steve squeaks and blushes.

“I’m tired. You ready to go home?”

That’s different.

He had always been nervous that Nancy was gonna cheat or leave, just like with every other person he had been with. He's not sure what changed in this world, or with Eddie.

This place is different.

Based on his talk with the others, it's so similar to the original Hawkins, the only difference seems to be that no one here recalls the Upside Down at all, or any of the incidents over the past several years.

Will never went missing. Billy didn't die, he and Max seem to have a decent relationship, actually. Barb didn't die, and she’s happy, she’s a writer now. Steve's scars are gone, so are Eddies. He doesn't have headaches, here, or anything. Everything is perfect.

He just can't believe his luck. It's a second chance at what should have been their lives all along.

He's not gonna waste it.

_________

“They’re cool with it, I swear. Since Joyce is with Hopper, and Wayne and Hopper are friends, which means I’m invited by proxy, that means you’re invited by proxy.”

“I don’t know. That’s a lot of proxy," says Steve, waiting a safe distance from the door.

Eddie knocks on the door, and Ms. Byers answers.

“Oh, hello you two,” she says. “We were just setting the table."

He’s wanted to come in here ever since… Well, it's stupid, but there was this day when he was maybe twelve, and he saw them all eating breakfast together and he always thought that's what a proper family looked like. With yellow-gold light from the ceiling and a big table full of food and people. They were having pancakes in different shapes, because Ms. Byers loved her kids so much. Steve had never had pancakes in different shapes in his life. It seemed a little pathetic to make a thing like that for himself, defeats the whole point.

He sits at the Byers dining room table, but the only available seat is next to Hopper. To his horror, Wayne sits down at his other side. Oh god. He’s going to have to make conversation with them, and they’re gonna give him that look of disapproval.

“Hey kid," Hopper smiles at him like an old friend. "You catch the game last night?"

“Weird weather out," says Wayne, which is more words than he's ever said to Steve in a row.

Steve opens his mouth to try and answer, but is saved as El drops the mashed potatoes and they spill across the floor. Steve jumps to his feet to get a towel.

"I'll get it, Steve," says Ms. Byers.

"No, I'll help "

As he and Ms. Byers clean up, he catches a glance of Els' face, and she looks so confused.

“You alright?” he asks quietly.

“Yes,” she says, blinking.

"Hey, it's okay. You wanna take five and let Ms. Byers clean the mashed potatoes off you? I'll clean up here."

El nods and she and Ms. Byers go toward the bathroom.

“Handled that well, kid,” says Hopper. “You’ll make a damn good dad one day.”

Jonathan speaks up. “Steve’s like the group’s mom, isn’t that right Steve?”

“Hey!”

Will giggles. “You wore that apron yesterday and you looked like a total mom. You should come to all the family dinners.”

Ms. Byers returns from the bathroom with El, clean of mashed potatoes. “Thanks for cleaning the floor,” she says.

“No problem,” says Steve, feeling a little like he’s going to throw up. Is it possible to throw up from being happy?

He takes a bite of meatloaf, and little by little, his shoulders ease. Family dinner. He could get used to this.

God, this place is weird. It doesn’t make any sense. For one, they all want to hang out with him, like, every day. They talk to him like he's this awesome guy, who's smart and attractive and cool and easy to love, and it’s like… they love this better Steve, not him. He’s like this sick shadow of that person, accepting the love meant for someone else who's the way he wants to be, not the way he really is. No effort on his part, just instantly anything he wants, and in a way it doesn’t feel good, because he doesn’t have to do anything to earn it.

_________

Steve sits around the TV with Robin, Lucas and El, eating dip and watching old game tapes.

"Jesus, this ref has gotta get himself together," Steve mutters heatedly.

They nod, and he waits, but none of them make any comments on how he's such a meathead jock, or anything. It's nice.

He checks his watch.

"Oh, man, I’m pretty sure I have a shift today," he says. "Have you seen my uniform?"

"Uniform? You mean your suit?"

"No, my-- I don't even think I have a suit."

Robin opens his closet and gestures inside. There are several suits there, alongside his normal shirts.

Maybe it's an alternate dimension thing.

"I don't work at Family Video?"

"You work at your parents' firm."

"As a lawyer?!"

"No, you're a secretary. You always said you couldn't handle the stress of being a lawyer."

That makes sense, he guesses. His grades had been… not great but never failing, until senior year, and if he'd cut it for college maybe he wouldn't have had to work at Scoops Ahoy, and then he wouldn't have gone on to work at Family video. But then where'd he meet Robin? Maybe they ran into each other around town?

Whatever, what matters is that they met. And his parents apparently hired him, which makes him a little giddy. They'd talked about the possibility for a long time, but one day it just… stopped coming up. What's weird is that they let him work there without forcing him to go to law school. They really don't think much of secretaries, and he knows for certain his dad would laugh at the very idea of a Harrington being in that role.

Second chance, his mind whispers. It'll all be perfect this time.

“We're meeting them for lunch tomorrow with Eddie," she says, turning her attention back to the TV.

"Wait, what?"

_________

He steels himself for lunch. He never thought he could actually make it in his parents' firm, but he must have. Maybe because he took less hits to the head? Was that really all it took?

He doesn’t wanna think about it.

His mom picks the place, it’s a little ways out of Hawkins, and he’s never been here before, though the place feels familiar somehow, as they pass a toll bridge and rows of houses. Vintage, he thinks, as they pass pharmacies and storefronts downtown.

“320 Sycamore," Robin tells him, squinting at the map, "Just a couple more streets."

He pulls into the lot and his heart seems to fill with lead in seeing his parents. He hasn't seen them in what feels like forever. Normally he can't muster anything but irritation at their presence, but they actually look happy as the group approaches.

He pulls up a chair so there's room for all of them. His parents sit on one side of the table, his fathers arm around his moms shoulders, which is more contact than he’s ever seen them make. They’re still smiling, that’s a good sign. He looks down self consciously, smoothing his shirt. He sits down and clears his throat.

“Hey, mom and dad, this is Rob, my best friend, and this is Eddie.” If he’s not brave enough here, he won’t be brave enough anywhere. “My boyfriend."

He waits for whatever is coming next, and his parents…

Laugh.

"We know, son. How are you, Eddie?” asks his dad, standing to shake Eddie's hand.

“I’m doing good, sir."

“Oh. Uh, cool. So this isn’t a surprise to you at all," says Steve, trying to disguise the fact that he has no earthly idea what the fuck is happening.

“No, ever since you two met we figured it was coming sooner or later,” his mom winks knowingly. “You were always so close in high school.”

"We were?" He blinks. "I mean, we were."

They’re not being normal. Could being in an alternate world really change this much? Make his parents cool?

He’s slouching, and they haven’t made a single snarky comment about it.

“Tell the story of how we met again, uh, babe,” says Steve.

"We met looking for Dustin's missing cat in the rain. Then we started talking, and we were at D&D one night and I just looked over and I thought, hey, he's not so bad," Eddie grins easily, like this is a totally plausible story. Surely he’s lying, right?

"How romantic," he says. His collar is too tight. It's hot in here. This place really does look familiar. “What’s this place called?”

“Bedford Falls. Isn’t it charming?”

“Yeah. I thought you guys would be in New York or something, though, you haven’t been at home.”

“We flew in today. We have a lot going on, sure, but we knew we had to take a few days off and come visit our boy.”

"Mom," he says, something in his throat that wasn't there before.

“Couldn’t miss it, son,” says his dad.

_________

“That was the weirdest lunch of my life,” says Steve. “They seemed happy to see us.”

“They always do. They love you so much it’s gross,” Eddie laughs.

Steve feels warm inside. Today was kind of awesome.

Eddie goes through the fridge and pours two glasses of wine, and puts on a record. He switches to a familiar track.

"I’ve gotta change that alarm," says Steve, "I've had this song stuck in my head all day."

"You've been humming it. Wild about my lovin, right?”

Steve nods. He hadn’t known Eddie would know this song, it’s more along Steve’s interests. Maybe Eddie in this world listens to more genres than just metal.

“You like it?”

“Course I do. You like it, so I like it.”

“Huh.”

"Dance with me," says Eddie, smiling gently. "My liege."

"God, you never stop with that dorky shit, do you?"

"Come on." Eddie holds out a hand, and Steve takes it.

He stands, and Eddie guides Steve's head into the crook of his neck, and they sway to the music.

Eddie sings quietly along, the vibrations of his voice tickling Steve's head gently, like an old memory breathing against his scalp.

Steve leans into it, so close that it’s like the two of them are one.

_________

He and Robin dribble a ball on the court, out in the sunshine. It’s a beautiful day for it.

"Hey. I was thinking I might apply at the firm in the fall," says Robin, tossing him the ball. "Maybe be a temp secretary or something, then we could see each other at work."

"You'll be out of here by then,” he says,

"Nah. I decided I don't wanna go to college anymore."

He stares at her. Because Robin's been saving for college, talking about college, forever. From what she's said, she has always wanted to get out of Hawkins and see what's out there in the world. It's why she learned Russian and Polish, why she studied her ass off in high school to get the grades for a good scholarship.

"What the hell do you mean you decided you didn't wanna go? You've always wanted to go!"

He passes the ball, and she catches it effortlessly.

"Yeah, I just… I don't know," she shrugs. "Realized everything I could need is here."

He’s wanted to hear her say that for so long, but that’s wrong, it’s all wrong. She wants to go to college.

"You're not trying to spare my feelings, right?" He asks, cringing at how insecure that sounds.

"No," she says, and then she doesn't say anything else.

"Seriously though."

"I told you, I'm good here. We're gonna keep hanging out forever, dingus. Deal."

"You're being kinda weird," he says.

Something strange and anxious stirs in his gut, something wrong, but he doesn't know what to call it.

“I’m not being weird,” she says, frowning.

Steve’s smile dims. He’s being a jerk, isn’t he? “Sorry, just… I thought you wanted to go to college.”

“I changed my mind,” she says like it’s nothing. “Don’t wanna leave my best buddy alone in Hawkins.”

They’re quiet for a moment, no sounds but the hollow ball against the court. He’s glad she’s staying, or course he is, but he can’t believe she actually wants to. It’s not Robin.

“You know,” he says, feeling this sudden urge to honesty, “Sometimes, I feel sort of lonely here.”

“Why?”

“Just this feeling I get. I mean, I'm the only person here who remembers all that shit I told you about. It’s like it never even happened.”

“That’s a good thing, isn't it?”

“Yeah, just… I don’t know. It’s stupid.”

He doesn’t know how to explain what he’s feeling about it. All this is a little overwhelming if he’s honest with himself.

Robin looks at him and doesn’t say a word, like she didn’t even hear what he said. Maybe that’s for the best. They can just move right past it. The other Robin would have made a big scene. Robin never makes him talk about anything he doesn’t want to, and when he does talk, this Robin just listens, blank faced, and nods along.

There’s movement behind Robin's shoulder, and Steve moves to see, and he freezes.

It’s a portal, gaping red like a wound in the sky, and it’s real, and it’s made of fear--

He blinks, and he’s on the ground, breathing hard as he watches the ball roll away from him. He looks behind Robin again, and there’s nothing there, just a trick of his imagination.

What is this, some new symptom of his head stuff? Do head injuries cross dimensions?

Why can’t he catch his fucking breath?

“Why’d you throw the ball over there?” asks Robin.

"Just-- gimme a minute," he says. "Ignore me."

"Okay," Robin says, and goes back to dribbling the ball. He sits there and freaks out as quietly as he can.

He wants to talk about it, but no one here wouldn't get it, not really. No one here seems to want to talk about it. And that's good!

It's not that he wishes that on them. He remembers how bad Lucas and Dustin's freakouts could get, last year. Not to mention Max, who would get less scared and more angry, breaking everything in her path until someone stopped her. They're all better off here.

They never talk about it. Never. Of course they don’t, they didn't experience it. It’s strange, he has all this support now, but .... He’s the only one who remembers any of it.

It's fine.

He stands, shaky, and goes back to play basketball with Robin.

_________

He wakes up early in the morning, his sleeping rhythms still off from all his late nights, and blinks. Right, he spent the night at Eddie's. He can't seem to get back to sleep, so he rolls over and just stares at Eddie for a while.

His boyfriend. Steve's boyfriend, a long term partner just like he’s always wanted to have, not a hookup or a fling or a one-sided relationship. Eddie who loves him, and holds him in his sleep. He deserves this, in this strange, perfect version of the world. He's allowed to touch however he likes, because apparently in this world, he had been brave enough to be himself, and to ask permission for the things he wants the most.

It's unbelievable. Absolutely unbelievable.

He spots a VHS sitting on a stack of papers. It’s from Family Video, he remembers renting this out to Eddie, but that wasn’t… here, that was in the other Hawkins. He turns it over. It’s a Wonderful Life. God, he still hasn’t returned that, has he.

And it's that which finally makes the obvious occur to him.

It's unbelievable.

Why it had all been so familiar. That lunch with his parents. The familiar toll bridge, the address, Bedford Falls. That was all from the movie, even the fucking old-timey pharmacy they’d passed on the way.

Now that he’s thinking about it, a lot of things are falling into place.

Unbelievable.

Robin suddenly not wanting to go to college. The way he and Eddie met, how it lines up exactly with what he always wished would happen, the way everyone’s been so off but in just the right ways.

Holy shit.

He reaches out, carding hands through Eddie's curly hair, and Eddie blinks awake.

"Hey," he sighs.

"You've got a weird look. Bad dream?"

"Good dream, actually. So good, I thought it was real. I didn't think I had a good imagination, but I guess I can still surprise myself, huh?"

"What?"

Steve sits up, and it feels so, so obvious now. "My parents having lunch with me, Joyce inviting me over for dinner? Having Eddie Munson as my boyfriend?" He stands from the bed and paces across the floor. Stupid, stupid, stupid. "I mean it's not like I-- I've had a few of these before, I've just never had one that felt this real."

"Probably because we're… in real life?"

An alternate dimension where the Upside Down isn't known, that he can believe. But why would something like that also alter his personal life so much? It’s so obvious now that he’s not living in his assumptions.

It's not like his parents even knew the Upside Down existed, why would they suddenly want anything to do with him? Why does everyone like him?

Nancy actually talks to him, which, okay, could be because she can look him in the eye now without thinking of his role in Barb's death. However, they did break up in this world, which, in any world, was probably because she saw him for what bullshit he really was, and so there's no reason that they should still hang out. Not to mention Barb, who is friendly to him now but had always, always hated him.

There's Dustin, who has barely condescended to him since he got here, and Mike, who actually apologizes when he's being an asshole, and Max who is significantly less standoffish when he tries to be nice to her. Lucas, who comes over to practice free throws instead of blowing him off for the fifth week in a row. Eddie, who doesn’t smoke in front of the kids anymore, and everyone who tells him everything he wants to hear, all day, every day.

None of them have been weird about it when he's freaked out, or batted an eye when he says something insane or stupid.

It's subtle enough that he can't call them on it, but it's there. Things that are unlikely, but not quite impossible.

“I’ve gotta go,” he says, jumping out of bed.

_________

"Tell me something I don't know, but you do,” he says.

“Like what?” asks Dustin.

He stares at him. "Why is the hairy thing from Star Wars called Chewbacca?"

"That one's obvious. Because he chews up the bad guys."

Damn. It's plausible. It's just lame enough that Steve's subconscious could have thought it up, but for all he knows it's true. He's got to go for something more foolproof, something he knows for sure that he doesn't know. Something he has so little concept of that he couldn't come up with anything for it if he tried.

"What's Mordor?"

"You're really asking me that? How do you not know by now, we talk about it all the time."

"Go. I want details."

"It's… it's a nerd thing, you wouldn't get it."

It's exactly what Steve would picture him saying in this scenario. He knows the kid too well. However, Dustin usually does long lore dumps, and he hasn’t done that… well, since Steve got here.

"So you don't know."

"I do!"

"Then tell me." The look in his eye makes Steve's stomach sink. Yes, the real Dustin would have scoffed, and called him an idiot, but afterward he would have explained. In extreme detail, probably going down several side rants along the way.

It's not proof. But it's another note in his mental folder of things that aren't quite right.

“I don’t know whats up with you, but if you get it resolved, we’re still going to see that movie today, if you want to come.”

“Yeah, I’ll be there,” says Steve. An idea is starting to form. Maybe a stupid one, but maybe not.

_________

“One ticket for The Gate,” says Steve.

“Theater 2,” says the bored teen at the concession stand, barely looking up as he hands Steve the ticket.

Steve makes his way to the theater, and walks inside.

Steve makes his way through the seated moviegoers to stand in front of the kids.

“Dude, you’re in the way, sit down,” says Dustin.

The theater is full of people sitting packed together like sardines with their eyes glued to the screen. The light from the projector pierces the room, lighting up flecks of lazily swirling dust. There’s a thick smell of buttered popcorn and sweat in the air. Everything looks exactly as it should.

Except there’s nothing on the screen.

The projector is lit, but no movie is showing. Because Steve hasn’t seen it. He doesn’t even know the most basic plot, and Steve… doesn’t have much imagination.

So that’s it, then. That’s proof. He's not in an alternate dimension at all, he's in his own head.

Steve sits there for a few minutes, and then stands up. He walks back down the aisle. He’s seen enough.

None of it is real.

The way the days seem to move like thick molasses, and the vague bleariness to his memory when he tries to remember exactly what happened before he came to this version of the world, speak to something altering his consciousness.

So what now? He's got to get out, right? Wake up? Is he stuck in some kind of coma in the real world, or is time just moving differently here, and when he wakes up it’ll be his birthday?

Steve goes to sit in his car, and slams the door. He pinches himself, but it doesn’t do anything. He pinches harder, breaking the skin, but it just heals back immediately before it can even bleed.

“Wake up,” he mutters to himself. “Wake up, wake up--’

How is he supposed to wake up?

“Hey, I want to wake up now,” he says to the air.

He can't stay here. What if this is Vecna, and his friends are in the real world, in danger while he's been fucking around in here?

_________

Steve comes down from another one of his freakouts at Eddie’s place. Robin and Eddie are just sitting there, looking blankly forward, politely pretending not to notice. Or maybe they just aren’t reacting because they’re not real.

It's moments like these that he remembers. This is all some sick game of house, and these are Steve's dolls. Maybe that's what he deserves. The knowledge that it would feel so good, and that he's never gonna… that this is the best it's gonna be.

Everyone is in danger. All his friends in the real world could be in danger and Steve’s been in here, in some kind of sick daydream where everyone does what he wants. How could he not realize sooner? He’s not even smart enough to get out of here, back to his real life.

He’s such bullshit.

“Hey,” he sniffles, wiping his eyes, because he can say anything here, “Do you guys think I’m bullshit?

They say nothing. Their ringing silence is answer enough.

“Nothing to say to that, huh?” He chuckles. “Even in my perfect world I can’t make you--”

He doesn’t even know what he would want him to say. Steve doesn’t have an answer for this himself, how can he expect Robin or Eddie to?

"I don't know what to do here. In the real world… I used to just do what I was supposed to. I always knew what to do. But here...” Here, he has no one but himself, with all these different faces, and none of them can tell him who he is. What he's supposed to be getting out of this. “Sometimes I think I might be nothing at the middle of it."

He’s silent. Fair enough. Steve’s been noticing that more and more, the eerie silences that remind him that he’s not talking to a sentient person.

"What do I do? I’m supposed to be happy, this is a fresh start.”

Eddie doesn't say anything.

He shoves him away.

It's like they're not even themselves here. The real Eddie and Robin would laugh at him or something, crack a joke at least, but something is preventing it. Anything that would make Steve unhappy seems to be blocked. He can't even get someone to give him answers in his own dream, his own perfect fucking world.

They don’t say anything. Maybe because Steve himself wouldn’t know what to say to that, either.

"Say you hate me," he tries. It’s his dream, isn’t it? He can make anyone say anything. “Say you want to leave.”

"You don’t want me to say that,” says Robin.

“What, so you can’t? What if I want to hear the truth, huh? Like, that you guys only hang out with me because I got mixed up in the Upside Down stuff? Or you,” he turns to Eddie. “That you still feel like you owe me. Say it. I want you to.”

“I…”

His face does something strange then, blinks away as if it had been sanded down to nothing, and then he's back, looking at Steve with that soft caring look he always wears here, the one that is so unlike Eddie it makes Steve sick.

"What's the point of you if you can't even say the right things?" he says, standing.

"Steve."

"I want you to say it. Say it!”

He doesn’t say anything.

“Get away from me."

Steve stumbles into the other room and sits against the wall.

At least Eddie has left him alone to have his feelings in peace. He's alone here, talking to himself. Even surrounded by all his friends, he's all alone.

“...Steve? Can you hear me?” the walkie crackles, and he jumps.

“Yeah?” he asks, but no one answers. “...Over?” he tries, but there’s nothing.

Steve sighs. He finally gets up and goes to his car to drive home.

He drives home in silence, speeding, because why not? He can't exactly die in a dream, right?

It’s not until he’s halfway home that he gets to the tail end of that thought.

Maybe there’s only one way out of here.

He presses the gas pedal, slowly at first, as he mulls the idea over.

He’s going 60 in a 35.

It's a stupid idea.

90.

What if it doesn't get him out of the dream? What if he comes back and nothing changes?

110.

What if he doesn't come back from this at all?

120.

He’s nearly at the house now, and there’s a tree at the end of the street and if he angles just right--

Something materializes. It's Steve, wearing the same yellow sweater he's wearing right now.

"Heyyy," he says awkwardly, and waves at Steve from the passenger seat of the car like they are old friends and Steve hadn’t been about to try and kill himself to get out of here.

"What are you? Are you… me?"

He reaches out to pine his other self. Other-Steve laughs. "Something like that."

"It's not like me to be so cryptic, dude."

"Sorry," he says, raising his hands apologetically. "But based on the whole ‘about to kill yourself’ thing, I guess you aren't happy here? I mean, I know you used to think about that kind of thing, but things are different here."

"Okay, first of all, i’m not suicidal.”

“Right, you just don’t care if you live or die.”

“It's not that I'm unhappy with it. It's just getting weird."

"So, why would you want to go back to the other reality?" asks other-Steve. "If there's something specific, I can change things around if you want. You could be a pro basketball player instead of working at the firm! I could make you Nancy's boyfriend again, instead of Eddie's."

"It's not any of that, I'm just ready to wake up. I want to go home."

"You are home!" He snaps his fingers and he's in his house, sitting on the bed, with the other Steve sitting cross legged across from him.

"Not what I meant and you know it."

Other-Steves eyes widen seriously. "Oh. I get it. We never liked this place, I should have known better. Uh, hold on, check this out. Boom."

They're in Dustin's house, the spare bedroom decorated with all of Steve's stuff.

"You live with Ms. Henderson now. She's like a mom to us, it'll be great!"

"Take me back home."

"Ugh. Dude, I’m doing all this for you, you get it?” He says somberly. “Okay, you want to see a more realistic scenario, more like real life, then fine, let’s see ‘home.’ Here's what your precious real life is gonna look like, say… two years from now. I'll be back when you're done, and then you can tell me if you still want out." He snaps his fingers, and Steve’s back in his car, but this time, he’s alone.

Steve jerks backward in surprise, head thumping against something hard.

“Shit,” he says, and blinks, taking in his surroundings. He had hit his head on the seatrest. He’s in the backseat, with a blanket over his legs, and several pillows padding his sides against the seat belt holsters that threaten to dig into his hip where he’s scrunched into an awkward curl.

He tries to stretch, but quickly finds that there’s no room for that, and he sits up. There’s a little bag on the floor full of what looks like toiletries, a toothbrush and soap and stuff like that, blankets covering his windows in a kind of makeshift privacy cover, and… yeah, Steve is living in his car. Okay. Cool. Cool. Not like he didn’t expect this, right? Not the worst thing that could happen.

He lifts one of the blankets off the window and looks out. Gym parking lot, that’s a nice spot, he guesses.

There’s a note in his notebook. Circled in red. Don’t forget tomorrow!

It's the same thing he writes every time theres something coming up. But he should have been more specific. What’s tomorrow?

He drives to Dustins and knocks on the door. Ms Henderson answers.

“Hi, Ms. Henderson,” he smiles, waiting in the ensuing silence for her to reply with her customary reply, telling him to call her Claudia, please Steve.

The silence stretches on.

“What happened to your hair?” she snaps.

He runs his fingers through it. It’s cut, uneven and choppy. “I cut it, I think,” he says, unsure.

“Did you want something?” she asks coldly.

“Um,” he says, caught off guard, “Can I call Robin from your phone?”

“Steven,” says Ms. Henderson firmly. “I didn’t want to be so harsh when we talked last time, but I meant it.”

“About what?”

“You forgot?” She sighs. “Right, your… brain thing. Well, Steven, Dusty and I think it’s time you stop coming around so much. You need to do it yourself, not rely on us so much.”

“I didn’t realize I was being an inconvenience, I would have…” He shakes his head. “Sorry."

“The kids are in the other room, getting dressed.”

“Dressed? Dressed for--”

“Graduation. You forgot that too, didn’t you?” she says coldly. Dustin calls from the other room, and she turns, distracted. “I’ve got to tend to this, I’ll talk to you later.”

“Can I just use your phone really quick? And maybe brush my teeth here?”

“Phone’s right here,” says Ms. Henderson.

“--Sick of him hanging around all the time like a leech,” he hears from the other room. Max.

“Dude, his parents kicked him out,” another voice says. Eddie.

“You don't have to spend time with him just because he helped you out one time.”

“I know. I feel bad for him, that's all.”

He tunes them out numbly and picks up the phone.

“Hey Rob.”

“Hey… it’s not really a good time, I’ll call you back, okay?”

“Okay. When’s a good time?”

“I’m free next week.”

“Okay, I see, too busy with your vampire wife to talk to Steve,” he jokes, because he needs her, at least, to feel normal with. Like how things used to be.

“What?”

Oh. She doesn't remember their inside joke. He guesses it has been awhile now, it’s not like she's obligated to remember.

Maybe they don’t have any inside jokes anymore, he thinks, and for some reason that breaks something inside him.

“I’ve gotta go. Bye Steve.”

“Wait, we didn’t--” she hangs up. “Set a time.”

Shit. He walks back to the car and looks at his things, all laid out in the backseat. Probably a few more in the trunk. He wonders if he’s got a job. He wonders if he ever calls his parents, in this future world.

“Hey, Steve,” says Steve, closing his eyes. “Uh, I’m ready to go back.”

He waits, and horror dawns on him, because what if he can’t go back to that kinder world and he’s stuck here in his future, where he lives in his car and he has nothing and no one? Does he need to try and drive into another tree to get back, or would that just kill him for real?

Would it be so bad, a voice in his head asks.

Before he can finish the thought, the other Steve appears, and they’re both sitting on a fence by the neighbors house.

"What are you thinking?" asks the other Steve, swinging his legs.

"I don't know, I mean… I mean," he winces. "That haircut sucked."

"That is rough. I guess you did it yourself, probably in somebody's bathroom. Major fall from grace, right? Your glorious mane, leaving it all over the floor, like a stray dog. Nasty, dude."

They're quiet for a moment.

"Is it really gonna go like that?" he asks quietly.

"Steve. I'm you. I have access to the memories of everything that's ever happened in your life, so I can make a pretty valid guess. Let's be honest, you're never getting into law school, so you can count your parents and their money out. You're not a good boyfriend, there's no way anyone's gonna be impressed by the whole 'living in your car' situation and I don’t know how you're gonna get a new place with Keith cutting your hours lately, you're not smart enough to keep up with your friends-- don't get mad, it's true. Like a wise man said, you don't get Plato."

They both chuckle.

Other-Steve shrugs. "I'm not trying to be mean, but why would they want to spend time with you?"

"They love me," says Steve. "At least, Robin does, and Dustin likes me, even if he likes Eddie more."

Other-Steve snorts. "You don't even love yourself, man, how is somebody else supposed to love you? I mean, sure, you give them rides and stuff. And cook, but so do their real families."

"I know, but they hang around me anyway, so that's gotta mean something."

"Not as much anymore, though, right? You saw how it looked in the future. Check this out.” He claps his hands, and Max appears.

“Max, what are your real thoughts on Steve? I mean, your real thoughts.”

She shrugs. “He’s nice, I guess, but he’s overcompensating and everyone knows it. He drives us around sometimes, but everybody knows that’s just to try and get us to like him.”

“Yeah, because he doesn’t have any real friends,” says Lucas, appearing beside her.

“I have Robin,” Steve protests.

“I’m going to college, Steve,” says a voice behind him. He turns, and there’s Robin. “You’re cool to work with, and I love you, but you’re holding me back. Everyone else is letting go, why can't you?”

“He peaked in high school,” laughs Eddie. “God, I bet you'd love it if Vecna came back through a portal, and you got to play the hero again. Nobody wants to be seen with him now. Robin, what was it they were saying about him? A moped, right? Fun to ride when--”

“Stop,” says Steve. “That’s enough, okay, I get it.”

Other-Steve shrugs and disappears them all, so it’s just him, sitting on a fence, with himself.

"If they knew how sad you really are, and just how bad clingy little Steve really needs them just so he can feel okay, there's no way they would still be saying they love you."

"Which is why they don't know. Duh." He shuffles his feet. "They'll never have to know."

"See, there's the difference between the real world and here. You don't have to hide here! You can do anything you want!"

"I don't know…" says Steve, though he's running out of reasons to say no.

He is right. This is Steve’s future, this is where it’s been headed for years and he’s always known it.

And the promise of a world with no pain or fear, no worrying about money or the future, and where everyone loves Steve and wants to hang out literally every day? It's hard to say no to that.

"I see the problem here. You don't think you deserve it. Things are a little too perfect here, and it's making you feel guilty, so you want to leave. If I gave you what you deserved, the kind of thing that… that you and me dream about sometimes," he meets his eyes and Steve thinks of a deep canyon, and how it might feel to step over the edge, "...No, I can't give you that. I'm the part of your brain that wants you to be happy, believe it or not. Look at me dude, I'm wearing yellow. That’s a happy color. And our favorite sweater.”

“It is,” he admits.

“So I'm giving you a present. Why go back and try so hard when you know it's gonna fail? You could stay here instead. Live the dream."

"Shouldn't I at least go back for a little while and make sure everyone is okay in real life? What if this is some kind of trick from Vecna?"

"The Upside Down is closed. If it comes back, they'll call the government to handle it, they don't need a bunch of kids and a 20 year old with a baseball bat,” he laughs. “I'm doing you a favor, letting you stay here. And, I'm you, so… I don't want to see you throw it away."

"It'll still be just a dream."

"So what? It'll feel real. It's not like it was ever going to actually happen," he says gently. "You've got nothing to lose."

As much as he doesn't want to admit it… he's right. Steve's avoided thinking about what life is going to look like for him a few years down the road, because in the deepest part of him, he knows that it's always going to be kind of like this.

"And, hey, it's your dream. You can do whatever you want in there. Make yourself at home. Because Steve…" he snaps his fingers, and they're back in his house, lying in bed beside a sleeping Eddie. "This is your home now."

Other-Steve disappears, and Steve’s in bed beside Eddie in his house again.

The more Steve considers it, the more he realizes he’s right.

Maybe they’re not complete the way his friends are in real life, but they tell him what he wants to hear. They listen to him, he can say anything and they don’t even react, they just keep going about their day like it never happened. He can be himself here, whoever that is, and there are no consequences. It’s not a burden on anyone, because there’s no one here but Steve.

Most importantly, this place is safe. He’s safe.

In a way, it takes a lot of pressure off, that it’s a dream. He doesn't need to worry about if he's being too much, or hurting somebody's feelings by wanting something, he can just want something and then take it. That's… a really weird thought.

He wakes Eddie with a kiss.

He turns to Eddie and smiles. "Wanna have coffee or something?"

“You said you had to work today at the firm,” Eddie says.

"I want to hang out. I don’t feel like going.”

“I get sticking it to the man, but I don’t want you to get in trouble because--”

"It's okay," he says reassuringly. “It's my dream, isn't it? So I can do whatever."

"This again? It's not a dream, I--”

He's not sure dream-Eddie knows if he's in a dream or if he's like… programmed not to know, somehow, but Steve isn’t in the mood for that kind of talk, he wants to enjoy his time here.

"When did we meet?"

"This one night you were looking for Dustin's cat in the rain and I found you there and--"

"Eddie, listen to me. That is the ending of Breakfast at Tiffany's. Yeah, I noticed. I might be slow but I'm not that slow."

"Okay," Eddie says, hands raised in supplication, "So if it's a dream… What do you wanna do, since you can do anything, anywhere, with anyone? Gonna run off to see the world, rob some banks…?"

He thinks long and hard, sitting there, about what he wants to do now. Steve's had lucid dreams before but never like this. There are no consequences in this world. Even if he dies, he'll just wake up, right? He truly can do anything. No one can leave, no one can get hurt, because it's all in his head.

“Let’s go to the store.”

“The store. You think you live in a dream, and you want to go to the grocery store.”

“Yeah. I wanna get ingredients for dinner.”

Eddie shrugs. "Okay then. Let's go."

Steve goes to the door, and as they go outside, he laces their fingers together. This isn't Hawkins, this is Steve's world.

_________

He grabs Eddie's ass in public and holds Eddie's hand everywhere they go, because it's his dream, and nobody's gonna do anything. He tells the kids he loves them like five times a day, because it's easy when there's no chance they'll be weird about it or make fun of him. Robin isn’t leaving anytime soon, so he doesn’t even have to worry about it and they can hang out any time of day, and he talks to his parents and they’re proud of him and he doesn't have to worry about being too clingy, and he never has to worry about saying the wrong thing. He can let all of that go, in here.

Maybe it's for the better that he gets it all out in his head, however long this lasts, so all his desires don't come spilling out everywhere in real life.

He and Robin go around town and trespass on people's property to pet their cats, and no one does anything about it.

"Sure, it's a dream," says Robin. "My best friend is the CEO of the dream world! That's the only way to explain why we haven't been shot at for being in Ms. James' yard yet."

"I can't tell if you're being sarcastic."

"You know, I can't either. Sometimes I'm not sure."

Steve scratches Ms. Mittens' chin. "In real life you're funnier.”

"Hmm, can’t help that,” she says. “It's getting dark, you wanna go back?"

"Let's stay out here a little longer," he says. He looks out at the sky, wide and deep, and thinks of far away canyons.

_________

Steve walks downstairs, and freezes as he hears movement in the other room.

It's just his friends. He relaxes. Those memories are distant, more and more every day, like none of that really ever happened. There's no danger here. He's always been here, in this paradise version of Hawkins, where everyone is happy all the time.

He goes to make sure the kids have blankets and stuff on the couch. Even when he’s aware they’re not real, he still wants to take care of them. It wouldn’t be a perfect world if they weren’t doing well in it, too.

“Goodnight guys. Don’t stay up late. Love you.”

It feels so good to be able to say it out in the open like this without feeling like his heart is on the floor ready to be stepped on. Just like every time he says it, they smile at him, and accept it like it's nothing.

"Night Steve!"

"I call the futon."

"Um, I called it earlier, so…"

They go to take their places on the couches and futon, except for El, who remains standing there, looking at him.

"You want me to get you some more pillows?" he asks.

Her brow furrows like she’s confused, and then she blinks, straightening. She peers around the room, like she’s getting her bearings. And then she looks up at him again, something in her brown eyes piercing, as if those eyes were cut from a different material than their surroundings. It is in that moment that he can feel the difference, how his mind's eye smudges the image. The world is soft and its edges bleed into each other, but her eyes bore straight through it all to look at him. Through him.

“Steve?” she asks. “Are you real?”

That wasn’t what he was expecting. “Yes? Uh, why?”

“He’s inside a dream,” she says quietly, still looking at him, but murmuring, like she’s not addressing him at all, but someone far away. “Steve, you’re dreaming.”

“I know that," he says, a little offended that she thought he didn't know.

“I can get you out. Come with me.” She holds out a hand.

Maybe this is a piece of his consciousness here to wake him up, and take him to his rightful place in his bed. If it is actually El, entering his brain, she must have a good reason for being here, but… he doesn't want her to see in his head. This place is embarrassing, it's every wish he's kept secret, and he doesn't want them all to know. This place is just for him. She's looking around, at all of them, on the couches and the futon, and shame curls in Steve's gut, alongside the fear. It probably looks a little pathetic, if she gets a good look at it.

He hasn't thought about this before, but it hits him now.

The inevitability of waking up. He couldn't stand it, after all this, to wake on top of the sheets with his socks halfway off and a baseball bat clutched in his hands. Next to the window, giving him a perfect view of the empty pool.

Everything would be how it was again. He can't take it, now that he knows how it could be, if he wasn't such a failure to his parents and the people around him. He wants to stay here. Forever, maybe.

"Come with--"

He focuses, and tries to do that thing again that he had done with Eddie, flex that muscle in his head that he couldn't put a name to, and to his surprise, something shifts, and he pushes her away gently.

El blinks, shakes her head like she's clearing it. She smiles, and her eyes crinkle, soft at the corners.

"Goodnight, Steve," she says, and all is back to normal.

The kids go to sleep and he looks over them with a warm, fond feeling that things are all right in the world.

He wishes there were a real place that made him feel like that.

He shakes off the thought. He can hardly remember the place that he was before, it’s like a distant dream that moves further and further away. He might as well have been here all his life, with these people, and only a vague cold feeling where his memories used to sit.

He goes to bed and snuggles into Eddie's side, reassured. And when the alarm goes off tomorrow, he'll press snooze.

He can stay asleep a little while longer.