episode ten: the bad
Every day you fall in love with Steve just a little bit more. Your love for him has become an endless well, its depths unknown, yet inviting despite it all. “I think that’s a lovely idea, honey,” you bring his knuckles to your lips, kissing them softly. “Though I’m a little upset I didn’t think of it myself.” “Gotta find reasons for you to keep me around.” Steve winks. He’s just relieved to see you smiling again. Your face burns from how hard you smile. “I’ll always keep you around, dummy.” “Good. The dating scene is currently awful in Hawkins.”
Summary: steve decides hes an f1 driver, hoppers cabin becomes hawkins hottest club, you get terrible news and try to run away (as usual), you still unfortunately have to grow up despite being deeply traumatized, dustin decides he no longer likes being your brother, lucas gives you a pep talk, max becomes your penpal, nancy becomes the proud owner of a radio tower, and you collect a few charms as compensation for The Dread. what a year !
Rating: general, slight cursing
Warnings: fem!reader, use of y/n, descriptions of PTSD (slightly), swearing, immense grief and guilt, can be viewed as suicidal thoughts (but i promise they arent)
Words: 9.2k
Before you swing in: oh my god we’re BACK !!! ive missed you all so much and i especially missed bug <3 this chapter sets a lot up for season 5, and while i dont have it outlined yet, i knew i had to give yall the final chapter of season 4 as a special thanks for waiting so patiently and continuing to support this story. im so incredibly grateful. i really hope this chapter was worth the wait. enjoy :)
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Puffs of air swirl around you, dancing with the fallen snow-like ash that settles quietly upon the crest of your cheeks. A blood rush pounding in your ears deafen the ever increasing unnerve within the crowd amongst you.
Bodies push against yours. Their sensation goes ignored.
The only movement you register is Dustin’s fingers interlocking through yours, terrified, afraid, lost.
Lost.
You’ve lost.
Watching smoke billowing through the sky of the hometown which once shielded you, you get lost in the ruin.
Steve’s hands force you back.
He shoves through the crowd, through the maze of people just as lost and terrified as you are, desperate to get to you.
“Y/N!” His voice sounds faint through the pounding in your head. You almost don’t register that it’s him, but then Steve’s hands wrap around your arms and the force of his grip rips you back into reality. “Y/N, we need to leave.”
“What’s going on?” Dustin pulls you away from Steve, lost in his own panic as the sky darkens with smoke and the ground beneath begins to shake.
Steve grabs onto his jacket, hauling him back as he grabs you once again, colliding you against Robin, death gripped behind the older teen. “We need to leave!”
The urgency in his voice shocks the remaining paralysis within you. Feet stumbling, you follow after Steve. You will always follow him.
“What the hell is happening?” Robin tries to pull away, but Steve only tightens his grip and knocks roughly into a group of strangers blocking his path.
“Let’s go!”
His brute force startles you. “Steve, where are you–”
But your words get drowned out by the monotony of others asking each other the same frightened questions. Children start to cry. Mothers and fathers huddle together and demand answers that no one can provide. Someone even begins to scream.
That’s when the first helicopter wails through the sky.
Its violent and ugly sound causes even more distress. The formerly stoic crowd Steve shoved his way through to get to you now becomes a mass panic. Red bleeds into the skyline and lightning strikes above.
The Upside Down has encased all of Hawkins.
Any minute the sky could fall upon you. You aren’t sure if the sirens ringing in your ears are real or just another hallucination.
Military vans fly down the streets. Officers yell at innocent civilians to clear a path for uniformed soldiers and their tanks. You don’t understand how so many appeared so quickly. As if they were expecting the snowfall.
Steve never once slows down. He weaves between people and holds onto you so tightly that it almost hurts. Your shoulder throbs from the bats you fought only days ago and Dustin’s limp slows the rest of you down.
Robin isn’t doing any better, stumbling over her feet repeatedly until she finally has enough. Slamming to a stop, she yanks her hand from Steve’s. “Where are you taking us?”
He frantically shakes his head, lunging at Robin’s hand as if afraid the crowd will swallow her whole. She screams at Steve for answers, protesting and violently trying to pull away from him, but already he’s arrived at his car and shoves Robin into the front seat.
“Get in.”
“Are you out of your mind?” Robin screeches, her panicked eyes looking to you for answers. “We can’t just drive in the middle of a goddamn nuclear meltdown!”
You don’t say anything. While you may not understand what Steve is doing, you trust that whatever decision he’s come up with could save you and the ones you love the most. That’s all you have left.
Trust.
Tugging at Dustin’s arm, you pull him into the backseat with you and slam the door just as Steve starts the engine. Your brother tucks his head into your chest and tears shake his body. Your own tears soak his hair and neither of you can let go of the other.
Dustin can’t lose you. Not like how he lost Eddie. But the sky erupts ash from the Upside Down and Steve’s reckless driving reminds him of the bats that swarmed Eddie’s dead body and all Dustin can do is close his eyes and hope that the blow of the end of the world will land delicately upon your face.
Steve jerks the steering wheel, narrowly avoiding other cars who seemingly had the same carnal desire to flee. “Everyone hold on!”
You let out a sharp breath, bracing against the sudden turn of the car, while Robin covers her ears and flinches at the sound of oncoming cars honking at each other.
“Steve,” she gasps out, holding tightly onto the dashboard. You’ve never seen her so pale. “Please. Where are we going?”
His eyes catch yours in the rearview mirror. He studies your face, the tension in your shoulders and exhaustion behind your eyes. Knowing he’s asking you whether you want to hear the answer, your head nods.
White knuckled grip on the steering wheel, Steve says one name. “Hopper.”
Immediately everything within your body jerks awake.
The cabin.
Steve is driving to Hopper’s cabin.
Though long destroyed, the cabin may well be the only option the four of you have left. After years of fleeing to the woods, after the Demodogs, after the Mind Flayer and his army, Hopper’s cabin became the solace that the party desperately needed.
There are still weapons hidden beneath the floorboards. There are still memories within its walls that you know Mike and the others will run to as well.
Swallowing down the fear in your chest, you hold onto the trust that you’ll find what you’re looking for in the cabin.
“Turn left,” you say, guiding Steve where to go. “Then follow the woods.”
The relief on his face tells you that all he has left is trust, too.
–
Fraught with fear, the sight of Argyle’s obnoxiously hideous pizza delivery van parked outside the cabin almost makes you cry in relief.
Nancy and Jonathan are inside, somewhere alongside Mike and El and Will.
They’ll know what to do. They have to know what to do.
With a frantic mind eager to find your friends, you run out of the car before Steve has even parked. You think you hear him calling after you, but it goes ignored in favor of making sure that the party is safe.
You don’t see the unfamiliar black car parked next to the pizza van.
Instead your unstable legs carry you through the cabin’s door, shouting the only names you can think of. “Jonathan? Will?”
Your Byers boys.
Steve stumbles through the doorway and rushes to your side, pulling you close as Dustin and Robin crowd near. But the cabin’s wrecked interior remains silent. A ghost of the home it once had been, your heart slams against your chest in anticipation of someone, anyone, to come home.
Then Nancy breaks through the backdoor, lost in her own fear, and seeing her eases the remaining chords of dread in your chest.
“Nancy!” You stumble towards her, relieved to have someone to hold onto. “Are you okay? Is-is everyone alright?”
“Y/N?” She’s out of breath, just as confused and overwhelmed as you are. Her eyes flicker to the others and worry edges her face. “What are you–?”
Another body slams through the backdoor, only this time its inhabitant throws his arms around you fiercely and whispers only one name under his breath, “bug.”
Jonathan’s scent overwhelms you. Instinctively you melt into the embrace. “I’m okay, bee.”
“God, I was worried about you,” he pulls away, eyes never leaving yours despite the fact that Steve stands not even an inch away. “The roads, they aren’t safe to drive right now–”
“Oh, it’s not like we had any choice.” Robin sarcastically slaps Steve’s back. “Stevie over here decided it was a bright idea to drive amongst goddamn geysers. I mean, we were one pothole away from becoming flaming skewers.”
Steve rolls his eyes. “I had to get the three of you to safety.”
“By putting their lives in danger?” The clench of Jonathan’s fists foreshadow the argument soon to follow. “Yeah, great thinking, Harrington.”
“Only minor road laws were broken,” Dustin shoves Jonathan away, endlessly annoyed. “Now can we please focus on the fact that the world is seemingly ending?”
“The world isn’t ending.” El walks into the cabin, Mike and Will close behind her.
The moment you see them, everyone else goes forgotten. You’re wrapped around them in seconds, exhaustion creeping through your relieved exhale, “You guys are okay.”
For once Mike doesn’t push you away. “We’re fine, Y/N.”
“But Hawkins sure isn’t.” Dustin again reminds the group. “Can someone tell me what the hell is going on out there?”
All eyes fall on El.
“I…” Her voice breaks. “I don’t know.”
The last fragment of stability collapses. Everyone begins talking at once in a cacophony of blinding incoherence.
“We’re going to die.” Robin starts to dry heave. She paces the room and kicks at pieces of wood on the ground and it takes Nancy several attempts to even get her to listen to her reassurances.
Yet Jonathan’s voice rings loud above the others. “How could you think that driving here was a good idea? The ground was exploding. You could’ve killed Y/N.”
Dustin shoves his middle finger at him. “I was in the car too, asshole.”
“So was I,” Robin says in between dry heaves. “Appreciate the concern, Byers.”
“Is now really the time for this?” Steve waves his hands in the air, seconds away from giving Jonathan another bruise. “Is your ego really so far up your ass that you’re willfully blind to the fact that there’s a very real possibility Y/N is still in danger?”
Jonathan bites back laughter and his response gets lost in the chaos within the cabin. Nancy tends to Robin’s unrelenting spiral, Dustin interrogates Mike and Will if they’ve seen anything, Steve barks out insults, and inexplicably Argyle walks through the door and worsens Robin’s already debilitating panic and it all builds into a crushing wail within your skull until a loud, familiar voice shouts–
“Enough.”
The voice commands attention. It silences the room. The voice once told you that you were the best out of everyone before the July heat killed him.
Hopper.
He stands in the doorway, a shell of the man you thought you buried last summer.
Seeing him echoes old wounds.
Your skin flinches, tendons connected to nerves scream at you to run. The man standing before you isn’t really Hopper. It can’t be him. Jim Hopper is dead. He died in a blast so powerful that it could only be covered up with a mall fire.
He’s just another hallucination.
If you try to embrace him, all you’ll be met with is empty air.
You’re in the dandelion field again. You can hear your father calling your name, only this time his voice sounds like Hopper’s and terror chokes your lungs. You try to scream, but all that comes out is a broken gasp.
Yet Hopper hears it. He grabs your shoulders, seeing the panic in your eyes, and forces you to look at him.
“Kid, listen to me,” you never forgot the rough timbre of his voice. “There isn’t any time to explain. I don’t know what happened to you out there, but right now I need you to help me get El to safety. Can you do that?”
A maternal palm rests on your shoulder, the hand small but fierce, and when you look up, Joyce’s tired eyes shine down at you.
“Is this…?” Your head spins, unable to coax your lips into forming the question that beats into your chest.
Steve’s hand lands on the small of your back. He understands more than you could ever ask him to. “This is real, angel.”
Again, all you can do is trust him.
Squaring your jaw, you nod at Hopper. “Tell me what to do.”
He doesn’t hesitate. Spinning around, he faces the others. “I need everyone out.”
“What?” Dustin can’t believe that the chief is sending everyone outside where all literal hell has broken loose. “Are you out of your mind?”
“This cabin is the only location completely unknown by the rest of the world.” Hopper grabs your brother’s shirt and yanks him to the door. Glaring at everyone else, he sends a silent warning not to argue any further. “I’d prefer to keep it that way.”
“But is it safe outside?” Nancy presses, refusing to move just yet. Not when her brother’s life may be at risk.
“Look,” Will suddenly steps forward, wringing his hands anxiously when the room’s attention falls to him. “I-I can’t feel Vecna. Or the Mind Flayer. It may not be much, but I can promise you that we aren’t in danger. At least for now.”
The answer doesn’t seem to satisfy Nancy. She bites her lip, uncertain, before looking to you for the final verdict. “Y/N?”
Nancy will trust whatever call you make.
“We need to listen to Hopper.” You say, grateful your voice doesn’t shake. “Everyone get out.”
No one hesitates.
“Go home. Don’t come back here under any circumstances.” Hopper takes point, directing everyone where to go and what to do from here as they exit the cabin. “Pretend this place doesn’t even exist.”
“But what about El?” Mike protests immediately. “Where are you taking her?”
“She’s staying here,” Hopper responds, uncharacteristically soft. “I promise, alright? The minute I know she isn’t in any danger, we’ll find a way to establish communication.”
You ask the question that no one else will. “Safe from what?”
“You hear those helicopters flying above that pretty head of yours? They’re all looking for El. Each and every one of them.” A humorless laugh falls from his chest. “This isn’t the end, kid. This is only the beginning.”
–
The entirety of Hawkins shuts down. An infiltration of military officials and their safety protocols meant only to protect the upper hand and take over the once quiet town.
A quarantine goes into effect immediately. No one can leave.
It hits you harder than you expect it to.
Mrs. Waters calls you almost a week after the first military watchtower gets constructed in downtown Hawkins.
“Hello, dear.”
“Mrs. Waters?” You almost don’t recognize her voice when she first calls, the exhaustion aging her nearly a decade. “Is that you?”
“It is,” the phone rustles on the other line. You can hear her heavy breaths, how she strains her body to continue. “Listen, my dear. I have some rather unfortunate news.”
“Are you okay? Do you need me to get you anything?” You try to quell the roaring terror that rises.
“I’m alright.” Mrs. Waters sighs heavily. “No need to worry. What I wanted to tell you is that… Well, I’m afraid that I can no longer have you work at Bookstordinary.”
“I’m sorry,” you’re not sure you understand. “Did I do something?”
“Oh, never. You could never do anything wrong.” More rustling, you think you hear the woman blow her nose. “My dear Y/N, none of this is your fault. It was those wretched men outside. They took control of my store, claiming it to be their property because it happens to be too close to their silly science experiment.”
The final gate. The gate that took Max away from you.
Rusted nails line your throat. Swallowing down bile, you mumble a soft apology to Mrs. Waters. “I wish there was something I could do.”
“I know you’d do whatever you could.” The woman laughs softly. “That’s what I’ve always loved the most about you.”
The sentiment burns. You know Mrs. Waters means well, but a large part of you feels that you don’t deserve her kindness. Bookstrordinary would still be open if you hadn't failed to kill Vecna. Hawkins wouldn’t be destroyed and Mrs. Waters would still have the store she loved so dearly.
“Well, dear,” the woman sighs one last time. “I’d rather not keep you. Just know that you were a wonderful employee and an even more wonderful young lady. Do visit me sometime, yeah? And bring along that cute young man of yours.”
When the dial tone sounds, an indescribable urgency to disappear overwhelms you.
So you run.
The brisk early winter air stains your cheeks red. Fallen autumn leaves crunch beneath your feet. It’s been a long time since you’ve run through these woods.
And it’s been even longer since you’ve seen the Byers’ home.
It’s still the place you run to. It will always be the home you run to.
Somehow the home survived the earthquakes and ruin of the town. The old porch creeks with every step you take, an old exhale of a welcome to a familiar friend. The front door sways in the gentle wind, its hinges unable to secure it closed. Beyond the door stands a still empty home, and despite the innate urge to run towards Jonathan’s old room and pretend you’re still a little kid, you remain on the porch, no longer naive to the passage of time and its wounds it brings.
You don’t know how long you sit there, listening to the trees rustle above and relishing in the silence that has become rare within Hawkins. There are no military tanks nearby, no soldiers barking commands.
It’s only you and the memories engraved within the Byers’ home.
“Get lost on the way home, bug?”
Of course it’s Jonathan who finds you. He will always find you.
He still knows you better than anyone.
“Just needed some air,” you respond, feeling Jonathan’s weight press against yours as he settles beside you. “Found myself here.”
He nods, able to understand through the little you’ve provided him. “Do you often come here to breathe?”
“Not since the summer you left.”
“Oh,” Jonathan’s exhale reflects sympathy rather than surprise. He looks at you, gaze lingering on the profile of your nose and the crest of your cheek. Your skin warms at the sensation, long used to his lingering eyes. He studies you for a moment, searching for answers you won’t give him. “What happened, bug?”
His question isn’t meant to force a response. You know he only asks because he cares about you and knows how often you hide. Yet as Jonathan continues to stare at you, the warmth on your skin slowly comes to a burn.
Shifting away from him, you close your eyes and mumble, “They took Bookstordinary.”
“Bug…”
“And there’s absolutely nothing I can do about it.” Without meaning to, your voice rises and your heartbeat spikes. All the anger, all the resentment and pain and frustration seeps through your skin and comes spilling out before you can stop it. “I mean, those assholes come into Hawkins and what? Ruin our lives? All because they believe that hunting down an innocent sixteen year old girl is the answer?”
Pain pricks at your fingers, stabbed raw from the porch wood as your hands grip at whatever they can find. “People died,” Billy’s blue eyes flash inside your concave mind. The tears in Max’s eyes when you last saw her. “People died… but not the ones who were supposed to. Not him,” Vecna’s laughter, knowing he’d won in the end. “It was supposed to be him.”
“Y/N,” Jonathan tries to grab your hand, but you swat him away and stand up.
“It’s all bullshit! The military. The Upside Down. Vecna. All of it is bullshit.” All the fury that builds within your chest suddenly collapses, taking the air in your body with it. Dizzy, you nearly collapse against the porch steps. “I-I can’t keep doing this, bee.”
Jonathan quickly pulls you to his chest, terrified. “What are you saying?”
“I–” Though despite how hard you try, you can’t put into words the unrelenting dread that aches your bones. How the dread has been there ever since you were twelve hearing your father’s suitcase hitting the floor. How dread followed you when Will first disappeared, only getting worse with every year that passes. With every death that follows. “I can’t keep being helpless.”
“You aren’t–”
“I couldn’t save Max. I couldn’t save Hawkins or Bookstrordinary. I don’t know where Vecna is or if he’s even still alive. I don’t know anything. I-I don’t have any sense of goddamn control, so how the fuck am I supposed to help anyone–”
“Enough.” The fury in Jonathan’s voice breaks the remaining incoherence that drowns you. Like lifting your head from water, his presence serves as a lighthouse warning of what lies ahead. “Enough, Y/N.”
Pressed so tightly into his chest, you can hear how erratically his heart beats.
“I won’t listen to anything else you have to say, alright?” Jonathan brushes hair out of your face, gentle as always. “I’m sorry, but you’re wrong.”
You try to pull away. “But–”
“There’s nothing that you could’ve done differently,” he says with a softened voice. He pauses, thinks over his words, before exhaling deeply. “And there’s nothing you can do now except allow the time to pass.”
In his words, the last of your fight ebbs away. Body limp, you allow Jonathan’s fingers to press between your shoulder blades. Quietly, you confess, “I don’t know how.”
“By letting the time pass together,” Jonathan kisses your forehead. “All we have left is each other, bug.”
“And the others?”
He nods. “And the others. They’re all we have left in this shitty town.”
For now, Jonathan’s words are enough. They may not remedy the wounds, but their burn becomes manageable.
In the distance, leftover smoke rises from the ground. The last of the fires. Its smoke darkens the midday clouds, leaves a trace of red behind, and its presence taunts what you already know.
This isn’t the end. Only the beginning.
–
You come to mark the passage of time through grief.
One month after Hawkins falls apart, the town holds a commemorative service for all the lives lost that day. Hawkins, though always a small town, somehow looks even smaller piled together within the cemetery amongst an endless sea of portraits of those never found.
You wear your mother’s favorite pair of mary janes. Tears sting your eyes, though they don’t fall. Dustin stands next to you, unmoving, eyes never leaving Eddie’s forever nineteen-year-old smile. His portrait stands at the very end of the ceremony procession. Only Wayne Munson leaves a flower in his honor while the rest of the portraits receive bouquets.
Steve holds tightly onto your waist throughout the ceremony. His fingers melt against the overheated skin, but never once does he pull away. He insisted on coming along, not wanting to leave Dustin alone as he buried an old friend.
“We’ll get through this, you know.” Steve whispers into your ear during one of the speeches, feeling the tension in your ribcage and the familiar scar from when you were sixteen. “Everyone will be okay.”
You don’t have the heart to tell him that you’ve long stopped believing in fairy tales.
After the service, Steve drives you and Dustin home.
It’s then that the onset of your brother’s anger ebbs to the surface.
“I don’t know why you’re crying, Y/N.” Dustin says from the backseat, breaking the silence that had once been there before. “You never even liked Eddie, anyways.”
You flinch at his words, quickly wiping away the tears you thought he’d be unable to see. Surprised by the lack of venom in his tone, yet unnerved by the words themselves, you turn your head slightly and meet his gaze. “He didn’t deserve to die, Dustin.”
“Yeah, no shit.” The kid huffs sarcastically. “Good to know you finally caught on.”
Your eyebrows furrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It doesn’t matter anymore,” Dustin undoes his seatbelt and exits the car before Steve has even put it in park. “I’ll see you guys inside.” He says, bored, before slamming the door shut.
Left alone with Steve, you sit in stunned silence.
It’s Steve who breaks first. “What the hell was all that about?”
“He’s mourning.” Though even you can’t quite believe the excuse.
Steve shakes his head furiously. “Bullshit. The kid can mourn, but he can’t lash out at you, either.”
Shame darkens your cheeks. Looking down at your hands, you feel small. “But I did the same to him. Back when our dad left.”
“You were twelve, angel. He’s almost three years older now than you were then.” Steve’s hand settles upon yours. He traces the lines of your palm, slowly, carefully, long having memorized the way it can make you shiver. “What he said wasn’t fair to you.”
But I wasn’t fair to him, either.
Abandonment makes you cruel.
Your father taught you and Dustin that.
“He just needs some time,” you exhale softly, Jonathan’s words from a few weeks prior echoing within your mind. “Time will pass, and Dustin will come back to us when he’s ready.”
“Like you came back?”
Just because dad left it doesn’t mean you can be a bitch.
My sweet girl.
You’re just… scary right now.
I miss you, ladybug.
Their voices swirl around in your head. Your brother and mother and father and all their pleas for you to come back to them when you were twelve and believed that cruelty could cure the bitterness of abandonment and longing.
“He’ll come back,” you finally respond, swallowing down unease. “He has to.”
Steve bites his lip. Words unsaid threaten to spill out, but he swallows down his own unease and settles on admiring the way the moonlight shades your hair, making it ethereal. He will never get over your beauty.
“I love you, angel.” He whispers in the dark, not looking for anything other than the warmth of your smile.
And you do smile. Because how could you not, knowing how lucky you are to be loved? “I love you, too, honey.”
In the seclusion of Steve’s car, you find the solace you’ve sought after ever since the fourth toll of the grandfather clock.
–
A few months later, an unnamable sensation of grief hits you, seeing all the empty chairs during your graduation ceremony; students who never lived to see graduation.
“C’mon, angel,” Steve had said earlier that morning, tearing your blankets off your exhausted body with an infuriatingly charming smile. “Can’t skip out on your own graduation. Especially considering you made me attend mine.”
You should’ve known Steve would be an insufferable asshole about the whole “graduation” thing. The thought of not having El and Max in attendance was almost too much to bear, so when you told everyone that you didn’t want to go to your ceremony, Steve had a bigger meltdown than your own mother.
“Your graduation wasn’t set during the end of the fucking world,” you huffed, yanking the blankets back over yourself. “Leave me alone.”
“We both know that I’m incapable of leaving you alone.” He throws a pillow at you. “Now get up. Robin said she’d only wait in the car for five minutes before storming your room to ‘see what silks you slumber in’. Her words. Not mine.”
You were about to throw the pillow right back at Steve, but then your eyes landed on the flowers he’d set on your desk, full of beautiful baby pinks and blues that matched the cardigan he once stitched his initials into, and you couldn’t help but give into his charm.
Asshole.
In the end, Steve gently guides you out of bed. He helps you brush your tangled hair, neatly arranges your gown and the dress that your mom had worn to her own high school graduation, and even manages to convince Robin to cook breakfast so that you’d have extra time to get ready.
Sometimes your love for Steve is enough to forget the nightmares, at least for a little while.
The graduation ceremony itself is the first community wide event since the commemoration. Old friends and neighbors and coworkers sit in the bleachers eagerly, anxiously, awaiting the old tradition of a graduation ceremony. Itching for a sense of normalcy.
Yet on every side of the bleachers stands a private military party, watching their every move. Their guns shine cruelly in the May sunshine.
At the very last row of students, you catch Nancy’s eye and nod your head at the soldiers. She sees them, rolls her eyes, and then fake gags. Robin notices the interaction, seated just a row or so ahead of you, and she boos childishly at the soldiers.
The small act is enough to get you to laugh. You wish that it was Nancy and Robin seated next to you. You wish that you could hold their hands and seek the assurance that only they can provide.
Dressed in the tacky orange graduation gown provided by the school, you sit by yourself, surrounded by vacated seats, cannibalizing yourself on guilt.
You don’t deserve to be the one left standing.
Then, tucked in the corner of your eye, you notice one solitary, bright sign waving frantically in the air.
Proud to be Y/N Henderson's.
Messily drawn arrows in multiple colors point down to the ensemble of young teens waving the sign up and down.
Dustin notices you looking first. He waves wildly and harshly jerks his elbow into Mike’s side to get attention. It’s been so long since your brother has smiled quite like is now.
“Guys! Y/N is looking!”
The two boys quickly quarrel, Mike hitting Dustin back and Dustin simply smacking his chest, before the two boys catch Lucas’ and Will’s attention and suddenly all four boys begin jumping excitedly, cheering, very nearly almost taking your mother’s eye out with the sign.
Yet she screams louder than anyone else, pointing at you and whistling and buzzing with so much energy that your brother has to hold down her shoulders before she knocks them both off the stands.
Jonathan stands beside your mother with a small, fond smile. He hadn’t been able to graduate with you, Robin, and Nancy due to technically still being enrolled in California, yet he never once frowned or complained. Instead, he took your graduation portraits and in every picture, your smile is genuine.
And then you see Steve.
Standing in the sunlight, a vision of gold and honey, he is a warmth that can only be found in rhymes and enamoration.
Steve is all that love envies to be called.
He screams your name over and over again. A force of adoration that demands to be seen. That demands to be believed in. To be lived for.
Taut strings constrict your lungs seeing everyone you’ve ever loved, adoring you just as fervently as you adore them. The strings ache with grief, too, from the absence of Max and El, and the grief intertwines so tightly together with love that you can’t breathe, yet they reveal to you what you already know.
Tomorrow you’ll mail the letter that sits at your bedside table at home. It was written after the very first time you saw Max in her hospital bed.
Addressed to New York University, you’ve rescinded your enrollment due to "unforeseen circumstances”.
You can hear Dustin’s laughter in the crowd. Mike’s taunts and Will’s fondness and Lucas’ intervention and Robin’s joy and Jonathan’s soft bug and Nancy’s quiet congratulations and Steve’s lovesickness and your mother’s pride.
Knowing Max would’ve shouted your name louder than anyone else. That El would’ve made her own sign for you.
How could you ever leave them?
How could you even think to?
You can’t. It’s as simple as that.
–
July comes and before you know it you’re eighteen.
You spend the day in the hospital waiting room.
The plan was to wake up early enough so as not to alert your mother or Dustin before biking the three miles to the hospital, where you’d walk up to the front desk and declare yourself a visitor of Max Mayfield.
Except the minute you stepped foot inside the hospital, your entire body shut down.
You fell against one of the waiting room chairs, where you remain for the rest of the day. Every time you try to get up, to go and see Max after months of not visiting, nausea creeps up your throat and threatens to spill out.
The guilt eats you alive.
For hours you sit inside the waiting room. Blank, white walls surround you. Nurses walk past without a glance. Your muscles pull together, body begging to enclose around yourself, to protect yourself, and in fighting the urge to flee, exhaustion wins over.
“Y/N?” The voice startles you awake. After years of never ending monsters and scars, you jolt upright and reach for your knives, aiming them towards the source of the voice, who exclaims, “It’s me, Y/N!”
“Lucas?” You quickly put the knives away, embarrassed by your overreaction. “Fuck, I’m sorry!”
The teen tentatively lowers his hands. “It’s alright,” he breathes out, forcing a laugh. “I should be the one apologizing for scaring you.”
You shake your head, wincing. “You know I hate when you boys apologize to me.”
“And you know that we’ll always be doing something worth apologizing for.” Lucas’ laugh now comes genuinely as he takes a seat next to you. His shoulder presses against yours and he winks, all charm. “What are you doing here, anyways? You’re an adult now. You should be off in a retirement home or something.”
Despite the knots in your stomach, Lucas still is able to pluck laughter out of you. “I’m eighteen, not eighty.”
“Same difference.”
A gentle silence follows. You haven’t answered Lucas’ question, though he doesn’t push you for more. He’s always been smarter than the party gives him credit for. In the months Lucas has visited Max, he never once has seen you.
Now, the day you turn eighteen, he finds you shell shocked in the hospital waiting room.
Lucas doesn’t blame you for not visiting Max. No one does. It’s become an unspoken rule within the party not to mention the girl around you, something that Lucas mourns the most. He recognizes the signs of guilt. They’re the same signs that he finds within himself more and more every day.
“I don’t blame you, you know.” Lucas says softly.
All the air gets knocked from your lungs. You’ve heard those words before. Once, exactly one year ago, Joyce had told you that she didn’t blame you, either. She saw how deeply the scars of guilt etched themselves into your skin.
Your eyes close. Sometimes the dark makes it easier to hide from the truth. “Max almost died because of me.”
Lucas scoffs. “Bullshit. It was Vecna. He was the one who tried to kill her.”
“But I should’ve done more.” The familiar grief chokes your words. When Lucas tries to refute what you’ve said, you quickly shake your head. “I should’ve been with you and Erica that night. Not Max. It should’ve only been me as the bait.”
“What, and leave Max with the others in the Upside Down? Would that have been any better?”
Your eyes widen. “God, of course not, but–”
Lucas grabs your hand, voice harsh, yet gentle all the same. “Y/N, you have to come back from the past.”
“I don’t–”
“You keep saying that you should’ve done more, as if you didn’t put your life on the line to save Max’s. As if you years prior you hadn’t spent each and every day devoting yourself to the party and everyone else around you.” Lucas’ voice catches suddenly, choked and stifled. “You almost died, Y/N, and if you had ended up like Max…I don’t think I would’ve survived losing the two of you.”
Lucas clenches his jaw. He swallows back the tears. “Whenever I can’t sleep, you let me call you, even when I don’t say anything the entire time. You pack me snacks every time I visit Max. Every Friday you make sure that I’m not alone on the weekends.” He swallows again, exasperated in fondness. “You keep saying that you should’ve done more, even though you’re already doing more than I could ever ask for.”
Eyes softening, Lucas twists your intertwined hands. “I mean, what else could I even want? Max still has a chance. She could come back to us any minute. And you? You’re here. You’re here, stuck in the present with me and the party, including your obnoxious brother, and I’d consider myself a pretty lucky bastard because of it.”
Unable to bear the distance any longer, you fling yourself out of the hospital chair and into Lucas’ arms. He’s grown so much taller in just a few short months. He’s leaner now, stronger, far from the little boy you once met all those years ago, yet still entirely your dearest friend.
Lucas allows you to hold him for as long as you need. He ignores the tears that wet his shirt and the uncomfortable angle of his neck in favor of holding onto you as tightly as you’ve always held onto him.
Eventually you let go, not bothering to wipe your eyes or hide the flush on your face. Never one for crying in front of others, you know that with Lucas, it’s safe to.
“I’ll go get you some water.” He guides you back to your seat. “Stay here, okay?”
You nod, falling back against the chair to rest your exhausted head. Your entire body aches, and everything that Lucas told you settles heavily in your chest.
“Here,” he returns quickly, handing you a styrofoam cup. You thank him, and he shrugs. “It’s the least I could do after snitching on you to Steve.”
You nearly spit out your water. “I’m sorry?”
“I called him, told him you were here and about five seconds away from a panic attack.” Lucas grins, not at all ashamed. “He’ll be here pretty soon.”
“Lucas!”
“It’s not like I lied!” He holds his hands up in defense. “I love you, Y/N, but you can’t stay in this waiting room all day. Go home. Celebrate your birthday. Allow yourself to feel literally anything other than guilt, alright?”
Exhaustion wins over your pride. Crossing your arms, you turn your head away from Lucas. “Just so you know, I’d never snitch on you to Max. That was a low move.”
“You wouldn’t need to. She always finds out what I’ve done wrong before I can.”
Both you and the boy laugh, for once the warmth of Max’s memory doesn’t burn. It tickles your skin, cradles your heart. For now, you welcome the tenderness.
True to Lucas’ word, Steve arrives at the hospital within ten minutes.
“Jesus, are you alright?” He rushes over, inspecting your body for any signs of injury or distress. Worry writes itself over his pretty face, and you hate that you’re the cause of it.
“I’m fine, honey.” You take his anxious hands into yours and steady them.
“I mean, are you sure? Lucas called and said that–”
Rolling your eyes at Lucas, you tug Steve away. “He’s a liar and unreliable narrator.”
Lucas waves goodbye. “I love you too, Y/N.”
“Tell Max I said ‘hi’!” You blow him a quick kiss before turning back to Steve. “Can we go home now?”
Steve swings your interlocked hands back and forth, relieved to see that you’re okay. “Of course we can.”
The second you exit the hospital, all the air returns to your lungs. You inhale sharply, the July sun beats down on your skin and welcomes you home.
An old Beatles song plays as you and Steve drive. He found the cassette at a garage sale and hasn’t stopped playing it since, knowing that the songs put you at ease. You stare out the window, content to simply watch the trees go by, but Steve never allows you to hide. Not when you only end up hurting yourself.
“What happened back there, angel?”
Cold silver slides between your fingers, the charms of your bracelet worn smooth from the nervous habit. Feeling the pendants fall together soothes you. All the kids are still with you. Steve is still with you.
“I wanted to see Max.” You confess, eyes following the horizon outside the window. You’re not quite ready to meet Steve’s gaze.
You hear the breath he lets out and the words he bites back. He has never fully understood how to approach the loss of Max with you. Some days you’re alight with her memory, sharing stories with Dustin and Lucas as you drive them to Mike’s. Other days he finds you locked in your room, unable to move.
Steve knows that today you were paralyzed.
“How long were you there for?”
You unconsciously pull at the knife charm. A gift from Max. “I don’t know. Long enough for Lucas to find me, I guess.”
“I’m sorry, angel.” Steve doesn’t know what else to say. You still haven’t looked at him and he worries that any minute you’ll break the charms off your bracelet with how anxiously you twist them between your fingers.
The sympathy washes over you in uncomfortable, overly warm waves. You never thought grief could be so stiflingly hot. Clenching your fists, you finally release the bracelet. “I just wish I could tell her that I miss her.”
I wish I could tell her how sorry I am. How much I wish I could trade places with her.
Though it goes unsaid, Steve hears it anyways.
He thinks for a moment, rolls your grief over and over in his head. Words have never been Steve’s friend, but he knows how easily you lose yourself in them. How desperately you cling to them for comfort, for joy and for love.
Then it hits him.
“What if you could talk to Max without ever actually having to see her?”
Finally your eyes find Steve’s. “What do you mean?”
“She wrote us letters once,” he reaches for your hand, aching to hold you. “Why don’t you return the favor?”
Every day you fall in love with Steve just a little bit more. Your love for him has become an endless well, its depths unknown, yet inviting despite it all.
“I think that’s a lovely idea, honey,” you bring his knuckles to your lips, kissing them softly. “Though I’m a little upset I didn’t think of it myself.”
“Gotta find reasons for you to keep me around.” Steve winks. He’s just relieved to see you smiling again.
Your face burns from how hard you smile. “I’ll always keep you around, dummy.”
“Good. The dating scene is currently awful in Hawkins.”
You pinch Steve’s arm, causing him to yelp, and the two of you break into a fit of childish laughter that mends the remaining heartache in your ribcage.
–
The letters you write to Max become your lifeline.
Every week you sit at your desk and play her favorite songs as you write to your long-lost penpal. As naive as it may be, the letters are enough to convince the hope-ridden part of your brain that Max is alive.
Nothing goes unsaid in what you write to her. For the first time in your life, you talk about anything and everything without the fear of being selfish.
Only Lucas knows what you write; he’s the one who reads them to Max.
In the letters you write endless lines about how much you miss Max and her wit. Often you beg her to wake up, to keep fighting, though you try to remind her of all the good, too.
You inform her of the food shelter that you now volunteer at, which started after you stress baked more cookies than anyone could ever eat, and how you now bake for the recipients every single week.
To include as much of the good as possible, you share stories about the party that you know she’d love. Mike walking into the wrong homeroom his first day and embarrassing himself. Lucas’ growing talent for basketball and how proud you are of him. Will and how lovely it is to have him back, often helping you bake.
In the letters you try to paint Dustin in a light that isn’t anger or resentment, though it gets harder with every passing day. He’s stopped interacting with you or Steve, tired of the interactions somehow ending in an argument with Steve and worry from you.
What you write to Max instead are anecdotes of your brother. The brief moments of the little brother you miss dearly, like how he still prefers mint chocolate chip ice cream over vanilla and how he still smuggles your comics.
In these letters you tell Max about Hopper’s return and how hard El trains these days to outrun the endless hunting she endures and how much you wish she could just be a kid.
And as hard as you try to keep the letters a source of comfort and good, lately you’ve found yourself scribbling about the goddamn crawls.
And you fucking hate the crawls.
They were Hopper’s idea. Which is never a good sign.
“We need to figure out when those militaristic morons do their sweep of the Upside Down. They still think El is there somewhere.” Hopper announced to the group one day, crowding everyone inside the Byers’ abandoned home.
“But what does that have to do with us?” Nancy asked, looking around at everyone.
“I go in after them.”
Immediately the house broke out into objections.
Hopper waved his hands up, demanding silence. “We know more about the Upside Down than those assholes claim to know. We know that Henderson’s radio tech can penetrate through underground facilities run by Commies. We also know that he’s annoyingly smart and can figure out a way to track me while I’m tracking Vecna.” He then looked to Dustin. “Right?”
Your brother hesitated. “I mean, maybe, but–”
“You’re out of your mind,” you scoffed at Hopper. “We may not know much about whatever the hell they’re doing in the Upside Down, but we know for a fact that you’d be outnumbered practically 100 to 1.”
Joyce had nodded, stepping next to you. “She’s right, Hop. It’s too dangerous out there.”
“Not if we’re smart about it.” Hopper motioned to the room. “For this to work, I need everyone in this room to stay quiet, blend in, and focus on the crawls.”
“‘The crawls’? What, you’ve already named this thing?” Mike crossed his arms. “No way. We don’t even have any way to contact the military. How the hell are we supposed to figure out their every move?”
“That’s where Murray comes in.” Hopper smiled.
Dustin then stepped forward, getting everyone’s attention. “Alright, no. For this to even hypothetically work, I’d need something way stronger than Cerebro to make contact with the Upside Down. Now unless someone here has an ultra powerful HAM radio up their ass, I doubt this will even work.”
“I mean, it’s not shoved up my ass, but I may have a solution,” Robin suddenly spoke up. “My neighbors, the Geralds, you know them? Super old, they kinda smell like canned corn, oddly enough. Anyways, they own the WSQK radio tower but Mrs. Gerald absolutely hates it when her husband climbs up the tower for maintenance work.”
Hopper stared at her. “What are you getting at?”
“Well, Mr. Cop, I think I’d be able to convince them to give me access to the tower in exchange for Steve’s handyman abilities.”
Your boyfriend choked on his spit. “Why am I–”
“I can talk to them, too.” Nancy interrupted. “I can show them my resume, maybe convince them with my journalism background.”
“The tower could work.” Dustin hummed.
And before you could stop it, the pieces fell into place.
In the end Nancy and Robin were able to sweet talk the Geralds into giving them the radio tower’s keys. With access to the tower, Dustin was able to figure out a way to both trace and track radio frequencies in the Upside Down within two weeks.
It takes several meetings between El, Hopper, Joyce, Nancy, Dustin, and Mike to figure out exactly how the crawls should work.
Within a month, Murray secures a web of information reliable enough for the first crawl to take place.
Somehow, it works.
And it’s the first time you’ve felt true hope since Vecna’s burning body fell to the ground.
Until one crawl becomes five without any answers as to where Vecna is. After the tenth unsuccessful crawl you stop holding your breath that he’ll be found. When Hopper returns from the fifteenth crawl without his dead body, you stop holding any hope at all.
The crawls become an endless abyss of the reminder that you failed.
You fucking hate them.
The only good thing that the crawls bring you is The Squawk.
“Welcome back, Hawkins! You’re listening to WSQK The Squawk!” Robin’s voice plays over the radio’s speaker placed on the table, followed by a loud squawk from the rubber chicken Steve found in the trash can one day and couldn’t bear to leave. “Today was brought to you by yours truly, Rockin’ Robin, with my wonderful copilot Soundy Steve, who I should really come up with a better name for.”
You laugh to yourself, scribbling your final disdainful thoughts about the latest crawl to Max while sitting in the radio tower’s communal lounge.
Jonathan and Nancy sit to your left, reading over the newest map of the Upside Down with updated information from Hopper. They’re both quiet, though gentle with each other, and you’re secretly relieved to see them working together without any underlying tension.
Across from you Dustin hunches over the table, working on some tracking tag for the next crawl. He looks relaxed, young again, without the scowl that seems to mar his face these days.
You close your eyes for a moment, listening to Robin’s quips and Steve’s amusing sound effects. The moment is peaceful, almost even nostalgic. You hate how rare moments like these have become.
“Now, my dear listeners, I have a special final song lined up for today.” Robin’s smile is evident in her voice. “It was requested for Hawkins’ sweetheart. You know who you are, pretty girl. I was specifically told to tell you that this song is from your ‘sweetest admirer’.”
You’re an angel.
And you’re sweet honey.
You’ll never forget that night in Steve’s car, dressed for a Snowball and falling in love faster than you could ever imagine.
“This song proclaims love, devotion, and all the other lovey-dovey synonyms that this admirer insists on making me say,” Robin continues. “It’s also tastefully written by a band named after a bug, which just so happens to be this pretty girl’s original nickname. Pretty ironic, if you ask me.”
Jonathan stiffens, fingers frozen above the map. Nancy catches the reaction and shifts uncomfortably in her seat. The tension returns. As it always seems to do. Neither look at you, despite how obvious it is that it’s you who Robin is talking about.
“Anyways, this sweetest admirer wanted me to deliver a message before the song begins. He proudly states ‘sorry about your brother’. Wow! How inspirational!” Robin drops the record’s needle and the beginning notes of I Will play over the radio. “Now enjoy this bittersweet melody by the Beatles.”
Though you can’t hear her above Dustin slamming down a piece of metal. “Your boyfriend is a jackass, Y/N.”
He leaves before you can stop him.
Tears burn your eyes. Unable to look at Jonathan and Nancy in fear of their reaction, you force your head down and scribble the final sentence to Max: I’ve come to measure the passage of time through grief.
The broadcast ends. Steve’s laughter echoes through the floorboards as he congratulates Robin on another successful show.
You remain where you are, too anxious and wound up to go upstairs and join them. Really, all you want to do is go home and crawl into bed, pretending that the last year and a half has all been an awful, horrible dream.
Instead Steve sprints down the stairs and grabs your hand, quickly forcing you to your feet before running with you outside. He’s a mess of excitement and boyish charm. “C’mon, angel!”
The rush of it all coaxes a laugh out of your worried mouth. Dizzy from love and adrenaline, you follow after Steve.
How could you ever tell him no?
He guides you to a clearing near the radio tower. The early fall weather casts a honey-like glow over the fields, turning the green grass into melancholic gold. Birds sing above in the trees and soft dandelions dance around your ankles.
Steve finds a small patch of untouched grass and sits down, tugging you into his lap. His arms wrap around you and he rests the crest of his nose against your hair. He breathes in deeply, his chest rises with yours, and you allow the sun to kiss your skin.
“I got you something,” he murmurs against your shoulder.
You lean against his chest. “Tell me.”
Steve removes an arm, rustles through his pockets, before opening his palm out to you. “Figured you had some space left on that charm bracelet of yours.”
The three small charms shine in the sunlight.
A bird, a mirror, and a record.
You don’t have to ask who they’re meant to represent. Carefully you touch the pendants, in awe of their beauty. “How did you…?”
“Robin has been begging me to give you the bird charm since we found it a few weeks ago. She claims she’s long past due to be included in the bracelet.” Steve chuckles. “As for Nancy, she took the mirror from one of her old charm bracelets. Said you’d understand why.”
“And Jonathan?” You can’t help but want to know.
Steve bites his lip. “He said that the two of you grew up with each other’s music. He wanted it to mean something.”
“They all mean something.” You gently remind him, looking down at the rest of the charms that all represent the children you so fiercely adore.
“I know,” he kisses your brow. “That’s why I wanted them on your bracelet. Nancy and Robin and Jonathan. I… I know how hard all of this has been for you, so I figured this way, we’re all together.”
“Together,” you echo softly, the memory of Jonthan once saying the same to you gently.
“It’s the only way we’ll get through this.” Steve kisses your cheek, then your nose. “We have to be able to do this together.”
You lean into the affection, warmth cascading through you. “Thank you,” you breathe out, encased in the love that only Steve can make you feel. “Thank you.”
He kisses you over and over again. He kisses your mouth, your hands, your wrists and your neck. In the field he whispers promises into your skin.
Together. Together. Together.
Over and over his lips seal the promise into your shoulders, your hair, your chin. Anywhere they can reach, anywhere the sun can kiss you as well.
You’re all together now.
And you try to believe him.
-
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