a/n: Y'ALL I'M SO SORRY I TOOK SIX MONTHS TO UPDATE. what a cliffhanger i left you on last time hehe. i hope you enjoy this one :D I LOVE YOU ALL!!!!!!!!!!!
*NO AI WAS USED IN THE CREATION OF THIS FIC*
masterlist
—
There’s ringing in your ears. It drowns out the sound of your footsteps against the tile as you quickly attempt to make your escape, glassy eyes searching for the stairs. The sooner you can leave this all behind the better. You’ll walk all the way back to Hawkins if you have to.
Your fingers still tremble from the adrenaline, forcing you to constantly adjust your grip on both the bat and the flashlight. A shaky breath pushes past your pursed lips, but it doesn’t do much to subdue that uncomfortable feeling. You blink, and a pair of blue irises are burned behind your eyelids.
Your left hand aches fiercely. You bite down on your lip when a particularly nasty jolt of pain pulses through your bones. When it happens again, you’re unable to muffle your groan, and shove the flashlight into your back pocket. You allow your hand to go limp, opting to shake it harshly through the air, praying that will help with the pain. It does only momentarily.
“I hope you’re not like this on our date, sweetheart.”
As the familiar voice enters your mind, nausea churns your empty stomach, almost strong enough to make you double over and retch. You shake your head, another uneven breath escaping you, but the voice does not relent.
“Don’t worry, I’m sure we can find a way for you to make up for it.”
The beginning of a sob involuntarily crawls up your throat. You manage to stifle it before tears form again, your heartbeat thumping loudly in your ears. Your wrist pops from how hard you move your hand, but the pain refuses to subside. As frustration builds, so does the shame.
You should be over this by now. Three years have passed since that night at the Byers’ — there is no reason why he should still be bothering you after all this time. It’s embarrassing how easy it is to remind you of what his rough touch felt like against your skin, or how the words of a dead man still make you feel like you’re covered in dirt. The stale air of the Upside Down does nothing to help as you force air into your lungs.
The hallways are a neverending maze; it makes your chest grow tight. As you stop to evaluate your surroundings, hoping for a familiar sign to point you in the right direction, there’s a shout of your name from down the hall. Like pouring gasoline onto a flame, your anger immediately reignites, burning red hot and only growing stronger.
You ignore Steve’s voice and keep moving forward, pressing your lips into a fine line; you know if you open your mouth again, something vicious will pop out. What you witnessed between the two boys is nearly unforgivable… why does he think you’d want to talk to him?
Now that you’ve been spotted, it’s easy for Steve to catch up to you. He easily matches your stride, brown eyes locked onto the profile of your face. Despite your fury, which threatens to bubble over any minute, Steve can still catch the slight twinge in your cheek. Unfortunately, he immediately recognizes the culprit — your left hand tucked into your chest.
His fingers are reaching out instantly, curling around the fabric of your jacket. Maybe he can redeem himself with a loving touch. Steve attempts to pull you to a stop, his voice softening, “Hey, slow down, let me take a look.”
In an instant, Steve’s drawing you closer, keeping his balance against the blue Camaro. Your cheeks flush from the gentle press of his fingertips, your eyes focused only on him and the bruises you weren’t able to prevent. It’s rather cruel of your brain to remind you of that memory while you try to run away from him. Would a younger version of you be disappointed in your choice?
With a harsh tug, you yank your arm free, refusing to slow your pace as you keep moving. Your eyes meet his, and Steve’s blood nearly runs cold. There is barely a hint of warmth in your irises; he’s never seen you so livid, but especially not towards him.
“What makes you think I want your help?”
The words spill past your lips before you get a chance to reconsider, accented with a shake of your head. It’s baffling how the pair of you are so disconnected, like you’re experiencing two separate realities simultaneously. In your mind, your anger is perfectly justified. Why do his wide and confused caramel eyes make you question your decision?
The silence that follows is both deafening and concerning, creasing Steve’s already furrowed brow. It feels like you’re winding up, as if you’re just waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike another dagger into his heart. When you want them to, your words always cut deep.
But when he expects another frustrated comment, there’s nothing. It’s so unsettling that he almost hopes you snap at him, with your voice loud enough to shake the walls and make your throat hoarse. It hurts more to receive the silent treatment from you than it does to be in a screaming match.
“C’mon don’t do this, Henderson,” Steve pleads, his voice trembling with desperation. The rest of the group needs you, your brother needs you… Steve needs you. You can’t walk away now after everything you’ve been through together.
He tries to stop you again, a hand wrapping around your bicep, “Hey—”
“Leave me alone,” You mutter as you push yourself away.
Steve scoffs in disbelief, gesturing to your hellish surroundings, “I’m not gonna do that, look where we are!”
You pinch your eyes shut, your annoyance building as Steve continues to pester you. What will it take for him to understand? Your jaw is tight as the pair of you turn a corner, Steve still hot on your trail, “I meant it. I’m done.”
You spot the stairs and a relieved sigh escapes you — finally. You’re one step closer to freeing yourself from all this for good. Your chest feels lighter just thinking about it. Steve pauses momentarily as you begin climbing, falling behind a couple of steps before he continues following you. His mind is moving a thousand miles a minute, and he’s running out of time to convince you to stay.
Frustrated, Steve runs a hand through his hair, “Let’s at least talk about this first.”
You freeze in place when you reach the landing, spinning around to face him. His stubbornness is unrelenting; your irritation is starting to morph into pure resentment. If he doesn’t explain himself and his actions quickly, you may never be able to forgive him.
“Then you better start talking, Steve,” You retort instantly, “Because you are this close to watching me walk up these stairs and never seeing me ever again.”
Steve stops. It’s like he’s been dunked into a tank of ice cold water, his head suddenly crystal clear. His face drops; he didn’t realize you were done with this. The ring in his pocket feels like it weighs a hundred tons. Trying to keep you in the fight against Vecna is now the least of his worries.
Four years with you by his side could be made worthless in the blink of an eye, and it becomes painfully obvious that it’s all because of him. The little voice in the back of his mind grows louder — there is more he should’ve done, more he should’ve said. He led you to believe that your trauma was now something you needed to fight on your own, like there’s a limit to what he's willing to handle. That can’t be further from the truth.
Steve blinks, and he’s back in that dinky bathroom. The hazy feeling in his head isn’t from alcohol, but the aftershocks of your brother’s beating; the thumping in his ears mimics the sound of bass vibrating against the walls. But instead of Nancy Wheeler standing in front of him, it’s someone else.
The one who threatened to skewer Eddie Munson if he didn’t let go of your boyfriend. The one that cleans his wounds and holds him when he cries. The one who withheld their true feelings for months, terrified of getting shot down and humiliated. The one that’s fought monsters with him side-by-side, all while managing to protect a group of shithead kids.
If you and Steve didn’t grow old together, he knew the alternative would be him ending up back in this tiny room, experiencing the worst heartbreak of his life. It’s you that stands across from him. It was always going to be you.
“Okay… let’s—”
Steve fumbles the attempt to gather his thoughts into words. He can barely think, overwhelmed at the idea of losing you; it’s a fate worse than death. His tongue trips inside his mouth when he tries to speak. Each second that passes without an answer tightens your jaw. You’re itching to bolt up the stairs, anticipation rising like the timer could run out at any moment.
Steve swallows, bracing himself for a conversation he never thought you’d share, “Let’s slow down here for a sec, alright?”
“I don’t want to slow down, I want this to be over!” You blurt out, voice echoing loudly.
The room shakes. Your anger is loud enough to affect the world around you, manifesting as a tremor that rumbles throughout the stairwell. Steve doesn’t even notice, his grip on the railing loosens while words continue to spill from your mouth. There is no moment for him to respond.
“I can’t do any more monster hunting or gates to alternate dimensions. I’ll go insane if I have to think about Vecna for another second.”
Steve’s shoulders sag as the feeling of defeat overwhelms him, ashamed that you’ve had this bottled up for only God knows how long. A laugh tumbles past your lips, “And now, I have to walk on eggshells around you and Dustin because you might punch each other! What kind of bullshit is that, Steve, huh?”
Before Steve can explain himself, the stairs begin to tremble beneath your feet. You’re thrown off balance, the side of your skull colliding painfully with the metal railing as tremors shake the concrete that surrounds you.
With vertigo impairing your vision and your hearing muffled, much of what happens next blurs together into a murky haze of memories.
As Steve assesses the injury, Dustin comes storming up the stairs and shoves a ruled notebook into your face. With your head pounding as hard as it is, you can barely understand his words or the journal’s contents, but his fear is unquestionable. When Steve impulsively decides to continue a dangerous search for Nancy and Jonathan, your brother breaks down into a fit of tears, terrified that Steve is only going to get himself killed like Eddie did. It shatters your heart to know that you can’t comfort him in the way he needs, but your situation just became significantly more dire.
After finding Nancy and Jonathan, you retreat down to the building’s lobby to hash out an escape plan. To reach Holly, you’ll need everyone’s help. Jonathan proposes walking back to Steve’s car, wondering if Hopper and El could be waiting for you there. Nancy thinks you and Dustin could scavenge for something to create a distress signal, which gets Dustin riled up because that is a ridiculous idea. You’re only half listening to their bickering when Dustin decides to start simply radioing for help.
Instead, your nose is buried in the journals your brother found. It churns your stomach to know these scribblings belonged to Dr. Brenner; his selfish search for knowledge has changed the course of so many lives. Your anger flares for the millionth time today — it’s because of him that the Upside Down even exists.
A wormhole to another dimension… you didn’t see that coming. You thought the Upside Down was the other side, but it’s only the gateway to another world, the one where Vecna must be holding Holly. You try not to panic, now worried that the exotic matter keeping the very building together could unravel at any second; you’d rather not get thrown into the expanse of neverending space. That being said, if the exotic matter were destabilized remotely, you could theoretically sever the bridge.
You could end this. For real this time. Armed with your theory, your fingers begin flipping through the rest of the pages before another thought can pop into your mind. Inspiration propels you forward.
Steve isn’t listening to the others either; he can’t stop thinking about what you said.
When Steve tries to figure out where things went wrong, one memory stands out among the rest. He recalls a moment during senior year when the two of you were sitting in his backyard — Steve was worried about you keeping your ties to Hawkins. Even back then, he understood that you needed to separate yourself from this town, and that was before Starcourt.
The more that you’ve both survived, the more dependent he’s become on you. The more he needed to hear your voice, the more he needed to feel your skin against his. That night at the Creel House certainly didn’t help cure his addiction.
Sometimes it feels like that awful memory happened only yesterday. It’s alarming how easily he can recall the sensation of your limp body in his arms, a horrible feeling indented into his skin.
Perhaps he was right all those years ago. Holding onto you may be doing more harm than good, no matter how deep his affections are for you. With that, he slips away from the rest of the group; Nancy and Dustin are still exchanging ideas back and forth.
Behind the reception desk, Steve quietly slides in beside you. You hid yourself back here to avoid the droning buzz of radio static and your brother’s calls for help; you’re positive another concussion is what’s creating that awful ache behind your brow. Steve’s shoulders are tense, nearly up to his ears as he tightly grips the desk with both hands. While your eyes shift over to look at him in a silent greeting, he stays focused on the dark wood beneath his fingers. You awkwardly return to the notebook in front of you when he doesn’t reciprocate.
The more time that passes, the less proud you are of the earlier exchanges you and Steve have shared. Should you say something? Where would you even start?
Steve answers your questions for you, speaking in a low voice.
“If leaving Hawkins and—”
His emotions threaten to overtake him, that gritty sensation in his throat abruptly stopping the rest of his sentence. This is the most difficult thing he’s ever had to do. A second or two passes, he clears his throat where he paused, and continues; you can feel the hesitancy in his tone.
“And everything behind is what you really want… then I’m not gonna stop you.”
Your attention snaps back to Steve, confusion quickly spreading over your face. Your chest tightens uncomfortably as his posture straightens, like a weight’s been lifted from him. Why are you so surprised, isn’t this what you wanted? Is the only reason you’re shocked because you wanted to be the one to put the final nail in the coffin?
“Just go, Henderson,” Steve interrupts before you can spiral any further. He finally gains the courage to glance at you, and he immediately wishes that he didn’t. Your eyes are misty with confusion, or is it relief?
His voice is softer now, as if he’s reminiscing on both happy and painful memories simultaneously. Between you and Steve, there are too many of either to count. The corners of his lips curl into a small, bittersweet smile at the thought of one in particular.
“You really think there’s nothing for me here anymore?” You said at the edge of the pool, water lapping at your hips. Your gaze was sincere but it carried a warmth reserved just for him. You meant Steve, and that scared him back then.
Steve couldn’t ask you to throw away all your potential for him then, and he can’t ask you to do it now. He repeats the same thing he said to you that night.
“I’ll be fine.”
You open your mouth to reply, but you can’t find any words to describe how foolish you feel.
Hearing Steve rephrase it like that makes the idea sound unbelievably selfish and cruel. It’s as if you’ve snapped out of a year-long trance, fog instantly wiped from your view. The version of you that survived the Upside Down last spring would have never allowed your relationship with Steve to sour as much as it has. Something feels terribly wrong.
How could you even think of abandoning your loved ones at a time like this? Dustin is a shell of himself. Your relationship with Steve cracks further with every second that passes. Leaving Hawkins would burn every bridge and connection you’ve ever built… do you really want that?
The more you think about it, the more confused you become. Where did the thought to leave Hawkins even come from?
As you question your own motive, it doesn’t make any sense. Even though you’ve endured horrific things in this town, you have always felt the urge to stay and protect it, no matter what the cost might be. The first night in your college dorm was one of the worst nights of your life; you hated being away, worrying that something could happen without you there to help.
Despite the conflicting thoughts battling inside your mind, one remains unyielding — you’re positive that you need Steve by your side.
A terrible ache spreads through your ribs as you recall everything you’ve spit in his direction. You and Steve have had your fair share of arguments over the years, but never anything as corrosive as this, words acidic enough to warp the strength of your bond. Shame begins to bubble beneath your skin, your cheeks growing warm as you’re reminded of how you screamed at him, words unnecessarily harsh. It’s really quite embarrassing that you gave yourself permission to treat him that way.
Have you gone too far? Is Steve’s forgiveness still something you can earn? How could he ever trust you again after the things you’ve said?
You reach out to him, your fingers wrapping tightly around his elbow. Through the fabric of his jacket, you can feel a hint of his warmth, and you immediately wish you were safely curled up in his arms. Your eyes dart across his face, silently begging him to reconsider. If he’s implying what you think he is, you’re not sure you’ll recover.
Steve inhales at your touch — the familiar pressure that he’s craved more than anything else. He’s missed the small moments of connection you two would share between the chaos; a hand playing with someone’s hair, interlocking your fingers together, or a reassuring squeeze to the waist.
Somehow, he finds enough resolve to resist your advance.
“I can’t watch you suffer like this anymore,” Steve mutters. This time, he’s unable to hide the tremble in his voice.
He shakes his head, “Even after everything these last couple days, I… god, I would do anything for you. I’d relive that night at the Creel’s all over again if it meant I still got to bring you back.”
While your words were bitter and cut with fury, Steve strikes with passion and reverence. For someone so insecure in his intelligence, Steve always finds a way to deliver the most heart-wrenching declarations of his feelings for you. His love is so great that he has to let you walk away.
Your lip wobbles as he continues. What have you done?
Steve drags his eyes to the ground at the thought; he can’t bear to look at you anymore. If he does, he knows he’ll regret his decision, even if it’s for your own good.
“But it matters more to me that you’re safe than if we’re… if you and I are—”
“Mike!” Your brother shouts, the radio crackling to life in his hand. He spins to face the pair of you as Mike’s voice echoes through the room, interrupting your conversation.
“We’re saved,” Dustin mouths, his eyes wide with relief, and turns his attention back to the walkie talkie.
Dustin’s happiness isn’t contagious, or at least not to you and Steve. You’re still trapped inside the same awkward bubble of feelings, until the realization slams into you — Steve was actually about to break up with you. The bubble pops.
Without another glance in his direction, you drop your hand from Steve’s arm and begin collecting the journals splayed out across the desk. If he wants distance between you, then you’re happy to oblige. You’ll turn into an inconsolable puddle of tears if you don’t separate yourself from him this very second.
Deep down, you know that you deserved it. Steve deserves someone kinder than you.
Dustin exhales and retracts the antenna as you approach, “They’re gonna meet us over at the other—”
“Sounds good,” You mumble, passing by your brother before he can finish speaking, your eyes laser-focused on the tile beneath your feet.
Dustin’s face pinches in confusion, his expression mirrored in Steve’s when he looks back, hoping for some clarification. Steve sighs as his thoughts begin to spin; his conversations with you never used to be so complicated.
What is he missing?
With a wave of his hand, Steve gestures for Dustin to follow, Nancy and Jonathan already trailing behind.
—
A cool autumn breeze blows through the forest surrounding Hawkins lab, catching a few errant fallen leaves in its wake. It feels amazing against your face as you yank your brother through the portal cracked into the earth. You’ve never been so happy to see sunlight.
“You alright?” You ask, grimacing in disgust while pulling a strand of something goopy from his hat.
Dustin nods, adjusting his clothes. He glances at Steve a couple yards away, the other boy scraping the bottom of his shoe against concrete to clean it off. As your brother moves his gaze back to you, his observant eyes watch you closely. Even now, you can’t bring yourself to look directly at Steve, focusing instead on the weeds beneath your feet.
His mouth contort into a small frown. When coming through the gate, you didn’t accept the help Steve offered, leaving his outstretched hand ignored.
“And you?”
Although Dustin’s tone is light, asking as if he’s simply checking in like you did, there’s another question in his words — are you and Steve okay?
The uncomfortable tickle in the back of your throat revives itself instantly. As the rest of the group gathers, you don’t give an answer, and pull Brenner’s journals tighter to your chest instead.
Hopper signals for everyone to start heading back to the parking lot, and you gladly follow. If you can help it, you never want to be near Hawkins Lab ever again. As El and Dustin fall in line, an arm wrapped around each other in greeting and grins across their faces, your heart warms inside your chest. With everything that poor girl has been through, you’re thankful that the boys were the first to find her that night in the forest.
Steve has accepted that you have no interest in being near him right now, reinforced in your choice to walk on the complete opposite side of the group. Despite that fact, he’s determined to get you alone when you return to the Squawk. If he doesn’t get a clear understanding of where you two stand, and soon, the worry will eat him alive. He can’t leave things like this for too long.
Out of the corner of his eye, Steve notices you stop dead in your tracks. Quickly falling behind, your lips part in shock as you stare straight ahead past the others.
Your knees nearly buckle — Lucas is waiting by the cars, and there’s a redhead with him. Not only is Max Mayfield awake, but she is smiling brightly.
“Holy shit!” Dustin shouts as he sprints forward. Max isn’t able to fully reciprocate his hug from in the wheelchair, but is able to offer a small pat to his back.
As good as it feels for Steve to see Max out of that hospital bed, it is infinitely better to watch the realization sink into your soul. Relief — true relief — crosses your face for the first time in years. As Dustin moves to the side, Max’s eyes catch yours from across the asphalt; your lips pull into a brilliant smile that could rival hers.
Quietly, Steve continues forward, allowing you to bask in the moment by yourself. He grins too, knowing that a heavy weight has been lifted from your shoulders. You didn’t fail her.
The group, now significantly larger than the last time you were together, joins forces back at the radio station. The mood quickly sours as you and Dustin inform the others of your findings; the Upside Down is a wormhole to another dimension, and that’s where Vecna’s keeping the children he’s captured. You also only have a few short hours to come up with a plan to save them all and end this forever. Simple.
It’s decided that the best way to beat Vecna is to take a similar approach as last time; one team will approach on the ground to destroy his physical form, while El infiltrates his mind from the Upside Down. Armed with more powerful abilities and the help of Kali, the rematch should be an even fight. You’ll go with the team into the Abyss (another loving D&D reference from your brother). El isn’t the only one who wants another shot at killing Vecna. Once he’s been dealt with, Hopper will place a bomb beneath the destabilizing exotic matter, which will only detonate once everyone’s escaped. This should, theoretically, end everything once and for all.
Max adds an interesting wrinkle to the group’s plan. With the time she spent trapped by Vecna, she was privy to his mind. As she attempted to make her escape on numerous occasions, Max found herself in a past version of Hawkins. You’re rather shocked to find out that your parents went to school with Victor Creel’s son — you feel like you should’ve heard about that before now, but you suppose you shouldn't be too surprised. In a sleepy town like Hawkins, everyone does their part in covering up stains, especially if the stain is Henry Creel almost killing another student. One thing’s for sure is that your mother should never own another cat.
As Max finishes updating everyone on how she’s spent the last eighteen months, her face bunches up uncomfortably, like retelling her experiences have reminded her of something else. Lucas, ever attentive, places a loving hand on her forearm, and persuades her to continue.
She takes a deep breath, her chest heaving, “When I was inside Henry’s mind, his memories weren’t the only ones I saw.”
“Will’s?” Mike theorizes, “Or Holly’s?”
Max shakes her head, before her gaze hones in on you. She swallows harshly, fingers picking at the blanket over her lap, and immediately regrets what she’s about to share.
“Yours.”
Your brow furrows as dozens of eyes suddenly shift in your direction. The attention forces heat to rise to your cheeks, a small scoff passing your lips to express your disbelief, “Mine? What are you talking about?”
“What kind of memories?” Dustin adds, seeking clarification.
Max exhales as she settles back into her wheelchair, “In the first one, I walked through a Halloween party. I didn’t think much of it, until I saw my brother talking to you two at the edge of the crowd.”
Steve stands up a little bit straighter when Max gestures to him with a flick of her chin. He and Nancy share a brief glance before he refocuses on you, and the evolving expression on your face.
Your heart drops into the pit of your stomach as Max continues rattling off a list of your trauma’s greatest hits. She describes seeing your troupe strung up at the Creel House, being pulled through the lake with Steve, the twisting tunnels that crawled with Demodogs, and your first encounter with a Demogorgon. You were the through-line connecting all these memories together. The others came and went, but you were always there.
You’re not sure you believe her; each of those moments in your life involved something from the Upside Down. If everything is part of the Mind Flayer’s shared consciousness, it isn’t far-fetched to assume the memories could be bleeding together.
“And Starcourt too.”
There’s only two people in this room that know what truly happened in the Russian base beneath the mall. From the way she looks at you, Max makes it three. Steve picks up on it too.
Your face slacks — oh fuck. If Max knows, then he does too. Vecna has access to your mind.
You’re speechless, mouth agape, but your brain is running a million miles a minute. When… and how? Steve, arms crossed over his chest, asks the same question, “How is that possible?”
“I got a wicked headache when he entered my mind, plus a bloody nose,” Max says, remembering the first time Vecna had created a bond between them.
The redhead continues gently, “Has he… done anything like that?”
You don’t answer, eyes blank and unfocused as you try to recount the last year and a half. Irritatingly, you can’t remember anything like what she describes.
Dustin shoves your arm, snapping you from your trance. His voice is laced with a uniquely stern blend of concern and frustration, “Has he made a connection?”
You shake your head, “No! I don’t think so. I can’t… I can’t think of anything like that.”
“You haven’t felt different?” Max asks.
You sigh before sinking back into your chair. That’s a loaded question.
“It’s been a tough year. For all of us,” You reply, hopelessness leaking into your tone, “I’m not… generally I don’t feel my best.”
“What about dreams?” Your eyes dart to Lucas as he speaks; another symptom of Vecna’s possession.
It’s starting to feel an awful lot like you’re being interrogated, which you certainly don’t appreciate, and especially not in front of everyone. You try to sound casual as you respond, “I have nightmares most nights, ever since this all started.”
“Any about him?” Max prods.
You clench your jaw. The worst dream you ever had used to be when Steve replaced the Russian you murdered; that seems like a walk in the park compared to what’s been haunting you lately.
Now, your worst nightmares revolve around Vecna torturing you with your endless pool of guilt and shame. Once you’re a terrified, sobbing mess and tormented to his liking, he violently puts you out of your misery. Strengthened by your fear, Vecna coats Hawkins in a wave of fire and monsters, and everything you sacrificed doesn’t mean a damn thing.
You realize that those were not dreams, but rather premonitions. He’s been using you like a battery, slowly draining you until he was strong enough to enact his plan, but he’s not done with you yet. In combination with the children, he is going to use what guilt you have left to decimate Hawkins, killing your loved ones in the process.
Unfortunately for you, he found the perfect place to hide — a mind already plagued by grief.
Your hesitancy to reply speaks volumes; a single tear falls onto your face. This next answer will condemn you, but you don’t have any other choice.
“Sometimes.”
“Oh Jesus Christ,” Dustin mutters. He begins to pace in front of you, hands gripping either side of his head.
“How long have you been having dreams about him?” Steve asks, softer than you anticipated.
“A year,” You respond with a small shrug, “Maybe longer.”
Steve’s brow skyrockets in shock, “A year?”
He shoves his face into his palms and mumbles something under his breath, words stifled by his skin. Every time Steve left you to stew in your own thoughts, he allowed Vecna to sink his teeth into you even further.
Steve sighs in defeat when he meets your eyes, tears brimming at your lash line, “Why didn’t you tell me?”
There’s genuine hurt in his voice, which doesn’t help to calm the myriad of emotions brewing inside you. He sounds betrayed, confused that despite everything you two have been through together, you would hide something this serious from him.
“It didn’t seem like he changed anything, I couldn’t tell there was anything different,” You answer, looking at him like you’re the only two people in the room. When he looks at you like that, his gaze a mix of worry and fierce protectiveness, you might as well be.
Steve barely manages to hold back a disgruntled huff. Your mood, or rather your entire personality, has certainly changed. Suddenly, the final puzzle piece slots into Steve’s mind — maybe you’re not the one that’s been starting your recent arguments. He feels even worse that he already did.
The room goes silent as the rest of the group ponders what’s been revealed. This certainly puts a kink into the plan. Lucas is the first brave soul to speak.
“What do we do?”
The simple question opens a floodgate. Multiple voices begin to speak over each other, and it becomes difficult to identify who says what.
“What if she’s spying for him?”
“Is that how he’s been avoiding us?”
Steve scoffs, “Woah, okay, that seems like an overreaction.”
How dare they think that you, who’s given so much to this cause, could be actively working against it? Anger burns beneath your skin as you try to interrupt through the chaos, “I’m not a spy!”
“How would you know?” Robin replies, her mind spinning nearly as much as yours, “He could be combing through your memories every night and using that information against us.”
“I don’t know, maybe—”
“Maybe?” Murray snorts, “Thanks for the confidence, Henderson.”
“Alright, let’s back off a little,” Steve interjects, irritated by how quickly the others have begun to lose trust in you.
Murray doesn’t stand down, “Don’t protect her, Harrington. If there’s a rat, we gotta weed it out.”
Steve shoots a deadly stare in his direction, “Say that to me again, I dare you.”
The chair makes an awful noise against the hardwood as you abruptly get to your feet; you can’t bear to hear another word said about you like you aren’t in the room. Without another second to lose, you book it straight to the exit, tears threatening to spill onto your cheeks. You shove open the door and push yourself out into the evening air.
You feel like an imposter in your own mind, now unable to differentiate which thoughts are yours and which Vecna has implanted. How are you supposed to tell which is which?
What if he is using you to gather intel on the group? Is he watching you right now? Is he using your current fear to further upgrade his abilities? With how your thoughts weave from one into the other, you understand why Vecna chose you — one question can start an anxiety-fueled cycle for hours to come.
The door creaks on its hinges as it opens behind you. When you spin around to see who’s the culprit, you find Steve standing in the doorway. Rather than moving closer he chooses to wait patiently, a hand still gripping onto the knob — a silent sign of his intentions. If you want him to leave, he will.
You, on the other hand, close the distance almost instantly.
Steve immediately scoops you into a firm embrace and tucks his nose deep into the bend of your neck. Tears pour down your face the moment his arms are wrapped around your torso, your breathing ragged and expanding your chest unevenly. One of your hands goes straight for his hair and fists around the strands at the base of his skull. Your cries are deafening, tugging at Steve’s heartstrings like nothing else he’s ever heard. The only thing he can think to do is hold you through it.
“I’m so scared,” You manage to say, face buried in the comforting material of his sweater. As you inhale, you catch hints of his cologne and body wash indented in the fabric; the scents calm you into another full breath.
“I know, sweetheart, me too,” Steve replies, his hold on your body tightening, “We’ll figure it out, okay? We’ll use your Walkman. It’s still downstairs, right?”
You nod weakly. Even with the rifts between you, he’s still determined to keep you safe. His love for you is overwhelming.
“I’m so sorry, Steve. I hate the way I’ve treated you,” You mutter, taking the opportunity to apologize for your previous actions. Even if Vecna was purposefully fueling your rage, those words still came from your mouth.
Steve tuts softly and brushes one of his hands down the length of your back. Slowly but surely, he can sense more of your own mind returning to the forefront. If there’s anyone that can fight through Vecna’s influence, Steve’s confident that it’s you.
“That wasn’t you, it’s okay. Don’t worry about me.”
It’s been far too long since you’ve held each other like this, tightly enough that it becomes difficult to tell where one begins and the other ends. Steve grimaces at the thought, promising to never let so much time pass without affection ever again. He could’ve done more to prevent this if he hadn’t become so complacent.
“I’m sorry too,” He says into your shoulder, “I should’ve done more, I should’ve realized something was wrong.”
More tears spill past your lashes with his admission; you’re reminded of how uneasy your last conversation was, and where it ended. With a dark future on the horizon, you don’t want there to be any doubt on where you stand.
You pull back just enough to peer into his eyes, relishing in the familiar color of his brown irises, “I don’t want to be safe and away from Hawkins, Steve. I just want to be with you. Wherever that is doesn’t matter to me.”
You shift your hands to cup his face gently between your palms, pushing all the emotion you can muster into his skin, “If you’ll still have me, that is.”
Steve exhales, banishing a stray tear from your cheek with the back of his finger, and settles his hand against the line of your jaw. Without another second to lose, his lips are pressed to yours. It’s been so long since you’ve kissed that it feels like the first time all over again; your brushing noses make your heart thump wildly in your chest, the hand on your waist that pulls you closer sends a flush of heat to your face.
Steve only pulls away once his lungs burn for oxygen, and rests his forehead against yours. If Vecna wants you, he’ll have to get through your love first.
"I don't write my draft before I start writing, I simply write, and then if I don't like it, I edit it, and when I say I'm done, I UPLOAD IT. I AM NOT WRITING THAT SHIT AGAIN."
no offense but how did y'all watch sinners and walk away simping after the horrifically mid white boy when Michael B Jordan is literally right there in three different genres
Shoutout to Superman (2025) for making it incredibly fucking clear that Superman is for good people. He’s hope. He’s love. He’s supportive. He’s an immigrant. He supports Palestine. He loves animals. He protects children.
The movie is a light. If you’ve been feeling really depressed about the world lately I’d highly suggest watching Superman.
dailybridgerton
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vaporwave
turnnoffyourmind
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