Joyce had never been more tired than she was at this moment. It was in every one of her bones, stuck deep into her soul, and it felt like it would never go away now. She wanted to wrap herself up in a dozen blankets and never resurface, become a female Rip Van Winkle. Maybe slip into her bed and cry for a little while over Bob. Sweet, kind, gentle Bob, who would still be alive if he had never gotten mixed up with her.
But she couldn’t fall apart over that just yet. There was still one more kid she needed to take care of tonight.
“Hi sweetheart,” Joyce said softly, squatting next to where the boy was slumped down on her couch. The kids were all clustered up around him, fast asleep. They had been like this when she and her sons had returned, and Will had quickly found his place in their pile, tightly pushed next to Mike and El and falling asleep in an instant. Only one was left awake.
“Hi Mrs. Byers,” Steve murmured back, barely opening his eyes. Dustin snuffled impossibly closer as Steve shifted to somewhat sit up, curling up against his ribs and sighing. Steve idly played with the younger boy’s hair, clearly completely out of it. She had no idea where he had gotten all of these injuries, but it was too late to ask about that now. Steve blinked slowly at her and sighed
“‘M sorry. Fell sleep. Meant t’stay up,”
“That’s fine,” She cooed, pushing any exhaustion lingering in her bones back. Will was taken care of, Jonathan was in his own bed with Nancy, but there was still a child in front of her that needed her. She could focus on him, and not on the grief that was waiting patiently at the back of her mind. She needed to focus on taking care of Steve. Just for now.
Joyce carefully reached up and slowly pushed Steve’s hair away from his face, minding where his injuries were. Steve melted into her touch, letting out a soft shaking sigh as the tension leaked out of him like air out of a balloon.
“What hurts?” Joyce whispered, holding his chin in one hand as she put the tiniest bit of pressure against the injury along his hair line. Steve winced anyway, but didn’t pull away from her touch.
“My face. My ribs. Everything, kinda,” Steve shrugged.
“That looks like a pretty nasty cut,” She agreed, keeping her tone light even as her concern continued to mount, “Can you come with me and let me clean you up a bit? Maybe put on some pajamas or something?”
Steve finally pulled away at that, forcing himself to sit up and roughly rubbing his palms against his eyes. Joyce wanted to grab his hands to keep them away from his already injured face, cringing at the harsh way he pushed against the bruises marking his cheeks.
“Oh no it’s okay. I’m gonna go home I think. I just wanted to wait till you and Hop got back,” Steve mumbled, practically rambling as he tried and failed to force his body to stand.
“Okay, okay,” Joyce said, doing her best to soothe him into lying back on the couch. There was zero way she was allowing this boy to go home and lick his wounds in isolation, but she needed to phrase it in a way that would make Steve not fight her. Joyce couldn’t handle that tonight.
Then it came to her all at once.
“Can you do something for me?” Joyce asked softly, running her fingers back through his hair again.
“Mhm,” Steve hummed, nodding immediately. She didn’t know Steve particularly well, but given everything she had seen, and given what she had learned through the few interactions with Jonathan and Will that he had had, the boy was clearly a caretaker. If she phrased it right, she might even get him to see her patching him up as him somehow taking care of her.
“If you left now, I would be scared for you all night long,” Joyce began, keeping her voice soft and patient as she tried to find the right words, “Would you let me take care of you? Just so I feel better?”
Steve stared at her through his bloodied eye for almost a solid minute after Joyce stopped speaking. She wasn’t sure what exactly he was working through, but she didn’t falter. She didn’t look away, didn’t pause in the gentle touch.
Joyce didn’t mind giving him the time. There were a thousand things she didn’t want to think about right now. It felt good to just be able to help, even if it was something as small as a mother’s touch.
“Okay,” Steve whispered, leaning into her hand and closing his eyes.