Chapter Text
Dustin lay curled up on the couch in Mike’s basement. Silent tears leaked out of the corner of his eyes as he kept his back to the room, staring at the couch cushion in front of him. He felt as though he had been crying for ages now, and that he would never be able to stop.
Not since…
He couldn’t muster up the energy to move. Even breathing felt too difficult, and he didn’t really feel like putting in the effort to continue.
In. Out.
It was exhausting. How had he done this for years with no problems? How had he found the energy to live? He squeezed his eyes shut as more tears blurred his vision. He couldn’t take this. He couldn’t do this anymore. He pulled Steve’s jacket tighter around himself, then fell limp again.
“Is he okay?” a hushed voice asked from the top of the stairs.
“Really, Nancy? What do you think?” that was Robin, hissing back at her. Dustin didn’t bother moving, didn’t think he could let them know he was awake if he tried. He just felt so… empty. Hollow. He opened his eyes, staring unfocused at the cushion again.
Nancy winced. “Sorry, I just… the kids are taking it much harder than I thought they would, you know?”
Robin sighed in exasperation. “Did you even bother to get to know him after you broke up? Steve was… he was their… ‘go to’ person.”
Dustin’s chest tightened at Robin’s words as more tears fell from his eyes.
“What do you mean?” Nancy sounded confused.
Robin sniffed, taking a moment to collect herself. Dustin listened closer. “I mean… Lucas and Dustin can’t exactly talk to their families about the whole terrible dimension under Hawkins without being sent to a mental institution, so they have to go to someone. They chose Steve. He kind of stepped in as the adult they could trust. He taught Lucas how to play basketball and helped Max when her mom was basically drinking herself to death after Billy. It’s almost a relief that she doesn’t know. And Dustin… man, they were practically brothers.”
Dustin choked on a silent sob, heart shattering at the words. Brothers. The word echoed inside his head. Regret swirled through him and he shut his eyes, wishing he had mentioned it to Steve before… before…
“I… I had no idea.” Nancy whispered.
“Yeah, well, he was essentially their safe place, and now…” Robin cut herself off, clearing her throat.
There was a heavy silence, and Dustin took a shuddering breath. It was still far too hard to breathe, and honestly, Nancy and Robin’s attempt at a quiet conversation was not helping.
“I never realized,” Nancy whispered again. “He… He grew up a lot, didn’t he?”
Robin snorted. “He didn’t have a choice. None of us really did, but he just… stepped up. And he- he loved them all so much.” Her voice was tight.
“He loved all of us.” Nancy said. They both sounded like they were on the verge of tears. Dustin’s throat was completely closed up as he tried desperately to not let any sound out. Nancy and Robin moved away just in time before he couldn’t take it anymore and he let out a devastated cry, wrapping Steve’s jacket even tighter around him.
It had been a good day earlier. At least, better than it had been in a long time. Eddie’s death didn’t feel like a huge weight dragging him down like it did most days. He had tentatively asked Steve if he would drive him and the rest of the Party to the arcade, and Steve had surprisingly agreed.
He had missed Steve, truthfully. Dustin had avoided him for nearly six months, ever since Eddie’s death. Dustin blamed himself, wishing that he hadn’t let Eddie get involved, and scared that he would get Steve killed too. Dustin had dragged them both into this mess, and now, both of them were dead. And it was all Dustin’s fault. Dustin whimpered, pushing himself up as he pulled the jacket off, arms shaking with exertion. Tears clouded his vision and he pulled the jacket up to his face, taking in a deep breath. Fresh sobs erupted.
It still smelled like him.
Steve had picked them all up, taking them to the arcade, but Dustin had forgotten that it was technically a holiday, so the arcade was closed. He had felt guilty for dragging Steve along, but perhaps Steve had noticed their impending bad mood, because he had taken one look at them and announced that they were going on a picnic instead.
Steve had driven them all to his house and they had prepped a nice meal. Dustin had smiled more than he had in months, ignoring the proud gleam in Steve’s eyes every time he saw Dustin smile. He also ignored the fact that he had felt happy again for the first time in months. He had thought, foolishly for a moment, that maybe things would be okay.
They had gone to the quarry, putting out a blanket and everything (“you’re such a mom, Steve” Mike had complained. “Shut up, Wheeler, it’s called having fun”). Dustin hadn’t brought any warm clothing because he had assumed he would be spending the day inside the warm arcade, and he was deeply regretting not bringing a jacket. He shivered, and Steve furrowed his brows at him before rolling his eyes and taking off his own jacket and handing it to Dustin. It was his Letterman jacket from high school, the one that Dustin had always thought was cool but knew better than to ask to touch it because it was Steve’s favorite jacket. Dustin stared at it in shock as he reached for it. Steve ruffled his hair and turned back to the others, leaving Dustin gobsmacked. He had acted like it was no big deal, giving Dustin his favorite jacket after he had been a jerk to him for so long. Dustin put it on reverently, grinning to himself. He inhaled deeply, secretly pleased that it even smelled like Steve. It was like a hug from him.
Dustin rejoined the Party and had lunch. They had a great time, and then Dustin had cut his hand on one of the knives they had brought. Steve had been concerned, sending Will to grab the first aid kit out of the back of his car. Dustin had rolled his eyes, calling him dramatic, but waited for Will to return.
Lucas had been the one to see it. He screamed about the demogorgon, and Mike shouted at Will to grab the nail bat as well. Steve had jumped up, pulling Dustin out of the way as the demogorgon had charged them. Will, panting, had sprinted back with the bat in the nick of time. Steve grabbed it and pushed everyone behind him, telling them to get back to the car.
Dustin had refused, grabbing the knife he had cut himself with only a few minutes beforehand. Steve had swung at the demogorgon, attempting to focus the attention on him. He yelled at Dustin to grab the lighter and gas in the back of the car if he wanted to help, and Dustin had hesitated before sprinting faster than he could ever remember.
He had flung the trunk open, grabbing the gasoline and lighter as the others were radioing for help in the back of the car. Dustin sprinted back, fear pounding in his chest as he watched Steve land another hit on the demogorgon. He was favoring his left side though, his right leg having taken a hit. Heart in his throat, Dustin had tossed the lighter to Steve and opened the gasoline, shaking it all over the demogorgon. Steve had lit it on fire, and for a moment, it seemed like it would all be okay.
Then the unthinkable happened.
Instead of dying quickly, it had charged Steve one last time.
Steve hadn’t been expecting it. Neither had Dustin. They had always disappeared.
The demogorgon had leapt on top of Steve, covering him in gasoline and fire, and Steve had screamed.
Dustin was sure he would never forget the sound of Steve’s anguished cry. The way his eyes had met Dustin’s, so full of hazy pain and determination. The way the demogorgon had come down on top of him, pushing its claws into Steve’s stomach. The way the air had filled with the stench of burning meat.
The way that the demogorgon and Steve had disappeared.
The only thing left on the ground was a pile of blood.
Dustin had collapsed to his knees, completely numb to the world as he screamed, breaths refusing to come. The way the world had tilted, shifted, but somehow didn’t end, as if there was still some point to life. Dustin knew better. His world had ended for good. He had wailed, begged the universe for some kind of answer, some kind of hope.
He never got a reply.
Dustin had sat there, frozen in place, in time, until he felt a hand on his shoulder. He had looked up, and Robin was asking him if he was okay, where Steve was, if something had happened. Nancy was stalking towards the blood with one hand steady on her shotgun. Dustin had seen the moment she froze, seeing the puddle of blood on the floor. He had watched, numb and detached, as she turned back towards him, a fear that was so unlike Nancy Wheeler pulsing in her eyes. He saw the moment she understood, and she stumbled, dropping her weapon. Robin had turned, and he saw the way her eyes filled with tears and her expression dropped, a mirror of his own grief. He said nothing, even as his friends gasped behind him, begging him for answers.
Dustin couldn’t do anything. He had hoped, desperately, that this was a nightmare. He hoped Vecna had attacked him, had made him see his worst nightmare, because anything would be better than this.
But Vecna didn’t appear. Lucas had collapsed on the ground next to Dustin and pulled his knees to his chest and had sobbed. Mike had frantically examined the ground, whispered no, please- falling from his lips. Will was standing on Dustin’s other side, standing in shock. Dustin just sat there, shellshocked. It happened so quickly. It wasn’t fair.
It wasn’t fair.
The thought seized him so suddenly, sinking into his very bones, echoing a truth that would never be shaken.
It wasn’t fair.
Steve had just wanted to help them have one normal day. He was supposed to be going on dates and applying for jobs, not driving him and his friends around. He had given up so much of his time and energy for them.
It wasn’t fair.
Steve couldn’t just leave him like this. Dustin couldn’t handle losing him. He just couldn’t. Dustin knew with certainty that there was no recovering from this. He had been doing better. Today was supposed to be a good day. He had finally reached a point where he felt like he could start processing Eddie’s death, and now?
Now, he had another person he loved torn away from him.
Another empty grave, with no body.
It was that thought that had finally broken him. Dustin’s face contorted with agony as he fell forward, slamming his fist against the dirt as torturous screams tore themselves from his throat. He hadn’t been able to breathe, even as Robin had pulled him up and wrapped her arms around him. But Dustin had just sobbed harder, because it was supposed to be Steve comforting him.
It was always Steve.
It would never be again.
He wailed in Robin’s hold, trying to tear his hair out even as Robin pulled his hands away from his head, and he had fought her, screamed at her, cursed her out. Eventually though, the energy had left him and all that was left was the anguish. He had been choking on sobs, unable to breathe until eventually, black stars had overtaken his vision and he had been released from this living nightmare.
He had awoken on Mike’s couch sometime later. That was hours ago now, but it kept replaying over and over in his mind. Dustin stared at the jacket in his hands, running his thumbs over the coarse fabric. He traced the cursive letters that made up Steve’s name, vision clouding with tears again as he recalled Steve’s expression before he had died.
Dustin sobbed into the jacket, shutting his eyes, but it didn’t stop the images flashing through his mind.
Steve laughing. Smiling. The fear. The pain.
Dustin took a few shuddering breaths, trying in vain to stop the flow of tears that had been going for hours. He had assumed that eventually he would run out of them, but they seemed to be endless.
The basement door opened, but Dustin didn’t bother looking up. The couch shifted next to him, and there was blissful silence for a few moments.
“I’m sorry,” Lucas said quietly.
Dustin stared at the jacket hollowly. “Not your fault,” he whispered, voice coming out cracked and broken. Lucas silently handed him a glass of water, and Dustin stared at it for a few moments.
“You’ve got to take care of yourself right now,” Lucas said, voice breaking with barely concealed tears of his own.
A breathy laugh that was more of a strangled gasp broke free from Dustin. “Seems pointless,” he croaked.
“I know,” Lucas said. “But you and I both know that Steve would kill us if he found out we hadn’t been taking care of ourselves.”
“It doesn’t matter what he would want, he’s dead.” Lucas flinched at Dustin’s words, but Dustin reached out and took the water anyway. He didn’t really want it, but maybe there was still some part of him that refused to let Steve down. He mechanically drank some, then set it down.
There was a heavy silence for a few minutes. Dustin returned to tracing Steve’s name in his jacket.
“It’s my fault,” Dustin eventually said, voice breaking. Lucas inhaled, to refute it or agree he wasn’t sure, but Dustin hurried on before he could get a word in. “I asked him to take us to the arcade, forgetting it was closed. I cut my hand, leading the demogorgon straight towards us.” Dustin spoke evenly, but his heart was twisting with a deep agony and certainty he had never felt before. “I should have stayed. Done something-”
“You did,” Lucas choked out, “You did- you did everything right, Dustin. It wasn’t your fault.” Fresh tears fell from Dustin’s eyes. “If anything, it’s mine. I just- froze. Hid in the car while Mike and Will called for backup. You at least had the knife. If I had just grabbed the gas instead, I could have given you and Steve enough time… it would have been more injured…” Lucas trailed off, putting his head in his hands as he started crying again, shoulders hitching.
Dustin squeezed his eyes shut, leaning into Lucas’ side. He supposed he wasn’t the only one who had been replaying the events in his mind. “It was both of our faults,” he eventually compromised. Lucas stayed quiet for a minute, then nodded.
“Both our faults.”
The heavy silence returned, but it was no longer quite so oppressive.
Dustin hesitated for a moment as he stared at the jacket in his hands. “Do… Do you want the jacket?” He regretted the words the moment they left his lips. Dustin wasn’t sure he could ever let it go.
“What?” Lucas asked, confusion in his voice.
“I just… he taught you how to play basketball. It makes more sense for you to have it than me.” Lucas hesitated, reaching his hand out. Dustin fought the urge to yank the jacket away from him, but Lucas’ hand stopped before he reached it, hovering over it. He pulled his hand back.
“No… No. He gave it to you,” Lucas said, nodding to himself. Dustin could have sobbed in relief, but he instead steadied himself, taking a deep breath as he pulled the jacket close again. “Besides, I’m going to have my own soon.” Lucas said it with determination. “I’ll be the best player on that team, and it will all be thanks to Steve.”
Dustin nodded, a lump in his throat. He didn’t feel like saying anything else, and kind of wanted to be alone. Lucas must have picked up on that, because he pressed the glass of water into Dustin’s hands again before standing up and walking up the stairs.
Dustin swallowed, draining the rest of the glass before pressing his face into the jacket again and inhaling deeply. If he focused, he could still smell hints of Steve’s Farrah Fawcett hairspray. His bruised heart battered against his ribs as he thought about how he wouldn’t be able to tease Steve about it later. Instead, it was now his only comfort, a small piece of Steve still with him. He put the jacket back on hesitantly.
Would Steve even want Dustin to keep the jacket? It probably should go to his parents. After all, it was an important part of Steve’s life and his parents would probably want it. Besides, Dustin had treated him poorly since Eddie’s death. Steve had become Dustin’s verbal punching bag, and Dustin hated himself for it.
He had told himself he didn’t care at the time. That Steve didn’t actually care about him and vice versa, that there was no reason for Steve to really stick around. He didn’t have to keep asking him if he was okay after Eddie’s death, as a sort of substitute. He told himself that Steve would eventually leave him, just like everyone else had, because there was really no reason for him to stay. No reason for him to feel sorry for Dustin. He was fine. He didn’t need Steve.
Now, Dustin had figured it out. He was always too smart for his age, too introspective. He had ignored the truth that had been staring him in the face for the last six months, and it had cost him everything. He loved Steve, and he was sure that Steve loved him too. He had pushed Steve away not out of annoyance, but fear. Dustin was so scared that he would lose Steve too, so he tried to get him to leave so that Steve would never die for him. That Steve would never die, period. He knew the truth now. He couldn’t survive losing him.
He only wished he hadn’t figured it out too late.
He wished he could go back to that moment, even just to tell Steve he loved him. What was the word Robin had used?
Oh yeah.
Brothers.
Dustin’s heart beat painfully, as though aware something intrinsic to his being was missing. Dustin couldn’t stop the sobs that just kept coming as he desperately hoped that Steve knew just how much he meant to him. Dustin hoped that he could forgive him for being such an idiot. He wept, pulling his knees to his chest as he rocked back and forth, hiccuping slightly as he tried to calm down.
After a few minutes, his tears subsided again. He looked up as he heard the basement door open. This time, it was Nancy.
“Hey, dinner’s ready,” she said, pointedly ignoring the tear tracks and puffy eyes that Dustin was sure were visible from there.
Dustin nodded. “Be up in a minute,” he said hoarsely. Nancy smiled softly and left, leaving the door ajar.
Dustin huffed in annoyance at the open door. He took a deep breath, then shakily rose to his feet. His legs felt like lead, as though they were weighed down by the grief he was feeling. Dustin staggered over to the stairs and began the Herculean task of climbing them.
He finally emerged from the stairs, squinting at the bright hallway light. He immediately felt a migraine forming, but he grit his teeth and walked to the dining room. Mr. and Mrs. Wheeler had made chicken with potatoes and green beans, and the others were about ready to sit down and eat. Dustin quickly joined them, ignoring the concerned stares as they all sat. Dustin sat between Mr. Wheeler and Mike.
Dinner was much more subdued than normal, which Mrs. Wheeler had picked up on. She skillfully managed to keep the conversation lighthearted but she avoided trying to make them laugh like usual. Dustin twirled the fork in his hands, not looking up. He didn’t even attempt to follow the conversation. He prodded the potatoes experimentally, stomach flipping at the texture. Tears welled up in his eyes again and he furiously blinked them away. There was nothing wrong with the food, but he really didn’t want to eat it.
Mr. Wheeler was oblivious to the depressive atmosphere, but Dustin was also pretty sure he would remain oblivious to anything, even aliens coming in and abducting everyone. “Young man, it is rude not to eat food that was made for you.” The table went silent and Dustin blinked, looking up and meeting Mr. Wheeler’s gaze through his tears.
“W-What?” Dustin whispered, clearing his throat and shakily reaching for the water in front of him. He took a sip, grateful for the way it ran over his aching throat.
“You should really eat the food in front of you.” Dustin dropped his eyes back to his plate, a hot lump expanding rapidly in his throat.
Mrs. Wheeler noticed Dustin’s despondent gaze and tried to break in. “Honey, it’s okay, if he’s not hungry-”
“No, you spent a long time making this food, he should be grateful for it.” Mike reached up and grabbed his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. Dustin met his gaze, unsurprised to see anger there and he imperceptibly shook his head.
It’s not worth it, Dustin tried to convey to Mike. He cleared his throat again. “Sorry sir,” he muttered, picking up some of the potato and forcing himself to eat it. It tasted like ash on his tongue and he immediately recoiled at the texture. He forced himself to focus on the mechanism of chewing and swallowing instead of the taste.
Mr. Wheeler huffed. “There are starving people in Africa that would love a meal like this,” he grumbled. Dustin trembled, his knuckles white as he gripped the fork tightly. His vision grew fuzzy with tears and he dropped the fork, standing abruptly as he pushed his chair back.
“Dustin? Where-”
“I’m okay, Will,” Dustin responded automatically, though fine was about the furthest thing he was feeling. “I just have to get home. I just remembered, my Mom is working late tonight and I need to feed the cat.”
Lucas stared at Dustin sadly, and Dustin looked at the other adults at the table. Nancy was staring down at her own food. Robin looked expectantly between Nancy and Dustin, while Jonathan was more focused on Will than Dustin.
Dustin hesitated a moment before it was clear that nobody was going to take him home. “Right,” he muttered, the lump in his throat expanding painfully. “I’ll just get going then.” He walked briskly out, ignoring Mike’s attempt to stop him. He jammed his feet into his shoes and zipped Steve’s jacket up carefully.
Dustin left, closing the door behind him and he walked to the end of the cul-de-sac. He finally let the tears fall again as he collapsed to the ground, leaning back against a tree. He brought the back of his hand to his mouth and bit it so he wouldn’t let the scream building up escape him. He shook, desperately trying to muffle the sobs in case anyone saw him. Not that he particularly cared, but he would prefer to not deal with the repercussions of that later. Dustin blinked the tears away and shakily pulled himself to his feet. He didn’t live too far away, and it would only take a few minutes to walk there.
Steve would have driven him though.
Steve always dropped him off, even when it was out of the way. Even when he didn’t ask for it, he always offered. He just took care of him. Always.
He tried in vain to not sob at the realization and trudged back towards his house. He hardly realized when he got home, and he opened the door. He looked up and was met with his mother’s concerned expression.
“Dustin, I just got off the phone with Mrs. Wheeler. She said you’re not feeling too well. Is everything okay?” Dustin trembled at the words, gripping the doorknob too tightly. He felt like the walls were closing in on him.
Dustin opened his mouth to attempt to reassure her, but all that came out was a choked cry. His Mom was immediately at his side, wrapping her arms around him. Dustin couldn’t take it anymore, and he collapsed, sobbing into her shoulder as she caught him.
Dustin hardly noticed as she shut the door behind them, leading them both into the living room. They settled onto the couch, and Dustin’s frame was wracked with sobs. He focused on the feeling of his Mom’s hand rubbing down his back and her fingers twirling in his hair. He tried to focus on the soft words she was saying, but it felt like he was listening to her underwater.
Dustin wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, but eventually Dustin’s sobs quieted. He just sat there in her arms, utterly exhausted. “What happened, baby?” she was asking.
Dustin hesitated. He couldn’t tell her anything about the Upside Down. Realistically, he shouldn’t really tell her anything. He could talk to Nancy or Robin or Jonathan, or really any of his friends. But he desperately needed his Mom.
“Steve’s dead,” Dustin whispered. His Mom’s gentle movements froze and her breath hitched, before she seemed to catch herself and the movements started again. Dustin watched the corner of her sleeve near the seam, absently watching the pattern that was created from the stitches, waiting for her response.
“I’m so sorry, Dusty,” she whispered, sounding devastated. Dustin’s eyes burned and he squeezed them shut, desperately trying not to start crying again. “How… How did that happen?” Dustin hesitated.
“He… we were having a picnic with him and the party, and there was this bear that came and knocked him into the quarry.” He felt guilty for minimizing Steve’s death like that, but he wasn’t sure what else to say.
“Dustin… why won’t you tell me the truth?” Dustin glanced up guiltily into her pained but earnest eyes. “I know that’s not what happened. I just want to help.” Dustin’s chin quivered and he blinked back tears.
He was so tired of keeping this a secret, but he couldn’t explain. She would just want to leave Hawkins, and Dustin couldn’t handle that on top of everything else.
“That is what happened.” Dustin said monotonely.
“Dustin-”
“I’m going to bed,” he croaked out, despite it only being near seven o’clock.
His mom sighed. “Fine,” she said, “but then you’re going to school tomorrow.”
Dustin bit back a furious sob. It wasn’t fair. He nodded curtly and stomped up the stairs, angrily brushing away yet again more tears from his eyes.
Dustin pulled back the covers of his bed and collapsed into them, shaking with muffled sobs. He sobbed, staring up at the ceiling, and he pulled the jacket off and hugged it to his chest. He squeezed his eyes shut. He just couldn’t stop crying.
Dustin had heard of the five stages of grief before. After Eddie died, he had been stuck in anger for so long. He was so angry at Eddie for dying, at Vecna, at Steve for not letting him fall apart, at the world for hating and not understanding Eddie, at all the pain he and his friends had gone through. But now, it was like he had skipped straight to depression. He had never properly mourned Eddie, still angry about everything. But Steve? He missed him more than he thought he was capable of. Dustin just wanted him back. He’d do anything.
It wasn’t fair.
Why did he have to keep losing the people he loved?
His heart ached as he lay there, staring up at the ceiling. He didn’t sleep, even though his eyes were heavy with exhaustion. Every time he shut his eyes, he saw Steve’s face, full of pain and fear and determination. So he stayed awake.
The next morning, Dustin opened his crusted eyes and blearily blinked at the alarm clock. It read 1:45, which confused him because the sun was definitely up. It occurred to him that he must have slept through the whole morning. He blinked back tears, a part of him grateful that he didn’t have to go to school today after all. He knew upon waking up that it hadn’t been a dream, and devastation surged like a tidal wave through his body. He looked to his side, running his hands over Steve’s jacket again.
He felt empty. There was no way he could continue. How could he face anyone, after all of this? How was he expected to go on? A haze of grief took over him and he lay there, unmoving for a long while.
Eventually, he realized he had to use the bathroom and he groaned, pulling the covers over his head. He did not want to move in the slightest. Dustin took a deep breath and rolled out of bed, stumbling as his feet hit the floor. He stood shakily, a dizzy rush shooting through his head. He blinked back the black dots in his vision and sniffled, wiping away the new tears that seemed to be an ever-present part of his life now.
Distantly, he wondered if he would ever stop crying.
He staggered to the bathroom, but after he washed his hands he stared at them for a long minute. He remembered the way he had scrubbed them raw after Eddie’s death, desperately trying to get the blood off of his hands. It hadn’t come off, and some days Dustin felt like he could still see it. His hands went blurry as new tears fell.
Dustin was able to hold Eddie when he died. Until today, he had thought that had been the most cruel thing in the world. But he didn’t have any blood to wash off his hands today. Steve had died alone, and Dustin hadn’t been able to hold him, to say goodbye. He had just watched.
That was the cruelest thing of all.
It wasn’t fair.
Dustin put his back to the door and sank to the floor, hand over his mouth to try to muffle the sobs that wracked his body. It was likely that nobody was home, but he didn’t want to break down again. Not alone.
He shuddered, trying to figure out how to breathe consistently as he pulled himself to his feet with shaking hands. He wrenched the door open and hesitated.
He really just wanted to go back to sleep, to escape this nightmare again.
On the other hand… he was really hungry.
Dustin stared at the stairs for another minute before resigning himself to get food and then head back to bed. He walked down the steps slowly, leaning heavily on the rail. His whole body felt like dead weight, and he stumbled into the kitchen.
Dustin was going to eat some kind of cracker or something when he paused, a plate full of food on the counter.
He approached it. It was a turkey sandwich, along with some chips on the side. He picked up the note next to the plate.
Please try to eat something today, Dustin. Love you, Mom.
Dustin swallowed past a lump in his throat as he picked up the plate, eyes welling with tears at the gesture. She didn’t understand, but she was trying her best for him. When would people realize that he wasn’t worth that?
He turned around, then jumped as his mom came through the front door. She stopped, startling in surprise.
“Hey, honey. How are you feeling?”
Dustin stared at her, pretending he didn’t notice the way her face fell at the pain Dustin was sure was written all over his face. He didn’t bother responding. He furrowed his brows in confusion though, because she seemed very pale and out of breath. Her hair was all messed up, as though she had been running a hand through it repeatedly.
“Are you okay?” Dustin croaked out, his voice dry and cracked from disuse.
“Am I- Yeah, I’m fine.” She looked very uncomfortable for a minute and she sighed deeply. “Can you eat that here? We need to talk once you’re done.”
Dustin’s stomach twisted, face falling. He nodded, trying to ignore the way his hands shook in trepidation. He mechanically ate his sandwich, unable to form words when his mom put a glass of water in front of him. He ate slowly, trying to delay whatever conversation she wanted, but she hadn’t left. She sat down across from him once he was done.
Dustin squirmed uncomfortably in his chair, looking at his empty plate.
“So…” his mom started.
“Can we not?” Dustin asked, voice breaking. She stopped. “Please, I don’t want to talk about it.” He felt miserable, tremors running through him steadily as dread shot through him. He didn’t want to revisit whatever story he had come up with yesterday (oh right, a bear). He didn’t want her pity, he couldn’t deal with it right now.
“Lucas told me what happened.” Dustin inhaled sharply as he looked up in her eyes. She looked uncertain now.
Dustin’s mouth was dry as he tried to figure out what she meant by that. “...He told you about the bear?” He asked, his voice coming out quiet and timid.
“If by bear you mean demogorgon, then yes.” Dustin froze, heart hammering in his chest as he stared at her in shock.
“D-Demogorgon?” He stuttered, sweat starting to bead on his forehead. She shook her head, working her jaw as she watched him.
“Yeah, Dustin. Demogorgon. Seven feet tall, flower petal mouth with hundreds of teeth, sharp claws.” Dustin flinched at her words, but she continued. “Apparently, you and your friends have been running around, fighting things from an alternate dimension since Will disappeared. Magic powers apparently exist, and oh, apparently everyone is in on it except for actual adults!” her voice had raised slightly.
Dustin tentatively found his voice. “Joyce and Hopper-”
“No. I cannot believe you didn’t come to me. I thought Lucas was pulling my leg when I demanded an explanation, but the crazy thing is that I believe him. It makes more sense than all of the terrible excuses you’ve given me over the years. I had half a mind to pack up and move away.” Dustin looked at her, panic filling him at the thought of leaving his friends. She saw him and her voice softened slightly. “I know that’s not what you need right now though.” Relief crashed through him instantly, dizzying in intensity. She reached out and grabbed Dustin’s hands, squeezing them tightly. “You don’t have to do this alone, Dustin. You could have come to me. I had no idea what you’ve been through. I’m angry, but I’m so proud of you too.”
Dustin looked at her in surprise. “Proud?”
“You’ve dealt with more than most adults will in their entire lives, and you’re still you,” she whispered softly. Dustin’s face contorted in pain. “I’m so sorry about Eddie. I had no idea you were right there.” Dustin broke, sobbing as the pain crashed through him again. He couldn’t breathe. His mom quickly stood up and rushed over to him, wrapping her arms around him. Dustin desperately clung to her as he choked on more sobs.
“I’m so sorry-” Dustin choked out onto her shoulder.
“No, I’m sorry I haven’t been there. I’m sorry you didn’t feel like you could trust me with this,” She whispered, sounding absolutely devastated. “I’m your mother. I’m supposed to take care of you.”
“Dart ate Mews,” Dustin blurted out suddenly, still sobbing. “I told you that I left the door open and he ran away, but he was eaten by a demodog.”
“I know, Lucas told me everything,” she whispered. “It’s okay, Dustin, it’s okay.” Dustin felt like a weight had been lifted off of his shoulders, and he wept in his mother’s arms. It had been so long since he felt like a kid, but he felt young again as she held him gently.
“I can’t- I can’t do it anymore,” Dustin wailed, begging her to understand.
“I know, I know. You’ve been dealing with this on your own for years-”
He shook his head quickly, pulling back from her. “No, that’s just it, I haven’t been dealing with this on my own,” he sniffed, meeting her teary gaze. “I had Steve.” It wasn’t enough, wasn’t an adequate description of who Steve was to him. Nothing would ever be enough to describe how much Steve had done for him, but his mom seemed to get it as her face fell even further.
“I’m so sorry,” she said, cupping his cheek. Dustin burst into tears at the gesture, letting himself collapse into her fully as he mourned.
He mourned for his broken childhood, snatched away from him at the young age of twelve. He mourned for Eddie, for late nights playing Dungeons and Dragons with his friends. But most of all he mourned for Steve. His big brother. The one he could always rely on. The one who kept him safe, protected. The one who had been his anchor over the last few months, but really since he had helped him with Dart out of the blue. He mourned his kindness, his thoughtfulness. He mourned his best friend, the best person he had ever known. Tears were streaming down his face and his mom just rocked him gently, one hand in his curls and the other one tracing a calming pattern up and down his back.
Dustin sobbed harder, because it felt just like what Steve would have done.
“He was- he was my brother,” Dustin gasped out, desperate for her to understand. “He- he-”
“I know,” she cried, sounding devastated. “Even without knowing about all of this, I could see that. He loved you, Dustin. He loved you so much.”
Dustin finally let out all of the pain he had been holding back at those words. He screamed, chest heaving with agonized cries as he sobbed, tears coming even faster than before. He gasped for air repeatedly, ears popping when he swallowed. He was so congested he couldn’t breathe out of his nose, and he sobbed.
“Let it out, you’re okay,” his mom whispered.
Eventually, he ran out of energy to sob, and quiet tears simply ran down his face instead. He had done a number on his throat, and it felt scratchy and hoarse. His breaths were unsteady and painful, but he felt slightly better than he had before. His back twinged from being on the dining room floor, and he tugged on his mom’s sleeve.
“Yeah?” she asked quietly.
“Living room?” he asked, then coughed harshly. His throat really felt like it had been torn in two. He felt her nod, and they stood up, his mom bearing most of his weight. They shuffled into the living room, and Dustin collapsed onto the couch, settling into her arms. He blinked lethargically as she carded her hand through his hair, unable to move anymore. He slowly drifted off to sleep.