#gates of hell

The heat of the explosion fanned across his face, throwing him back into the mall with enough force to stretch a burning pain across his body. He gasps for air, vision blurring in the smoke, lungs barely taking a breath.

Something sharp hits his stomach, but he barely notices, eyes watching a shadow move closer to him, heart leaping into his throat.

“Harrington, you okay? Harrington!”

He knew that voice, but his mind still swarmed, fading in and out as he struggled to stay awake.

Another shadow. This one, much bigger. The voice in front of him turns to it, something incomprehensible falling from their lips as they take one last look down at Steve’s almost lifeless body.

“Tell…”

The rest of the sentence goes unheard, something like a roar piercing through the room. He can barely see now, his ears all he had left to make sense of what was happening around him.

Gunshots, screams. Horrific sounds of something slicing into meat.

Then a hard thud of a body hitting the ground in front of him, a strange pain in his heart until he succumbed to unconsciousness completely.

“Steve.”

“Steve, wake up.”

“Steve!”

Steve jolts awake, head whipping up as he breaks away from his dreams, body slick with sweat.

“Hey, hey. You’re okay.”

He blinks through the dark room, feeling the soft touch of hands caress his face as he pants for air, searching for the person beside him.

“I’m right here, Steve. It’s okay.”

His glassy eyes finally settle on you, your beautifully concerned face illuminated under the rare sighting of a moon from the curtainless window behind him. He instantly reaches out for you, and you hold him close, your heartbeat all he needs to hear to steady his own.

“What happened?” You whisper into his hair, and the words stay stuck in his throat. “Another nightmare?”

“Something like that.” He mumbles, taking a deep breath and pulling away, something like guilt twisting his insides. “Shit, sorry. What time is it?”

“Um…” You hazily gaze at the small clock on your bedside table, “Four-ish.”

“I didn’t mean to wake you.” Steve sighs, running a hand down his face.

“It’s okay-”

“No, it’s not.”

The dark circles you wore beneath your eyes had, for the most part, appeared because of him. Steve couldn’t sleep anymore without the night at the mall creeping back into his consciousness. At first, it had been easier to deal with; just a recollection of the event exactly how he remembered it. But it’s become so much more than that. He’s started dreaming things he didn’t remember about that night, shadows that felt familiar yet alien at the same time. Like his memory was trying to show him things he had repressed.

And each time it tried, he woke up in a cold sweat and embraced in a helpless show of affection that only made him feel guiltier. You had enough to deal with. He didn’t need you worrying about him, either.

“Maybe… maybe I should start sleeping in my own room.” He says quietly, and he can feel your hands still at his side. “Just until… until I stop having these nightmares. It’s not fair that you’re not getting any sleep over this.”

“Steve. Look at me.”

He manages to drag his eyes over to you, your hand sliding up his arm to rest around the nape of his neck, ensuring he doesn’t look away.

“What’s going on?” You ask so innocently it physically hurts. “You can tell me.”

I’m the reason Billy is dead. I lost Robin. I lied to everyone for months because I couldn’t let you go. The guilt is tearing me apart on the inside to the point where I can’t even stand to look in the mirror. I’m selfish, I’m unworthy, I-

“Nothing.” He replies, patting your arm and sliding out of the sheets, away from your touch. As soon as your fingertips left his skin, the voices stopped, and he cleared his throat. “I’m gonna shower, before everyone else wakes up. Get some sleep, okay?”

The hurt on your face didn’t go unnoticed, but you didn’t beg him to stay. Instead, you nod faintly, laying back down. His throat tightens as he grabs his clothes, taking one last look at your figure in the dark before he closes the door behind him.

“You’re up early.”

Your head turns to see Eddie’s tired expression, his hands already finding a coffee mug on the counter and searching for the cure to his early morning fatigue.

“Couldn’t sleep.” You respond, handing over the coffee jug to his delight.

“Hm.” He sounds knowingly, pouring a cup.

You lean back against the kitchen island, narrowing your eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“What?” He smirks, taking a sip, a lightness in his eyes that shouldn’t be making your stomach crawl.

“The ‘hm’.” You repeat, and Eddie shrugs.

“Just… hm. That’s all.”

“It was a weird ‘hm’.”

“You’re the one making it weird.” He raises his free hand as a surrender, grinning now as you bite back a smile.

When you meet his eyes in the comfortable silence, your smile starts to drop, hands tightening around your mug.

Eddie Munson was once your closest friend. When you first moved to Hawkins, your father had been living in the trailer park and somehow managed to squeeze your entire life into the only room he had, his nights mostly spent on the couch since he was never home much. It was lonely at the beginning. Until you met Eddie.

He was an outcast kid armed with a humorous wit in one hand and a blunt in the other. Robin had actually been the one to introduce you both, even if unknowingly. She called in sick to school, leaving you without a science partner. Lucky for you, the resident school burnout decided to grace the class with his presence that day, choosing the seat beside you, and you had been friends ever since.

Until you were caught smoking weed in the woods. Everything came tumbling down after that.

There was once a time where sharing a space like this would have come so easy to you. Now, it felt like you were tugging at a thread that had already come loose.

Eddie senses the shift in the air, his shoulders tightening. He bites his lip, studying the ground, searching for the words to say. Not that he got to say them.

“I, uh-”

“Morning.”

Jonathan Byers slips into the room with a practiced quietness, studying the coffee pot with a hesitant stare.

“Are we running low, yet?” He asks no one in particular, eyeing the last empty cup on the counter.

“We have enough to give an elephant the zoomies.” You respond with a snort, gesturing to the cupboard above his head. “It’s like, the only thing Hop ever brings back from the scavenges.”

“I think you mean looting expeditions.” Jonathan murmurs, lowering his voice to mimic the older man. “Why are you guys up so early anyway?”

He eyes Eddie’s tired body slumped against the wall, eyes barely staying open.

“The stupid moon kept me up.” Eddie grumbles and Jonathan frowns, sharing a look with you. You merely shrug. “Hey, it was bright, okay?”

“What about you?” Jonathan asks, setting his coffee down as he took a seat on the other side of the island. Before you can answer, he rests his chin on his hand and lowers his voice. “And please, I don’t want the gruesome details.”

You almost splutter up your coffee, glaring at the way both boys are snickering into their own cups. “You are both children.”

“As long as you don’t bring anymore in here. We’re a full house already.” Jonathan laughs, and you immediately throw a dishcloth at him.

While you and Steve were trying to keep your relationship a secret, there was only so much you could hide from your friends. You all lived under the same roof, ate dinner together, shared walls… Simply put, it was hard to keep a secret in this house.

“What’s the plan for today, anyway?” Jonathan changes the subject, the mood now solemn. “Did Hopper say anything after last night?”

“You mean when an evil mind lord locked us up like we’re in a snow globe?” Eddie mutters, eyes flickering to the window. Nothing could be seen from it, however. The planks of wood made sure of that.

The reminder of what lays behind it was like a punch to the gut. You kept slipping away from reality, becoming comfortable in the domestic nature of being surrounded by your friends and family. It made you feel sick, if anything, that you kept unknowingly pretending everything was fine.

“No, he didn’t.” You say quietly, “I overheard him talking to Joyce, though.”

“Anything we should know?” Jonathan queries, and Eddie straightens up now. You fully have their attention.

“They were talking about the kids.” You say quietly, reminded of the hushed voices behind the office door before you went to bed last night, the tremor in the mother’s voice. “I think they’re trying to figure out how to keep them safe.”

“How come Chief didn’t send them away in the first place? You know, when the military wanted to evacuate any survivors?”

Eddie posed a great question, one you’ve been asking yourself for the longest time. Your dad wouldn’t willingly keep young kids around during something like this unless it was absolutely necessary.

“I don’t know. But he wouldn’t be hiding them here if he didn’t have a good reason. He probably knows something we don’t.”

“Sounds about right.” Jonathan sighs, tapping his mug. He notices Eddie’s frown. “We usually don’t find anything out until we figure it out for ourselves. Welcome to the group.”

Eddie slowly nods, casting a glance at you, the look lingering longer than it should have. If Jonathan noticed the rising tension, he didn’t get the chance to voice his observation.

“Will?”

You’re the first to notice the young boy, setting your coffee mug down when you see him standing in the doorway, pajamas still on and a piece of paper in his right hand.

“Why are you up, buddy? Couldn’t sleep, either?” Jonathan asks with a tender voice he only used with his younger brother. He sees the glassy look on the boy’s face and immediately moves toward him, kneeling down.

“I saw something.” Will’s small voice explained.

“Like a nightmare?” Jonathan suggests, but his eyes are already finding yours, panicked.

“She needs help.”

“Who?”

Will hands his brother the paper, eyes trained to the floor. He looked more than spooked. Haunted, maybe. By whatever was on that paper.

“Y/n.” Jonathan whispers, and you quickly join his side, frowning when he hands you the paper.

You carefully take it from him, immediately recognising the strokes of crayon on the image presented to you.

The drawing was far too precise to be a coincidence. A small figure in the middle of the paper was unmistakenly Robin. She stood in what looked eerily similar to her real life room, the same Madonna and Bowie posters coating the walls if only recognisable by shape and colour.

In the corner of this room, however, was a shadow, darker and much more pigmented than the rest of the drawing, like Will had scribbled it over and over again.

“What is this?” You ask shakily, a distant look in the young boy’s eye that had your skin crawling.

Will doesn’t look at you, his arms trembling with fear. “She’s trapped. She can’t leave. It won’t let her.”

“Hey, it’s alright, it was just a nightmare, okay?” His older brother soothes.

Jonathan looks up at you as he pulls Will into a hug, searching your face as if you had the answers. You were still staring at the drawing, looking at the walls of your best friend’s bedroom with a fixed frown.

If it was just a nightmare, how did Will know what Robin’s room looked like?

Steve had been staring at the ceiling far longer than he’d care to admit, laying atop his bedsheets feeling cold and alone. He should have stayed with you. God knows he couldn’t sleep unless you were there beside him.

That look on your face when he left… ugh. As if he didn’t feel guilty enough already, he managed to outdo himself with every single mistake.

And you hadn’t said anything. You didn’t stop him from leaving, or argue with his self-deprecating thoughts like you usually would on nights his dreams tried to drown him. Maybe you were starting to see what Steve believed this entire time.

He was unfixable.

That’s not fair to you, he thinks, rolling over and closing his eyes. You just found out your best friend was somewhere out there and you had no idea how to reach her. You’ve already been through so much.

You didn’t deserve someone so selfish.

Because that’s who you are, Steve. You’re a selfish, miserable liar-

Loud voices echo from the hallway, relieving him from his own torture. He looks at the time. 7am.

“What do you mean it’s not important?!”

He flies out of bed at the sound of your voice, immediately pulling a sweatshirt over his bare torso and pulling open his door.

Across the hall, he can see the small gap in the office door, shapes moving behind them. You, mostly, your hands wild as Steve catches the desperate glare in your eye. Shit. Whatever it was, it was bad.

“I didn’t say that!” 

Hopper looks at you with wide eyes, jaw set. You weren’t entirely sure how you got from softly knocking his office door to an argument in a matter of seconds. A genetic trait, you think. It would be impressive if it weren’t so damaging.

“What are you really expecting is gonna happen?” Hopper continues, shaking his head like you were a child again. “That she’s just gonna be back home, patiently waiting in her room?! Do you understand how ridiculous that sounds?!”

You huff out a heated breath. He wasn’t listening. “Will saw-”

“Will had a nightmare and drew something about it! You can’t just risk lives over a doodle, Y/n! We need actual concrete evidence because if we’re dead, we ain’t helping her! Why can’t you just think before you-”

“Why don’t you ever listen to me?!” 

Something snaps in your voice, a break that sounds like a repressed cry. 

Unbeknownst to you, Steve abandons his doorway and instinctively moves closer to you, needing to be near you. 

“I know she’s there, dad, I can feel it.”

“I just got you back.” Hopper breaks now, and Steve pauses outside the door. “I can’t lose you over a feeling. Why can’t you just understand I’m trying to protect you?”

“Like you protected Robin?”

Hopper’s face falls, any rage dissipating into the air like he’d had a sharp slap to the face. You felt a bite of regret once the words left your mouth, but it wasn’t as if they weren’t truthful.

Robin had disappeared and been replaced by a shapeshifter. A monster. And no one had noticed. They couldn’t even be sure when the switch happened, and that’s what hurt you the most. It could have been a few days. It could have been months.

You wipe your eyes, swallowing the sobs scratching at your throat. You barely look at your father, already turning to the exit. “I didn’t come here for your permission, I just thought that maybe you’d want to know. Clearly I’m the only person that gives a shit about my best friend.”

The door swings open, and you halt at the sight of Steve. He gulps, looking between you and Hopper, caught.

“I…”

You don’t wait around for an excuse. You brush past him, not in hate but rather haste, needing to leave the room as quickly as possible. He watches you disappear down the staircase, his body aching to follow.

“She thinks she had a lead on Robin.” Hopper explains, voice hoarse from anger and exhaustion.

“You don’t think we should check it out?” Steve frowns, and Hopper sighs.

“That’s the thing. She wasn’t suggesting we do anything.” His eyes look up with a pleading nature he had only seen during that fight in the bunker several months back. The look only his daughter could create. “She wants to go alone.”

Steve’s jaw clenches.

“I know you two are… friends.” Hopper says, and Steve barely controls the hitch in his throat. “Can you-”

“I’ll talk to her.” He promises. Hopper pinches the bridge of his nose, eyeing the boy still stood in the doorway like he had something else to say.

Steve just nods, heading down the staircase, immediately spotting the gap in the front door. You’re sat outside now, knees brought up to your chest as you stared out past the wired fences on the porch.

He takes a breath, hand already on the door, when he sees you’re not alone.

“He’s right about one thing. You can’t go alone.” Jonathan says with a soothing voice that makes Steve’s fists curl. Of course, it had to be Jonathan.

“I’m just sick of people getting hurt because of me.” You admit, voice sadder than Steve has heard it before. “It’s like… I always make the wrong decisions. Or I think I’m helping, but I’m just making everything worse. And I don’t know how to stop feeling that way.”

Steve’s heart wrenches. You never told him that.

“No one thinks that.” Jonathan assures, “Hey, I’m serious. We’ve all done some pretty stupid things but I don’t think you’re even a contender for that list.”

“I don’t know about that.”

“Did something happen?” Jonathan lowers his voice, sneaking a glance behind him. Steve is thankfully hidden behind the door, holding his breath. “Did something happen with Steve?”

Steve’s shoulders stiffen. Fuck, he really shouldn’t be listening to this. Unfortunately, his curiosity got the better of him.

“Jon, seriously?” You say, faking a laugh. It wasn’t nearly as bright as your real laugh. “I told you, nothing is happening between us. We’re just friends.”

“Doesn’t mean you can’t fall out.”

“It…” You start, and then hesitate, sighing. “Nothing. It’s nothing.”

Footsteps can be heard approaching from the parlour, and Steve steps away from the door with a silent groan. He really didn’t want to be caught eavesdropping, and he certainly didn’t want to wrestle any longer with the image of you seeking Jonathan for comfort rather than him.

Did something happen with Steve?

You had an answer. Even if you didn’t say it, you had an answer. And all he could think about was what happened this morning. He was failing at everything, it seemed.

He wasn’t going to let you down this time. He was going to bring Robin back, whatever it takes.

“Shit.” He curses as he almost runs into someone, clearly far too distracted by his own thoughts to be paying attention to his surroundings.

“Sorry.” Nancy halts, raising her hands. “I wasn’t-”

She looks up at him, taken aback.

“Whoa, you look like hell.” She frowns, and Steve runs a hand through his hair, glancing over his shoulder. You were both still outside, thankfully. 

Steve goes to dismiss anything and brush past when an idea suddenly strikes his mind.

“Uh, Steve?” Nancy waves a hand in his face, confused as to why he was still standing there.

“I need your help.”

El looked scarily similar to Sara like this. Her smaller body hidden beneath the sheets, head resting gently against the pillow, her short curls framing her face. Except Sara never got up again, and El shifted in her bed with a bright smile when she saw you enter the room.

“Hi.” You smile, moving to close the door when you remember El’s preference, leaving it open by 3 inches instead. “I didn’t know if you were hungry, so I grabbed you a cookie. It’s no Eggo, but it’s pretty tasty.”

You leave the tissue-wrapped treat on her bedside table, perching beside her on the bed.

“Thank you.” She says, eyes drifting to the sheets at her legs.

“You okay?” You ask gently, noting how her face falls every so slightly.

Ever since the Voice got to her at the mall, she’s barely been able to walk without feeling fatigued. And her powers hadn’t returned to her, yet. She was clearly struggling, and it pained you to see it more than words could say.

“I wish I could help.” She finally says, looking up at you with her sweet doe eyes.

“You are.” You assure, grabbing her hand. “If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t know Robin was out there still. Because of you, we might be able to save her.”

El hums, relaxing her shoulders. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to settle her mind for a while.

“Max was asking about you.” You change the subject, eyeing how El’s face twists with indecision. “You guys are friends, right?”

She huffs, “Friends don’t lie.”

You frown, shifting closer to her. “What do you mean?”

“Mike told me friends don’t lie.” She reiterates, frowning. “And Max lied.”

“About what?”

Her mouth parts, but she doesn’t speak, swallowing whatever response was on her tongue. You narrow your eyes, playfully prodding at her arm.

“Hey. Tell me the gossip, El.” When she doesn’t respond, you let out an exaggerated sigh and swing your legs onto the bed, shuffling her over so you could lay down next to her. She looks at you with wide eyes, amused. “Fine. But I’m not leaving this bed until you do. I’ll sleep here if I have to, and you should know, I’ve been told I kick.”

You demonstrate with little force, making her break out of her stubborn silence with a giggle.

“Okay, okay!” She laughs when you continue, grabbing your leg with her hands. “I will tell you!”

“Alright, I’ll stop.” You grin, settling back into the bed. “What did Max lie about?”

El sighs, resting her head on your shoulder. “She said… she wasn’t sad.”

That makes you frown, already confused.

“She lied about being sad?”

El nods against you. “I saw her crying. I asked if she was okay, and she said she was fine. But she isn’t. Billy died, and she’s sad. She won’t talk to me about it.”

You place a kiss to the top of El’s head, pulling away just enough to look at her properly. She looked genuinely hurt at the memory, and you had to remind yourself El wasn’t like the other kids. She had even less of a grasp on emotions and friendships than any of you did.

“Sometimes we lie about how we feel because…I guess, because of so many reasons.”

“Like?” She asks innocently, and you purse your lips.

“Well, when we’re sad, we don’t always want people to know.” You try to explain as simply as you could, hoping it could make sense for her. “It’s complicated, but I don’t think Max wants to lie, she just… she wants to pretend.”

“Pretend?”

“Yeah.” You nod. “She wants to pretend she’s okay so it doesn’t hurt so much anymore. So, I guess she did lie. But I think she just needs a friend right now.”

El nods along to your words, frowning at the bedroom door, probably imagining Max and the potential of your proposal.

“Sometimes friends lie because the truth hurts them.” She decides, briefly smiling to herself like everything suddenly made sense.

Your breath hitches slightly at her discovery, blinking at how simple it all seemed to a girl who was still learning what it meant to be human.

“Yeah.” You sigh, “Yeah, I think you’re right.”

“Do daughters lie?” She suddenly asks and you clear your throat.

“Sometimes.” You shrug, trying not to think too hard about it. “But it’s mostly because we don’t want our parents to worry about us.”

“Like your fight with Hopper?”

You mentally curse. Of course she heard that. “Yeah, kinda. But I didn’t lie to him.”

“Do… sisters lie?”

She was sitting fully upright now, looking up at you with furrowed brows and an expression that told you she’d been thinking about this question for a long time.

“No.” You smile, holding her hand. “They tell each other everything. Even if it’s bad.”

Staring down at your hand, she starts to bite her bottom lip, a habit she was surely picking up from you now you spent so much time together. Eventually, she sighs.

“I have to tell you something.”

“About Max?” You frown, still smiling. The look on her face wipes away the smile immediately when she raises her head.

“About Steve.”

“And Hopper doesn’t want us investigating?”

“He doesn’t want her investigating.” Steve says, continuously looking over his shoulder to check the door was, in fact, closed. “I mean, can you blame him? He lost her for months, he’s clearly just scared something’s gonna happen again.”

Nancy’s arms were folded, her lips pursed together. A look she wore when she was concentrating on the facts, analysing and weighing up the cost of important decisions. Steve told her what he heard about Robin, hoping for some much needed help behind the closed door of his bedroom.

“Will saw something. Like a vision?” She asks again, and Steve just nods. “And Y/n thinks she’s at her house?”

“Apparently his drawing was super specific.”

Nancy looks back up at him, eyes flickering between his. “So, what are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking Robin needs help.” He says, leaning against his dresser. He remembers the desperation in your eyes. You needed her back more than anything. “And I want to bring her back. I just can’t do it by myself.”

“Is Hopper even gonna let us do this?” She asks knowingly, and Steve shrugs.

“If we have a concrete plan and a good team, yeah. I don’t see why he’d say no.”

“There’s a lot more to think about now, Steve.” Nancy bites her lip, shaking her head. “We don’t have an escape route if something goes wrong. We don’t even know what’s trapped in Hawkins with us, or if more gates are being opened- We…”

She takes a deep breath, eyes wide with sadness. “We don’t even know if she’s alive. For all we know, this is just a trap. That thing already got inside El’s head, and now Will? Like it isn’t a coincidence they both had visions of Robin barely a day apart?”

Nancy was always good at rationalising certain questions. It proved how smart she was to be able to study a problem from every angle possible. Far different from how Steve approached things. Especially now, as he attempted to consider her justification while pretending like his own guilt wasn’t outweighing his voice of reason.

“I keep trying to remember the last time I saw her. The real Robin.” He stares at his shoes now, ignoring the sharp pain of his gut twisting with his confession. “I remember talking to her before we went out to Weathertop, before… before everything changed again. And then I shut myself in my room and didn’t talk to anyone for days. When I finally had the guts to face you all, she was colder to me. I just assumed it was because of what I’ve done, but now I’m not so sure. Which sucks. It fucking sucks, because maybe she needed someone and I was too busy pretending like I was the only one missing Y/n when she was everything Robin had, like she wasn’t even Hopper’s daughter, and I did that-”

He takes a deep breath, stopping himself from saying anything further. I lied to you all, and if I didn’t Robin would still be here and no one would have gotten hurt-

“Steve.”

When he looks back at Nancy, her head is tilted, eyes light with sorrow and comfort.

“None of us knew.” She says softly, her voice much steadier than her trembling bottom lip. “I mean, I spent a whole day with her after we got that radio transmission, and I didn’t notice anything different. Which, yeah, you’re right, it does suck. But I didn’t know her well enough to realise she wasn’t the same. Neither did you. So, please, for your sake… stop blaming yourself.”

Steve is taken aback, blinking at her. “I’m not-”

“You are. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have asked me to help you.” She shrugs when Steve has nothing else to say. Her body shifts, eyes flickering to the ground. “Uh, unless… unless you’re doing this for Y/n. Which might have a completely different reason?”

He purses his lips, struggling to find anyway to avoid what she is insinuating.

“We, uh…”

Three taps rattle against his bedroom door before it’s propped open. Steve and Nancy both turn to the intrusion, faces falling when the name on their lips stands in front of them with a surprised frown.

“Oh, I, um…” You retract your hand from the doorknob, already backing away, “Sorry, I can come back later-”

“No.” Steve says quickly. Far too quickly, in fact, making your eyebrow raise. “Uh, no, we were just- It’s okay, really.”

Nancy can sense the tension before either of you can say anything further, offering a polite smile to you both. “I should make sure my brother’s up before Dustin and Lucas inhale all the cereal.”

She nods at you as she passes, avoiding your eyes with an ease that makes you frown all over again.

“You okay?” Steve asks before you can question their previous conversation, his brown eyes taking in all of you with a concern that always manages to make your heart flutter.

“Yeah.” You breathe out, slipping into the room and gently leaning against the door to close it. “I just… I actually wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Me?” He scrunches his face, drifting closer to you naturally. “Why wouldn’t I be okay?”

“Earlier.” You say, noting the way his jaw clenches immediately. “You just seemed pretty out of it, I guess. Not to sound like that kind of girl, but you’ve never just… left like that before. If there’s something I did-”

“Woah, wait, no.”

His arms are around you within seconds, tugging you closer until your face is almost buried into his chest. You sigh into the embrace, the relief lifting the weight you had been carrying.

Steve can feel it, too. He almost winces when he realises how much one simple, stupid decision made you feel like this.

“I’m sorry. You didn’t do anything wrong, I promise. I thought at least one of us should be getting some sleep, you know?”

You hum against him, pulling away just enough to look up at him with those beautiful eyes that made him weak in the knees. “For the record, I didn’t fall back asleep when you left. And it wasn’t because of your nightmare.”

His hand slips up your side and brushes a hair from your face, thumb stroking your cheek.

“I sleep better with you next to me, Harrington. Bad dreams and all.”

Waves of feeling wash him back to shore. Any doubt he had about himself faded behind the bright light of your smile. There was too much to say, so he settled for the comfortable option.

“Wow, didn't realise you liked me that much.”

You laugh, making him grin wider. “You’re such a doofus.”

“Uh, a doofus you have a crush on.”

“Oh my god, you’re so vain.”

“Kinda expected when the prettiest girl has a crush on you.”

“Wow.”

“I mean, really, you’re like, obsessed with me, so it must be for a good reason-”

“Just shut up and kiss me.”

You didn’t have to tell him twice. 

The moment your lips touched his, the world bled into a haze like it was a second-thought, his hand gently caressing your cheek as you sigh into his mouth. At first it was soft, just a small burst of light until it burned bright enough to heat up, the air shifting before either of you could notice it. His hand slips from your cheek to your neck, his other snaked around your hip, trying to desperately pull you closer. You cling to his sweatshirt, lost in his taste and touch, mind melting until only his name could be thought.

It wasn’t until you gasped for air that Steve realised he had been leading you to the bed, halting his movement and separating your lips. He rested his forehead against yours, catching his breath.

“Holy shit.” He breathes out, and you smile with your lips still tingling with his lingering kiss.

“I should probably leave before we, uh…” You couldn’t hide your grin as you slowly step back, his hand staying on your hip until you were too far to reach.

“Yeah, yeah, for sure.” He coughs, cheeks burning. You bite your lip as you look back at him, ready to leave. The glint in your eye was almost enough to make him fall to his knees.

“See you later, Harrington.” You say knowingly, and he could have fainted as you slip out of the room into the hallway.

His hands rake through his hair, poorly attempting to compose himself like the ghost of your lips wasn’t still whispering those sweet gasps into his ear.

Jesus, you were surely going to be the death of him.

Steve feels something hit his top lip, swiping at the strange sensation as his giddy smile slowly faded. He stares down at his fingers. Was that…

He rushes to the mirror in his room, wiping more away. His nose was bleeding, not an unusual occurrence, and he sighs. Way to ruin a perfect moment, he thinks, wiping his hands with a tissue.

A giant crash and a debilitating scream echo out from the house, making him viciously flinch in shock.

His hand had already found the bat resting against his nightstand, rushing out of his room and almost colliding with you as he did.

“Shit, are you okay?!” He asks, scanning you over.

“Yeah, I’m fine, I think it came from downstairs.” You shake your head, looking behind you to where Hopper was leaving his office, shotgun in hand.

“What the hell was that?” He asks, and the answer comes barrelling up the stairs.

Dustin pants, eyes wide with horror as he stumbles up the last step. You manage to catch him before he falls, and he clings to your arms, making Steve’s stomach twist.

“It- there’s-”

“Dustin, breathe.” Steve begs, watching the tears start to spill from the young boy’s eyes.

“It’s in the house.” Dustin gasps, and you look back at Steve with a fearful gaze. “Lucas and Max-”

Steve doesn’t wait to hear the rest. He practically flies down the staircase, vaguely hearing Hopper tell Dustin to hide with El, your footsteps shadowing Steve’s already.

It was eerily silent in the foyer, a disturbing notion for a house usually beaming with noise. Steve watches you grab a metal poker from the cold fireplace to his right just as Hopper taps his shoulder, a finger to his lips.

He signals for you both to check the kitchen while he checks the parlour, moving quietly, his gun raised.

Steve ensures you’re safely behind him as he inches closer to the kitchen door, the unfortunate memory of what he had found months ago when the apocalypse first started infiltrating his mind. Talk about deja-vu.

He swings the door open, and the first thing he sees is Max. She’s crying, her back pressed against the kitchen island, clutching her gut as blood spilled out onto the floor.

Your breath hitches behind him, your arm brushing against his as you rush past and kneel beside her, frantically shrugging off your jacket to press against her wound.

Steve wanted to help, but his eyes were fixated on the broken window behind you both, the wooden boards mere splinters on the ground. He grips his bat, moving further into the kitchen, turning the corner to the back door. He stills completely, heart wrenching.

Lucas is on the floor, arms splayed either side of him as a demogorgon finishes off his prey with a final strike to his chest, blood splattering the walls.

Steve roars with rage, striking the monster as hard as he possibly can. It rolls away from Lucas’ body, snarling at Steve as it rises back onto its feet. Its claws were dripping with blood, raising one of its arms to attack him instead.

The bat in his hand drives directly into the creature’s mouth, slamming it back into the ground. Steve plants his foot on its chest as he drives the bat into his head over and over again, the thing screeching with each hit until it starts to become nothing but mush beneath his relentless attack.

When it finally stops struggling, Steve drops his bat with a cry and sprints over to Lucas, knees soaking into the blood pooling around him.

“L-lucas? Hey, it’s me, can you-”

It was too late. Steve was staring down at a child’s dead body, eyes open and glassy.

“No.” Steve whispers, backing away. “No, no, no, no!”

He turns around, hands on his head, barely breathing in any oxygen as he starts to gasp for air. His shaking legs drift back to the kitchen counters, tears streaming down his face. This couldn’t be happening, this wasn’t-

You were gone.

Max’s eyes were shut, head resting against the wood, the metal poker abandoned at her feet. Her lips were already pale, and he’s practically scratching at his own throat to release the broken cry trapped in it.

A sharp breeze hits his face, and he stumbles over to the kitchen door. It was propped open by a fallen side table, giving him full view of the hallway. When had that fallen?

You’re stood there, facing the front doors, your back to him completely.

“Y/n?” He manages to breathe out, goosebumps trailing his skin as the lights start to flicker.

“No.” You say, voice rough, your head twitching. He stops moving. “She left a long time ago.”

You turn around to show him the truth. Your usual expression was replaced with a bone-chilling smile. Your hands flexed long grey fingers.

Shapeshifter.

“No…” He shakes his head, backing away. He slips on the floor, glancing down momentarily to find a pool of blood below his sneakers.

Hopper’s throat was slit, gun twisted and mangled. His body hadn’t even been there a moment ago. Or had it? Steve didn’t know anymore, becoming consumed in the death around him.

“I haven’t been Y/n for a long time.” You say, face dropping, completely void of emotion. “And you never even noticed.”

Steve starts to cry, retreating, watching you step closer.

“You did this, Steve.”

He shakes his head, praying for his mouth to scream something, anything. 

“YOU DID THIS!”

Something grabs him from behind, and he finally yells out, squeezing his eyes shut and fighting through the fits of tears to escape. 

“Steve!”

“Steve!”

He gasps when he feels himself fall back, eyes flashing open and looking at the dull walls of his bedroom. He frowns. Wait-

Arms are wrapped around him, a muffled voice calling out to him. He immediately twists out of their hold, scrambling away. His back hits his dresser and accidentally knocks his bat over. He pants in the dim light, shaking his head. No, he left his bat by the demogorgon. He wasn’t meant to be here. He wasn’t here. How was he here?

“Steve.”

He finally looks at the other person, shoulders dropping.

“Nancy?”

Her face was twisted with fear, sat on the ground like she had fallen over. Or… caught someone.

“You’re okay, you- you were in some… some trance, or something.” She hurriedly explains, and it’s the first time in a long time Steve has seen her struggle to find words. “I- I tried waking you up, and then you fell-”

Steve blinks at her, confused. He was just downstairs, and everyone-

“Are Lucas and Max okay?” He asks, and Nancy frowns then, shaking her head.

“Yeah- yeah, they’re fine. Eating breakfast- Steve, what the hell is going on?”

Steve rests his head back against the foot of his bed, feeling far too numb despite it all, head swarming with questions.

“I… I have no idea.”

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