Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

MAY 31ST, 1986 5:05pm

As Steve looks upon the party and company all crammed into his living room, he cannot help but feel immense gratitude that they are able to do so. Even as the noise reaches its peak volume, all thanks to Dustin and Mike yelling over each other with Will mediating. Something that Steve is not afraid to admit is becoming overstimulating. When he starts to consider yelling at them, his brain reminds him that just two months ago, they were actively battling Vecna, not sure if they would be alive to see tomorrow, and he quickly finds himself abandoning that short-lived anger.  

In the wake of the intense battle, Hopper’s post-Russian resurrection, the Byers’ move back to Hawkins, and the group’s gradual recovery, the party decided to have bi-weekly movie nights at either the Byers or the Harrington residence. After the first month of the kids and Eddie arguing over what movie to watch, Steve had decided he had enough, and they started to rotate whose choice of movie they would watch. This week happened to be Dustin’s choice and Steve expected either a sci-fi or horror film, with horror being the most likely option as Dustin is aware of how little Steve likes them and loves to mess with the babysitter. 

Finally ready to join the party, Steve passes out popcorn and sits down in the only remaining seat, which happened to be on the couch between a smirking Robin and a blissfully unaware Eddie Munson. Ever since he had come out to his best friend, she had been determined to get him a boyfriend. He honestly cannot tell if her motivation comes from genuine love and support or a desire for payback after the Vickie incident. 

Eddie barely seems to notice him sitting down, too busy engaging in a vibrant conversation with Nancy and Jonathan, something he tries to ignore to spare his ego as he settles into Robin’s side. While he is glad that the older boy no longer looks at him as if just his presence is an insult, it does hurt his feelings when he does not seem to care that he arrives. Something that Robin pointed out to be very similar to the heartbreak he felt when Nancy, before their relationship, would hardly look his way. This train of thought is interrupted by Joyce’s voice saying, “Okay Dustin, what movie did you pick for tonight?” 

The kid in question proudly presents a nondescript, slightly scuffed, black tape. “We are going to be playing roulette tonight” he announces cheerfully, finally concluding his argument, as the excitement overwhelms his need to verbally abuse Michael Wheeler. 

“What do you mean by that?” asks Hopper as the freshly turned fifteen-year-old pushes the tape into the VCR.

“Well, I found this tape at the bottom of my mom’s movie collection but neither of us can remember what is on it, so we are gonna find out” he replies excitedly while fiddling with the remote until the screen begins to light up. 

As he sets up the TV, Max seems to be unable to stop herself asking “What if it’s your mom’s sex tape or something, are you sure you wanna take that risk?” and even though she phrases it like a question, her facial expressions make it exceedingly clear that it is meant more so as a dare.

At this, Dustin’s face vividly morphs into one of shock and horror. “You take that back!” he yells, “You’re just trying to ruin my fun!” crossing his arms across his chest and glaring at the redhead. 

It is then that Steve decides to end the argument before it escalates into a migraine-inducing episode, as it often does. “Firstly, language Max” Steve interrupts, raising a brow “and secondly, are you sure you want to waste your movie choice on this Dusty? If it ends up being inappropriate, you know that I am going to turn it off and give your choice to whoever is next in line, right?” He knows the kid is too stubborn to actually change his mind on this, but he would rather remind him of the possible consequences so if he gets an attitude from him later, he can reply with an extremely satisfying ‘I told you so.’  

Dustin turns his attention to the older teen, staring into his eyes and in a deadly serious tone he states, “I am willing to risk it and to be completely frank, I cannot contain my curiosity any longer Steve.” In Steve’s opinion, this does seem to be the truth as if he were any more excited the kid would practically be vibrating. As soon as the sentence leaves his mouth, the screen cracks to life, filling with the noise of static. Any further conversation is halted by motion on the TV screen as the ‘movie’ starts. 

The sound of a bat striking a baseball with a sharp crack is heard, as an image centering on a baseball field and the bleachers full of cheering people emerges from the black of the screen. Across the bottom, the words ‘North Denver 1979’ appear. 

At this, Steve felt stiff, even before realizing exactly why. Distantly, he can hear El ask where North Denver is, and Hopper patiently answering her original question, and the reasonable subsequent questions. Their conversation, however, only registers as background noise to Steve, as all his critical thought is halted by the nauseating feeling of his heart dropping into his stomach. ‘ I mean surely there is no way that this is about him, I mean how would that even be possible, right? Plenty of films take place in Denver!’ As internal panic is filling every thought in Steve’s head, he neglects to notice Eddie and Robin with their concerned eyes trained on him. Any hope Steve had that this had nothing to do with him dried up the second his own twelve-year-old face was centered on the screen.

The kids huddled around the screen remain, thankfully, blissfully unaware of the conflict currently occurring inside their babysitter’s head as do the older adults. However, Chief Hopper’s experience is different as upon seeing that this takes place in North Denver in 1979 cannot help but be reminded of his late nephew who had been kidnapped and brutally murdered around the same time there.

For a brief moment, it's as if he can see his nephew's face, the wild and curly blonde hair and piercing blue eyes. He feels himself clench his jaw as he prepares himself for the worst, that being that someone decided to make a crime documentary about the serial murderer responsible for his nephew Vance’s death, colloquially referred to as The Grabber.

The shot focuses on a young boy's face as he stares down the field; he digs into the dirt and takes a deep breath before throwing the ball. His pitch is missed by the batter, and the ump calls out “Strike one!” as cheers are heard from the onlookers.

The voice in Steve’s head could not help but repeat that ‘ it’s not me. ’ that ‘ it couldn’t be. ’ that ‘ it doesn’t make sense, logically. ’ However, the longer the footage rolls on, the clearer his own face becomes the deeper the feeling of dread within him becomes.

Clearly, logic would not help him out as nothing about this situation is logical in the slightest. When Steve realized that he could locate his beauty marks and moles, he knew deep down that this young boy on screen could only ever be him. He quickly understood that something was deeply, irreversibly wrong here and that nothing could stop what was coming. 

At the sight of Bruce’s face, Steve feels his eyes tearing up uncontrollably. He had not seen his face since he was twelve years old, and it touched a wound that he had been ignoring the rawness of for years. Through the slowly increasing fuzziness of his surroundings, he can feel someone squeezing his hand gently, but he does not seem to notice who is doing it or why they would be doing so.

A young girl with long, chocolate brown hair is shown as she attentively watches the game. “Come on Finney, come on” she mutters under her breath anxiously. 

Digging his foot into the dirt, the young boy, Finney, pitches again, “Strike two” the ump yells.

“Yes Finney, Nice Finney!” the girl yells, cheering him on from the side lines.

Silent tears began to slowly drip down Steve’s cheeks. His mounting grief that had been left ignored had begun pouring out, and it was not going to stop. At the same time, Jonathan is contemplating the screen as he has this gut feeling that he recognizes this young boy from somewhere. The slight wave to his brown hair and his sandy blonde highlights feel too familiar. Those moles, it was superficial and dumb, but he could not ignore the thought, ‘ Hasn’t he seen those moles before? ’.

His head tilts slightly as he racks his brain for an answer. Reaching over to the remote and pausing the TV he asks, “Am I crazy or does this kid look familiar to anyone else?”

Nancy studies the boy’s face where it is paused on the screen before responding “You know what, now that you say it, he does look really familiar, but I have no idea where from.” There was something in the way his features tighten when he concentrates that feels like a trigger pulling on whips of a memory in her mind, and yet she is unable to see the full picture.

When after a few minutes Nancy cannot come up with why she finds him so recognizable, a slight frown decorates her features as a slight crease in her brows becomes known. She does not like not knowing things, and not being able to figure out exactly who this kid is, makes dread settle heavy in her stomach.

While the older teens and adults murmur as they try to figure out why this random actor seems so familiar to them, Robin finds herself focusing on much more important things, in her opinion. Specifically, the tears falling gently down a stunned Steve Harrington's face.

The same Steve Harrington that Robin has only ever seen cry in world-shattering situations, like when the two were kidnapped by Russian soldiers in Starcourt or the many subsequent nights in which he would arise from vivid nightmares screaming.

Whether it is healthy or not, the reality is that her soulmate does not cry, and especially not in front of the kids.  

Ever since they began to orbit around him, Steve has made consistent efforts to always appear strong in front of the kids. She is confident that deep down, Steve really thinks that his only role in their lives, the only value of his presence, is as their unshakable protector.  

So to Robin, the mere sight of tears rolling down Steve’s cheeks is startling enough, even without context. At first, when he had begun to tear up, she had reached over and begun squeezing his hand in a subtle attempt at grounding him; but when that did not work, she found her hands beginning to shake as her anxiety only increased.

In response, Steve does not appear to do anything, he does not seem to blink or even breathe. He seems to make himself small, knees to his chest and arms loosely holding himself around his middle, as if preparing to hide from something no one else could see. His skin’s usual sunkissed appearance has changed for a sickly pallor. 

This escalates to Robin’s current emotional state, summarized as: now freaking the fuck out. The feeling of oppressive panic begins rising up her throat in the form of burning bile. Robin thinks that she has decent coping skills developed to deal with the near-constant anxiety that has invaded her life since middle school; but nothing could have prepared her for the horrific helpless feeling that comes from desperately wanting to help her person but being wholly unable to. She cannot believe this is happening to her. Her. Robin. The girl that weirds people out with her near constant, quick chatter, now finds herself unable to speak.

Robin makes a quick glance around the room to see if anyone else has noticed the sudden and dramatic change in Steve's demeanor. Just as she starts somewhat bitterly concluding that she is the only one to have noticed, she makes eye contact with a wide-eyed Eddie Munson. 

The metalhead is also frozen in his own brand of freakout, one that is characterized with more confusion than Robin’s own as he stares at Steve like a twelve-year-old who was handed a college-level math problem to solve. 

For Eddie, this entire situation feels completely unreal. Ever since the Vecna incident, he has been trying to mature past his previous worldview, a change that can be largely attributed to the reformed jock in front of him. Still, there are moments in which Eddie finds himself actively needing to fight against his first Instincts. This moment is a perfect example of this type of situation, as never has he seen Steve Harrington look anything other than completely in control.

This is one of those moments, the ones that his younger brain would have excused as a flaw or weakness in Steve’s character. A younger version of Eddie, would have taken this opportunity to ridicule the teen for being this affected by a movie that's barely minutes in. Young Eddie would have already cracked a joke by now, something cruel that is meant to sting. Whatever this is, it feels way too personal and raw to joke about.

Now, Eddie knows that Steve Harrington does not cry. He does not break. Not for flesh-eating bats. Not for an Upside Down hellscape. Not for Vecna. 

His eyes appear glassy, full of tears, and faraway. Almost similar to the 100 yard stare that Eddie has seen on his uncle, stemming from his time in the army during the Vietnam war. Such a strong reaction from him now, with no identifiable triggers as to why makes Eddie feel incredibly uncomfortable and anxious beyond belief. Anxious in a way he does not fully understand. And yet, he cannot seem to stop his urge to reach out, to help.

Eddie hates the quiet of it all, the stillness from someone who usually is anything but. Steve is usually always fidgeting, always moving, always doing something for someone, usually the kids. So to see him so silent, like the lights are off and no one is home is deeply unsetting. He has got to snap him out of it. He needs proof of life. 

Eddie’s hand hovers awkwardly in the air above Steve’s. This is not what he does, not usually at least. Still, he gently reaches over to Steve’s hand, giving him time to pull back. When Steve does not move to pull away, he tightens his grip on Steve’s hand, but the younger teen doesn’t so much as blink at the contact. After having her observations validated by another, Robin then decides to push past the lump in her throat and call out  “Steve?” she calls quietly, voice still shaking.

Robin felt a lurch in her stomach the moment Steve reacted. Her heart stuttered and intense nausea racked her senses. While she knew that reaching out to him and grounding him would likely help, she found herself unable to move. She was frozen in the fear of her realization. As this is the moment when deep down, she knows that whatever this is, it is on par with Starcourt, if not worse.

Steve’s reaction to hearing his own name is even more puzzling. Upon hearing it, he suddenly snaps out of whatever trance he was in and immediately shoots up from his position on the couch lunging straight for the VCR and attempting to remove the tape. Understandably, the suddenness of this action startles everyone. No one other than Robin and Eddie had noticed Steve’s breakdown before he lunged. No one else had seen it coming. Now, everyone cannot help but notice the unwiped tears from his face.

Jonathan, who had been moving to the remote to restart the movie, freezes in place. He finds himself utterly bewildered as to how he missed the escalation in Steve and he cannot help but feel ashamed at not noticing sooner. How did he miss the tear tracks down his cheeks, shining clear and bright when they catch the light of the TV screen. How did he miss the sharp stiffness of his frame, when Steve usually emulates the relaxed, confident, ‘cool guy’ look. He can feel the shame bubbling up in his stomach and settling like a rock. Jonathan has always prided himself on being able to notice the little things. 

Whether that skill comes from needing to read his alcoholic father’s moods or trying to understand Will with his subtle emotions does not matter. It has been a skill of his for as long as he can remember. 'So how the hell could he miss such important details and still call himself an observant photographer?' He desperately wishes there was something he could do to help, something he could say to make it all better, but that is not realistic. 'What do you say to someone who is actively coming apart at the seams?'

Nancy, always caring for Steve deeply, begins to move towards him to try to help, to try to understand what the hell is happening. She stops however, hesitating because she’s afraid any wrong move will only send him further down the spiral. 

Ultimately Nancy decides that doing nothing and staying seated where she is will do more damage than making a misstep while trying to help. So, she takes a deep breath and begins to cautiously inch closer, as if she were approaching a wounded animal. A detail that does not go unnoticed by Jonathan as he watches her gingerly leave her seat at his side, who cannot help but agree with that comparison when looking at the tense and unpredictable energy that characterizes Steve at this moment. 

At first, Steve merely pushes the eject button, but nothing happens. No tape is ejected. He can hear the whirring of the machine but the tape stays firmly in place. He tries this a few more times, and his desperation and panic leak out more and more as each try fails. 

When after many attempts the VCR refuses to eject the tape, the stupid thing that sent him spiraling in the first place, Steve only grows more frantic. In a blind panic, he ignores the cacophony of voices calling to him and moves to rip the tape out by hand. He needs it out. Everything needs to stop. He cannot let anyone see what he knows will be on this tape. In his core, he recognizes that he couldn’t survive the embarrassment of anyone he cares about seeing him like that. Seeing him that helpless. Especially not the kids.

Before he gets the chance, he feels the small hands of Nancy Wheeler firmly and gently pulling his hands away from the player. She then guides him into a kneeling position before placing their joined hands in her lap. Now, she kneels beside him on the ground before the TV screen, knees barely brushing his as she cradles his hands. Thus, the first coherent thought in Steve's mind since the appearance of his twelve-year-old face on the TV screen that does not revolve around fear is the feeling of the plaid pajama pants Nancy wore today.     

It is only once Steve’s consciousness floats back and reconnects to his body that he realizes the party is all sitting around him anxiously and with bated breath. 

Only then that he notices the confused tears brimming in Dustin’s eyes. 

Only then does he see the subtle fear and worry building up in Max, only betrayed by her body language. 

Only then does he note the way the Chief is clenching his jaw, how his shoulders tense as if he’s bracing himself to speak up. 

He sees how Joyce is gently frowning and her restless hands touching the lower half of her face as she bites her nails and rubs her chin, likely desperate for a cigarette to help calm her nerves. 

He sees El’s head gently tilting in confusion as she starts looking around for someone to provide her with answers as to what is going on. 

He sees how Eddie’s eyes widen and his body tenses, the quiet fear coloring Jonathan’s features, and the nervous way Lucas follows Steve with his eyes as he tightens his grip on Max’s hand and slightly angles himself in front of her.

He sees Mike’s conflicted gaze staring at him with a mix of confusion and fear, but his is restrained. Distant as if he needs to keep it all locked down tight. 

However, what Steve can sense more than anything else is the warm body hugging his back, her smaller but infinitely strong arms squeezing him tight and repeating the phrase “It is me, Robin, you’re safe Stevie, you’re with us, take a deep breath in....... and out” in a soothing, whispering voice as her warm breath brushes up against the back of his neck. 

He can smell the cherry chapstick Robin loves and suddenly feels as though life is in technicolor again, instead of the nebulous black and white it had been in just moments before. As the seconds tick on, Steve can feel himself gradually relaxing into his best friend’s chest and his breathing cautiously stutters to a slower pace. 

Even though he is much calmer than he had been minutes ago, he takes another moment to sit in the stillness. He takes a couple deep breaths, feeling the cool, humid air associated with an Indiana May filling his lungs before being released back out. This is not the dry and crisp air of a May in Colorado; nor is it the stale, heavy, and clammy air of a molding basement. It is only after a few minutes of repeating this action, of grounding himself, that he finally looks up, first making eye contact with the intensely caring eyes of one Nancy Wheeler.

Steve glances around at the party and after drinking up the concern and confusion, all he feels is this intense feeling of embarrassment. He racks his brain for anything he can do to shift their attention, to distract them, to get all the eyes with their penetrating stares off of him.

So Steve does what he always does and puts on his mask, becoming the confident and charming young man he has adapted to be. He lets a captivating smile take over his features and forces himself to relax into the persona “Well… that was dramatic” he states in an attempt to joke away the problem. When this does not have the desired effect, his appearance wavers slightly before correcting itself as he chuckles nervously. 

No one is laughing. 

The Mask is on, but no one believes it, not tonight, and more than likely, never again. 

Steve can feel Robin’s arms tighten around his middle where they had been resting since he began to calm down. This action does not surprise him in the slightest as ever since the incident with the Russians, Robin had been extremely protective of him.

What did surprise Steve however, was hearing her voice as while she is protective, she generally avoids confrontation. “Before everyone snaps at him, I think everyone should take a couple deep breaths, since yelling at him won’t help or make him likely to open up, alright?” she states in a clear and strong voice, and from the glance of her face Steve managed to capture her pointing a ‘no-nonsense’ glare at all the faces around the room.

For the next few glorious moments, all Steve can hear around him is the soothing, deep breaths of all those he loves.The calm before the storm of unavoidable conversation waiting beyond this brief respite. All Steve can hope is that he manages to get through this without going overboard. Without breaking down again.

Chapter Text

MAY 31ST, 1986 5:40pm

For the next few glorious moments, all Steve can hear around him is the soothing, deep breaths of all those he loves.The calm before the storm of unavoidable conversation waiting beyond this brief respite. All Steve can hope is that he manages to get through this without going overboard. Without breaking down again.

When Steve’s hands finally slow their shaking and his heart rate returns to a more normal pace, he looks over at Robin. When he meets her eyes, he sees that she had already been waiting with an expectant gaze. Warmth floods Steve as he realizes she had been waiting until he felt ready to try to speak before giving the rest of the group the okay. 

As the warmth spreads from the inside out, he can feel his stiffness seep out. He does not feel as uncomfortable in his own skin as he did just moments ago. It’s like the icy fear that normally paralyzed him has melted just slightly, making it more bearable to carry. Steve nodded gently to her, to let her know it’s okay. 

It is only as the sensation returns to his hands that he realizes he is still gripping Nancy’s hands tightly. He glances down at where they are joined in her lap and gives her one last quick squeeze before releasing her from his white-knuckled grip. He appreciates the compassion and care everyone is giving him. It is more than he ever expected from them. 

It is the unyielding attention that he could do without. The pitiful stares and hesitation as they try to find something to say. He feels like a car crash that people cannot look away from. Everything feels too fresh and exposed to feel safe. The idea of allowing them to take in his instability and shaky imperfections, to truly perceive him is unbearable. He already knows something inside him is wrong and broken, but that does not mean he is ready for everyone else to see it too. At least for now, he cannot take appearing as vulnerable as he feels in front of them. 

Steve looks up at her and hopes that his expression conveys how grateful he is for her care. Nancy responds with a soft smile that most would assume to be mere politeness. To Steve, her eyes convey much more, her fierce, calming, and unshakable care. Feelings distilled so clearly, anyone willing to really look could easily read them. 

It is a show of love and understanding but not in the traditional romantic context. No, they decided quickly after Vecna and the threat of certain death was no more that they did not have any romantic feelings for each other. In some ways, that makes her affection more meaningful.

She has seen all of him, more than most people in Hawkins. Maybe she doesn’t understand all of it but she has borne witness and still chooses to love him. Which is more than any of his previous lovers ever did. In Steve’s mind, that must mean something. He likes to think it means that of all of them, her love is the only one that ever counted. The only one that was ever real.  

He finally broke eye contact with her, took a centering breath, and mustered up enough courage to face the rest of the party. First, he notices El’s confused looks at the others, hoping for guidance from anyone. He can tell by the slight furrow in her brow and the downturn of the corners of her mouth that she is starting to get frustrated. Likely because she is feeling insecure about her understanding of people. 

El has always been able to comprehend instinctual things like the Upside Down, but she still struggles to understand people with all of their unspoken emotions and confusing phrases. Most of all, she is scared and concerned for everyone else. Usually, Steve explains things if the others get caught up and distracted. He wishes he could now. She deserves someone strong enough to do that for her.  

In Will, he first sees his open, concerned gaze attempting to take in everything around him. The confusion shown on his face is coupled with a contemplative spark as he taps his fingers. Rather than being confused about what is happening with Steve, he seems more confused about what caused it. Like he wants to find out why, so he can help fix it. Will is good like that.

Distress and confusion painted everyone’s faces, just in different ways. Out of all of them, Dustin with his tear-filled eyes and confused gaze held his attention. “Please, Steve. Tell us what’s going on. For real this time.” Dustin asked through the lump in his throat. “We just want to help you, and you are really scaring the shit out of me by keeping me in the dark.”

Dustin took this opportunity to get closer to Steve while the older teen remained transfixed on the tears running down Dustin’s face. He was lost in the image of tears on the face of the kid who is essentially his little brother. Guilt begins to twist and turn, forming a knot in his stomach. He was the one who put them there.  

Taking a couple steps closer, Dustin said with a slightly exasperated tone, “Okay, do I need to say it again?” Dustin was now close enough to reach out to Steve and touch him, but he restrained himself from doing so as the last thing he wanted to do was startle him. “You remember what I told you? In the Russian Elevator? You die. I die.” Dustin said, firm and clear. 

He stared deep into Steve’s eyes, steady and sure. “And I meant that. But that also means that I am with you to the end. It does not matter how big or how scary the monster in front or behind you is. I will always stand with you to stare it down and I will never judge you for something you chose to do to survive.”

Steve fought the tears accumulating in his eyes, trying to keep them from pouring down his cheeks. His eyebrows creased, jaw clenched, and eyes blinking rapidly, but through it all, his eyes were stuck on Dustin. Dustin with his endlessly caring heart that he proudly wears on his sleeve.  

It is a trait that reminds him a little too much of his little sister, his Gwen. Someone who could be a real pain in the ass, but was endlessly compassionate, just like the fifteen-year-old sitting in front of him. He wishes she were here; she would know exactly what to say to pull him back from the edge.  

It is then that Dustin decides he has waited long enough and all but leaps into the older teen’s arms, the latter instinctually wrapping him up in a tight hug while cradling his head with one hand. Steve buried his face in the younger’s shoulder, in the safe, comforting space between his jaw and shoulder joint. He can feel the wild curls of the younger, gently tickling his face and only then does he allow a few tears to fall while obstructed from view.  

Dustin wraps his arms around Steve’s neck tight, and he speaks next to his ear “So please, let us in. Let me do something, anything, to help! You are the closest thing I have to a brother and brothers stick together!” Even through his tears Dustin’s words come out crisp and true.  

He means every syllable of every word. A level of conviction that is a lot for Steve to take in. Steve tries to ground himself in the moment. He focuses on the feeling of Dustin's warm breath on his neck, the smell of salt and Dustin’s shampoo, and the slight breaking of his voice as he speaks, but he can feel himself slipping. Losing his grip on the current moment and falling into a memory of the last time he felt safe. A time before his mom died, before he and Gwen were separated. When everything felt attainable. Back when nothing was hiding in the shadows of his mind, waiting until he rested to attack. 

For someone like Steve, this is a bit overwhelming. He has had little experience with an outpouring of love, so honest and pure. After all he has been through, all this emotion willingly given to him is difficult to process, let alone respond to. He hates himself for even feeling that way. How could he take for granted the one thing he has been craving all his life, something few people ever get to really have?  

In his life, there have not been many people that have wanted to see him, the real him. He has spent so much time running from pain and making himself small for the comfort of others that he doesn’t know how to express his feelings anymore without feeling like he is merely putting on another show. He is so tired of performing. Tired of staying quiet and polite when all he wanted to do was scream. Tired of pretending to be someone he isn’t just for the approval of others, or the illusion of safety. 

Gwen was the only one to make him feel this deeply loved. Loved him like this, fiercely and unconditionally with all the good, the bad, and the ugly included. This makes the love offered by Dustin feel bittersweet, as Gwen cannot be here to share it. He has not seen her since this past New Year’s, and each time he has had to leave her with her adoptive parents, it gets harder. It makes him feel more wrong, more guilty. Even though she would probably give him a good punch in the shoulder and call him a dipstick for it. She was good like that.

While Dustin’s love is different, it now carries the same unconditional weight as Gwen’s. Even though he is grateful for Dustin with all his intense love and care, he struggles with how to take it and how to believe it is true. 

In his head, his thoughts are all twisted together like a big clump of tangled up jewelry with no clear place to start unraveling. Or like hundreds of trains all trying to go to the same place, where their tracks overlap and cross and some of the trains have already derailed, making everything a complete mess.  

Guilt is busy smothering out gratitude, keeping its words of thanks from coming out of his mouth. Grief blocks the enjoyment from entering his heart. So, as he tries to find his voice, tries to string together an intelligent sentence, he hugs Dustin as tight as he can. He has to hope that Dustin understands, hope that it is enough. 

After a few seconds, he feels Dustin’s grip on him tighten to match the strength of his own. As if he is telling him ‘ I understand. It’s okay. I got you. ’ without uttering a single word. The shaking that had been present in Dustin’s movements since the start of his speech had started to slow, along with his breathing.  

As Dustin’s body calmed, he could feel his own melt into the stillness. For a moment, the watchful concerned stares around them seemed to fade into the background. It was as if no one else in the room existed. As if just for a moment, it was only them. Maybe this was what it felt like to be seen. 

As the intensity withdrew, offering a break for Steve’s exhausted mind, he found himself able to think more clearly. If there was one thing he desperately wanted Dustin to take from this, it was that he was not alone in those feelings. So, he picked up every bit of strength he had. “Words are really hard for me right now. But I need you to know I feel the same way about you,” he says quietly but firmly. The love he has for the kid infused into every word.  

Steve feels Dustin smile into the crook of his neck, releasing a breath he did not know he had been holding “I know… but thank you for saying it,” he says softly. Steve can smell the minty toothpaste on his breath and feel his steady and calm heartbeat. Finally, he feels stable enough to loosen his tight grip on Dustin, strong enough to stand without needing Dustin to carry his weight. At last, he feels able to pull away from their embrace without fear of what will happen after. 

He is still unsteady, but this is also the clearest his mind has been in what felt like hours. Steve knows he has to use this clarity while it lasts, because he has this nagging feeling that this night is not done with him yet.  

Partly because he knows that the others will have questions for him, some he might not be able to answer. The rest is just a gut feeling, but it pulls at him with undeniable strength. As if he had to guess, they have not seen the end of this tape and deep down, he knows that the only way out is through.

As Dustin moves back to his place on the floor in front of the couch, Steve tries to center himself. He feels someone gently tapping three times in a row on the back of his hand. Robin. It’s the code they created during Starcourt.  

When they couldn’t speak, the three taps would remind the other that ‘I am here. You are not alone. I've got your back.’ He feels a slight smile grace his face, grateful for her and her unending understanding of him. She gives him the energy to continue. Steve thanks her by returning the three-tap gesture and briefly meeting her eyes, hoping it communicates his gratitude.  

He looks out at the group, not at them but behind them, focusing on the clock hanging on the wall. If he looked at them now, if he saw their faces and all the emotion they hold, he would likely chicken out of saying what he needs to.  

He knows that no matter the outcome of this conversation, nothing can be the same after. The people he loves will never be able to look at him the same, and that is terrifying to contemplate. If he confesses that the boy on the tape is him, then everything else must come with it.  

Most importantly, they will find out that he has been lying to them about who he is. That he was not born a Harrington. That the name he goes by was not his at birth. That he is not even from Indiana. 

What is truly horrifying to him is not the shame, but the chance that they might not forgive him or even worse, that they might not understand why he did it all.  

As he prepares himself to speak his truth, something even more startling stirs beneath the fear. It’s hope. Steve does not let himself entertain the thought long for fear that something is waiting around the corner ready to destroy everything he has built. Stuck, as always, in the paralyzing fear of what comes next. As in the past, hope has only served to make the pain more agonizing. Hope has only ever made him vulnerable. Yet, he cannot stop himself from having it.  

Steve can feel his heartbeat quicken at this thought and his breathing increases in kind, but before the fuzziness takes over his vision and he spirals into another panic, he thinks of Robin, Dustin, and Nancy. 

Robin who no matter what will defend him and has always understood him, and who would never blame him for hiding his truth to survive. Hell she would probably thank him for doing it. If it got him here, with her.  

Nancy, who has seen all his phases in Hawkins and would not judge him if there were more of them out there she did not get to see.  

Dustin, who loves Steve deeply enough to tell him to his face and remind him that he will never judge him for actions he needed to take to survive. 

So, he fights past the embarrassment, the fear, and the shame heavy in his head with the help of his people’s actions and words. He takes a deep breath, releases the lip he had been chewing on, and takes a leap of faith. “Okay, just to get it out of the way and into the open before I back out… the kid on the tape? That is me,” he says and tries to appear more confident than he feels, even though he knows his voice is wavering. 

At first, all he could hear was a silence thick enough to suffocate. It was like he could feel the electricity in the air before anyone reacted, like a warning. Nobody seemed to breathe, nobody moved. The first thing he registers is Robin grabbing his hand in hers and squeezing it tight. As if she learned from the last time and wanted to prevent his spiral before it even occurred. Her warmth and steadiness seem to pass to him through their contact. Strength that keeps him from running before things get tough.

Then, one voice cuts through the tension in the air. “Steve? It’s me, Hopper. I am not mad at you kid, and I believe you.” The chief takes a break and pulls in a steadying breath. “Lord knows we’ve seen crazier shit than this, but what exactly do you mean? I thought you had spent your whole life here” he continues, calmly but still firm. However, if Steve were brave enough to make eye contact, he would see the fear in the older man’s eyes. Not fear of Steve, but fear for him.  

After four years of Upside Down bullshit, Hopper feels like he has the experience to know when something does not seem right. This entire situation, with a tape of Steve’s unknown childhood suddenly appearing in Dustin’s house, of all places, causes Hopper to see red flags and warning signs everywhere.  

What he really wants to know is whether this means Vecna, the thing his kids sacrificed so much to bring down, is still alive. Or if this was a plan set in motion months ago, before the battle with Vecna two months prior, that is only now coming to fruition.

The Chief also cannot ignore the lingering question at the back of his mind, one that he does not dare to voice just yet. Vance and Steve were both in North Denver at the same time. The same time The Grabber was active in North Denver. Did Steve know Vance? Or were they connected in some way?  

In any case, those are all questions that can be answered later. At this moment, all Jim wants to do is try to understand why this tape terrified Steve so deeply. He has personally seen Steve at some of his worst moments, beaten to a pulp, concussed, heavily drunk, and sometimes even high. But none of those compared to how out of control and vulnerable the teen became mere minutes into the footage. The speed at which it all occurred. The depth at which it disturbed him.  

He can feel how tight his muscles are as they react to the thought without permission, but he forces himself to relax as best he can. The last thing he wants is for Steve to misunderstand his body language, making him even more anxious than he already is. Taking a breath and steadying himself, he is as prepared as he can be for whatever Steve’s response may be. 

At Hopper’s question, Steve cannot help but feel comforted by his care. Steve hadn’t had a decent father figure in years, but he liked to imagine that Hopper could be one. He had himself convinced that he was overestimating his presence and impact on the older man’s life, despite having grown closer over the years. Especially after the Chief learned he did not have any adults in his life. Sure, the Harringtons passed through town between trips, but they would only ever stay long enough to maintain the illusion. They never really saw him or were involved in his life. 

So, to now hear Hopper speak to him in a caring and deeply concerned tone. One that did not verge into pity but seeped honest curiosity and a desire to understand him cut right to Steve’s core.  

Steve cleared his throat, trying to fight past the swell of emotions blocking his windpipe to speak. “Well,… I was born in North Denver, and I lived there through my 13th birthday” he started shakily, his voice gradually growing in clarity. 

“I bounced around some before I came into the Harrington's care just after turning 14. Right before I started my freshman year. I think they told all their friends and associates that I had been at boarding school before then” he states, finishing clearer than he expected.  

While he is grateful for that in some ways, as it will make this quicker to get through, he fears that the ease comes at the expense of feeling anything at all. He is still present in the moment, but he feels numbness creeping in. As if his emotions were suddenly switched off. 

He feels Robin rub gentle circles on the back of his hand with her thumb, a grounding gesture. As if she was reminding him that he is here and he can breathe again. He releases a breath he didn’t know he was holding. 

At the same time, across from him sat Hopper, appearing visibly shaken at Steve’s confession. His reaction, the clench of his jaw, the tightening of his grip, is not missed by those around him.  

Max watches him, watches his reaction to what at first seems like an innocuous statement, but if you are paying attention, it holds much more meaning. Seeing Hopper, such a strong and unshakable figure, break and let his true emotions start to show through causes Max’s own fragile defenses to begin to crumble. 'If Hopper can’t even hold it together, what chance does she have?'

Logically, Hopper knew the Harringtons were shitty guardians. Even then, it hits different to hear the kid describe it, especially now knowing that they weren’t even his biological parents. ‘I mean who adopts a kid and then abandons them? ’ He could never do that to El.  

The more Hopper thinks about it, the less the timeline adds up. What about the year gap? What happened between living in North Denver, presumably with his birth parents, and moving in with the Harringtons? Was he in the system and just didn’t want to say? 

His muscles tighten, his shoulders brace themselves, and his hands grab the arms of his chair so tight that his knuckles turn white. He forces a breath. For Steve, For Steve, For Steve, he keeps telling himself.

He can feel the tension and ferocious protective anger melting out of him as he relaxes into his seat. Finally, releasing the vice-like grip he had on the poor chair. 

The Chief glances over the room, seeing the shock and confusion evident on most faces. His eyes stick on Max. Max who is constantly putting up a front of aggression and sarcasm to cover up her real, true feelings. Who now cannot stop the hurt and fear from bleeding into her features. Steve has been her rock since Starcourt and even more so after Vecna. He would take her to her doctor appointments and bring her food. Make sure that someone was always there, keeping her from falling through the cracks. 

Seeing Steve like this, so out of control and panicked, frightened her too. After Billy’s death, he is the closest thing she has to a brother. She doesn’t know what she would do without him but fears her support will not be enough to bring him back. She seems to consider moving to Steve, but does not commit to it, staying seated next to Lucas. Instead, she settles for fidgeting with the edge of her sweatshirt, her leg beginning to bounce, betraying her silent distress.  

Lucas, on the other hand, appears more unnerved by what Steve is saying than anything else. Lucas looks like he is watching something he always feared finally coming true. The two had spent a lot of time together during his freshman year, practicing basketball, going on runs, and weight training.  

Maybe he had seen something in him the others had not. A crack or fissure in his persona that already existed because the main emotion on his face is concern, not confusion. He just keeps his tight grip on Max’s hand and maintains a slight tension in his shoulders, as if preparing for what’s to come. He feels Max squeezing his hand back just as tight, and while it is comforting, he keeps his eyes on Steve. While Lucas thought something like this was on the horizon, he never thought it would happen in this way. 

His gaze lands next on Dustin, who looks stunned, but not as hurt or angry as one might expect from the deeply passionate kid. However, what is present amongst the concern is this glint in his eyes like he is trying to figure out a complex puzzle. A detail that would be easy to miss if you hadn’t seen it before.  

He keeps tapping his fingers to his lips, his eyes stuck on Steve, trying to make sense of how it all connects. Dustin already guessed that the kid on the screen might be Steve, but now that he has confirmation, he needs to figure out what it means. For Steve and for the rest of the party.  

The next to catch his eye is Mike. Normally, the kid is constantly berating and mean to Steve, always ready with another joke at his expense. However, Hopper has always known it is just a front, and that the kid worships him just as much as the others. Mike sits with his arms wrapped tightly around his knees, his chin resting on top. He is looking at Steve with the same astonishment and confusion, but beneath that, he looks like he is fighting a much more complex battle in his head.

He could be wrestling regret and guilt from witnessing Steve go through something so personal and vulnerable after being nothing but awful to him since they met. Whatever war Mike is waging does not seem to be letting up any time soon, and his whole body is tense with the burden of it. He grasps onto his pajama pants like a lifeline, but his eyes never leave Steve.  

Hopper turns his attention back to the eighteen-year-old sitting in front of him, taking in his clammy pale skin, his red-rimmed eyes, and unfocused gaze that refuses to settle on any of the concerned faces in the audience. He looks so young.  

Hopper quickly glances at Joyce, hoping she can help him feel more in control. She gives him a small smile and nod, even though her eyes are wide with fear and concern. Reaching over, she threads her fingers through his. He gives her a gentle squeeze in thanks, feeling more grounded.  

In an effort to avoid overwhelming him, he starts with more basic questions. “Steve, do you know what happens on the tape? Or do you remember it being made?” He asks, his voice low and even.  

Steve hears Hopper’s voice through the oppressive fog in his mind. He tries his best to process the question, but it’s hard. Words aren’t sounding right. Or maybe he just cannot seem to find the right ones. 

He is still tethered in this moment, in this room. Everything feels a bit hazy, like he is trying to hear through water. 

Robin is holding his hand and squeezing it tight. 

He feels numb and distant. Like he is watching everything his body does from above it. 

Nancy reaches out slowly and firmly grabs his right hand in hers, placing it on her chest while breathing slowly and rhythmically.

Steve is here.

Breathe in…. and out. 

“You with me Stevie?” He hears Robin ask quietly, as if trying to preserve whatever privacy he has left. He looks at her, the first direct eye contact he has made since this conversation began. Her eyes are clear and loving, concerned, but not panicked. He feels himself loosening up just looking at her and gives her a slight nod before glancing over at Nancy and doing the same. 

Nancy looks unsure, but not angry or afraid of what he’s going to say. If anything, she just looks concerned about him. They help him feel steadier, like it is safe to continue on. 

He uses the energy given to him to respond “As far as what is on the tape…” his voice falters briefly, but he pushes through. “I do know. I remember everything, in all the ugly and vivid details” Steve hears a neck snap in the background but squeezes the girls’ hands and tries to keep moving forward despite it.

“I’ve just spent years trying to convince myself I didn’t” he says, his voice still shaking at times. 

He tries to appear more confident in himself before continuing. “What I do know for certain is that there is no way this tape was recorded using typical methods, because I would have noticed a camera filming me during this game. It was one of the first times I talked to…” briefly, he finds himself choking on his name but pushes through it even as he stutters “Bruce. He is the batter.”

He pauses and points to the screen behind him, “I am positioned in the middle of the field as the pitcher, and to get footage this clear the person would either have to stand close to me or have a bigger, more advanced camera set up. In both scenarios I would have noticed it.” 

He takes a break to breathe, after pushing out his thoughts as fast as possible. Historically, people haven’t let him talk that long. He loves his family of weirdos, but they tend to have the habit of assuming he has nothing relevant or important to add. The fact that no one had interrupted, this far in, hit him harder than he would expect. “Am I right in thinking that Jon?”  

Mostly due to reflex, he finally makes eye contact with someone other than Robin and Nancy as he glances over to Jonathan who is still seated on the edge of the larger sectional couch. It is over as quickly as it started, as he still does not feel up to intense interaction. However, it did release some of the tension in him as he saw no anger or judgement on Jonathan’s face, just surprise at being asked a question shown by the slight lift of his brows as his eyes widened.

Chapter Text

MAY 31ST, 1986 6:30pm

Given everything that had occurred since they pushed play on that damn tape, Jonathan thought he’d been doing a surprisingly good job of holding himself together even as his seams threatened to split. Steve’s reaction to the tape left him emotionally fatigued. Not just because of how visceral and unsettling it was to witness, or how much of a shock it was, but because on top of all of that he had to witness his mother, Nancy, and the kids break down. It was all too much for him at one time, especially on top of trying to manage his own feelings of guilt and regret.  

The way Hopper reacted to Steve left him especially on edge. He’d felt like his hair was standing on end. Something about the way he worked his jaw or the way he clenched his fists maybe. Something about the way he looked had reminded him a little too much of his father when he had too much to drink or the way he behaved right before the yelling began. Too close for comfort. Even though he knew Hopper, he knew he wouldn’t treat him the way Lonnie did. It didn’t stop the way he felt, the way his body tensed. As if he needed to be ready to move or jump into action in a moment’s notice.  

He felt gutted. Like even though his pieces appeared to hold together from the outside, something wasn’t quite right on the inside.  

To put it simply, everything that occurred over the last hour and a half left him overwhelmed and hyperaware of himself, his surroundings, and the intense emotions boiling just below the surface within his family. A combination that he typically only associated with The Upside Down and dealing with his father. Situations where he feels completely blindsided, out of control, and out of his depth. So, when Hopper had begun questioning Steve there were two things Jonathan had been focused on, because he had to do something productive. He had to stay grounded. 

The first was Steve. Jonathan had been completely fixated on him, trying his best to take in every detail. The two of them never interacted much before the Upside Down, and when they did it was never pleasant. But even then, he knew Steve wasn’t as bad as some of the other popular kids. Steve could and would cut you with his words, but only if you got too close to him or overstepped a perceived boundary. Most of the time, he just didn’t seem to care about any of the school’s general populace and acted as a bystander to Tommy and Carol’s violence. 

After their first encounter with the Upside Down, they got to a more civil place with each other. Steve got to apologize and replace his camera. This time without a Demogorgon barging in. Each time they interacted with the Upside Down since they got closer, especially after this year’s battle. This time was the closest they had ever been to friends. Jonathan had come to appreciate Steve for who he had become in the three years since 1983, since the beginning.  

He had learned so many innocuous things about Steve over the years through exposure alone. Like how he always stirred creamer into his coffee with three clockwise rotations. Jonathan was sure he understood his quirks and he understood that Steve was highly skilled at hiding his tells and misdirection. Yet he didn’t notice that something was terribly wrong with Steve until it was far too obvious and far too late. So now, even if it’s irrational, he continues to feel guilt sitting in his stomach like a stone because he knew what it was like to bury your trauma. Bury it deep below the surface. So, no one can see it. So, you don’t have to either. 

It was the only way to function growing up in his home. Where he had to worry about his mom and take care of Will when she couldn’t. He knew what that did to you. How it came out. So, he should have seen. If he had, maybe he could have done something sooner. Maybe Steve wouldn’t have to expose all his deep and painful wounds in front of everyone.  

When he was in the moment, unsure of how to help, he did what he always does. Focus on the details and try to understand their meaning. He cannot undo what Steve has been through, but he can make sure that he doesn’t go through it alone ever again. Maybe he can simply be someone who understands him.

The only other thing that could pull his attention away from Steve was his little brother’s face, wide-eyed and mouthing an inaudible gasp. After Steve confessed to being the boy on the tape, he saw Will react with confusion and concern. It hadn’t surprised him. His brother was nothing if not endlessly caring. Jonathan knew he would never judge Steve for being so affected by his past. If anything, he would understand where he is coming from. What caught him off guard was how that look shifted into one of realization and then fear.  Since the Demogorgon, the Mind Flayer, and now Vecna, there aren’t many things that scare Will anymore, not really. 

If he had to guess what caused his reaction, only a few things came to mind: The Upside Down and his father. As much as he detested Lonnie, he didn’t think he had anything to do with filming Steve in Denver. What really made him feel disconcerted was the look of realization on Will’s face, like he recognized something no one else could. A road that led in only one direction. The possibility of Upside Down involvement opens doors to a lot of unpleasant outcomes. None of which bodes well for Steve’s wellbeing. 

His train of thought was suddenly interrupted by Steve’s voice and when his eyes focus on him, Jonathan can tell how blurry he is around the edges. His hands are still trembling, and his voice is still wavering. Although he is still displaying false confidence it seems like it’s just the armature of his mask rather than the full sculpture. More of a habit than an intentional choice. Though he must assume this is because Steve had been using all his meager energy supply to speak. Jonathan subsequently loses himself in what Steve is saying, trying to pay attention to his points. 

“I am positioned in the middle of the field as the pitcher, and to get footage this clear the person would either have to stand close to me or have a bigger, more advanced camera set up. In both scenarios I would have noticed it. Am I right in thinking that Jon?” Steve asked, his eyes briefly holding contact with Jonathan before quickly breaking away.  

At Steve’s question, Jonathan can feel his face contort into one of surprise. All he can think is ‘holy shit did he really ask me a question? ’ Jonathan clears his throat, hoping that will break him out of his momentary stupor. He hadn’t been expecting to be dragged into the conversation, let alone asked a question, but the least he could do was answer it. After all, he knew that the only way to find a solution was to talk about it with the others. 

The idea of speaking to the group while still being overstimulated makes his hands slightly shake. So, he focuses on what he knows, cameras, lenses, aberrations. The details. He collects himself and responds to Steve.  

“Essentially, yes. Someone could have had a telephoto lens to film from further away. But those are big and bulky enough that you would notice one. They are also unstable due to size, so most use a tripod to maintain footage clarity. Something else that would have stood out,” he takes a breath, realizing he had been rambling a bit. Embarrassment settles in his chest, but he tries his best to push through.

He gently taps his fingers on his knees, creating a steady rhythm to pace his words as he continued, “Even if they had a telephoto lens, they could not get footage this clear. Those lenses typically lend to distortions, like fuzziness around the perimeter of his face or a hazy appearance. But none of that is present in the footage” he finished stronger than he thought and gestured to the screen behind him, still paused on a close up of Steve’s face.  

He looked up at Steve and noticed how his jaw seemed more relaxed and how the corner of his mouth slightly upturned. Then when their gazes met, he saw a flicker of brightness in Steve’s eyes that was not there before. He could only hope his calm explanation helped. That Steve felt seen.  

From Steve’s perspective, he didn’t get why Jonathan was being so effortlessly kind to him. Sure, he had apologized, and they’d both saved each other's lives since their fight in the alley, but he still felt the shame of what he said to him. So, the fact that Jonathan was willing to hear him and treat him with respect feels like a gift. One that made him breathe a bit easier and release the tension in his back, as it takes some of the weight off his load. 

For Steve, Jonathan’s honest and earnest response made him feel more normal. Like this was just an Upside Down strategy session, instead of a question of how much shit he’s got into. Like a cooling balm soothing his burning anxiety enough to relax his locked jaw. He tried to sink into the feeling and enjoy the momentary calm while he could because he knew that the tape was waiting for him. Eager to devour him piece by piece. Of course, the calm never lasts. His mind is already turning over the possibilities of what this all means.  

While having his thoughts confirmed does make him happy, it does not improve his odds of avoiding watching this stupid tape. Nor the odds of anyone else avoiding it. His gut keeps insisting this is Upside Down-related. If that's the case, he knows it would want to make him as miserable and weak as possible before trying to destroy him. That is how Vecna gets in. By exploiting pain, suffering, and grief.  

If Vecna had been trying to take him, using the whole nightmare trauma simulator from hell might not have worked as well to isolate and destroy him. He had grown into being concerningly functional despite vivid flashbacks, disassociation, and the occasional hallucination that plagued his everyday life. Plus, it did help to have some of his mother’s uncanny talent for seeing through things that are not real and wish him harm. 

In short, he is good at ignoring all the things around him he couldn’t control. Things that wanted to hurt him. So, if Vecna really wanted to torture and kill him, the best method would be to drag his trauma out into the open and humiliate him in front of his family. Then the question remains, was a trap set before the battle two months ago or is Vecna still alive and trying to claw his way back to power? To be honest, Steve has no idea himself.

He swallows, feeling the possibilities slowly sink into his bone marrow as his mouth goes dry. Steve tries to hone in on his surroundings to ground himself. The whirring of VCR mechanics, the buzz of the god damn TV, metallic taste in his mouth, murmuring between a few people, the softness of Robin’s hand with the hard and cool feel of her rings. When he does feel that stomach churning sensation he has associated with anxiety, he does what he usually does. He shoves it down, deep, so he can go on. He must figure this out. He needs to function. 

He still does not trust his voice, so he tries to make it technical. To make it easier to get out without losing what little control he’s regained. “So, if it was not possible to film this in ‘79 with the tech available then and remain unnoticed, how was it filmed?”  

Steve’s question served a dual purpose. To both buy himself some time to collect the fragments of his shell and to get an actual response. 

Everybody probably has a theory, but only one voice pulled the room’s attention. Steve looks up to see Dustin, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his fingers as he starts to speak. “Okay, just to be completely clear, someone filmed creepy and borderline cinematic footage of Steve with impossible technology. Then they just sat on it for six years like a twisted home movie.”  

Dustin stood up and began to pace as he continued, “Only to finally reveal it by breaking into my house and putting it at the bottom of my movie stash for me to find like a shitty time capsule to hell?” By now, Dustin’s words were shoved between every gesture. Steve's face flinched just slightly at Dustin’s words, but not enough that you would notice if you hadn’t been looking. But of course, Robin was looking and gave Dustin a warning glance in response. 

The room was stunned. Will’s face twisted, like he was trying to build up the courage to speak. Feeling unsure and hoping for validation, he first glances towards Mike. But he is sitting alone at the edge of the group and staring off into the distance, still stuck in his own world. His jaw clenched and his eyes cloudy as his emotions were flying high somewhere between guilt and fear that this was just the beginning. He was nowhere near ready to listen, to internalize.  

Then he glances towards Jonathan, who gave him a small nod of encouragement. But the room was overwhelming. Nobody was in the right headspace to process his words. No, he’d wait until everyone was closer to ready. Just a bit longer.  

The silence hung heavy in the air, but no one had been in a rush to fill it. One of those silent watchers was Eddie, whose gaze remained fixated on Steve. If Steve noticed, he would see the concern there, as well as the way he drank in every detail. Like he wanted to catalog it, both for fear of forgetting and a desperation to understand. 

Someone did notice his behavior. Max noticed. She followed his gaze to Steve and saw the intensity behind it. Did she need to protect Steve? Did he just have a crush on him? The ambiguity of his motives made Max nervous, the longer she thought about it. So, she started sneaking looks at Eddie every couple minutes, just to see if there was a change in his behavior. Like if she watched long enough, he would do something creepy that she could grab onto or she'd see something dark shift behind his eyes.  

Maybe it was the paranoia getting to her. Or maybe she was thrown off by this stupid tape. In the end, she appreciates the distraction of it. As without it, she could feel herself start to run out of air at the mere thought of the Upside Down. Although, the hand of Lucas in hers, still squeezing tight, was helpful in grounding her in the moment.  

They could still hear the paused VHS machine, the whirring of the mechanics and the glow of the TV screen felt taunting coupled with their realizations. 

Still perched on the floor next to Steve, Nancy clenched her jaw as she tried to burn a hole in the carpet with her gaze. She was angry that at this point, there was no physical way to take out the threat because they didn’t even know what it was. She would greatly prefer something she could aim her gun at and take out. Since she can’t, she’ll sit here until there is something for her to puzzle out. Something for her to do. 

Joyce and Hopper sat next to each other in two fluffy chairs. Both looked run down, tense, and concerned. Wanting to help but not knowing exactly how to, or how much is too much. They don’t want to make everything worse, so they sit and wait. Holding each other’s hands and hoping they will know when they do need to step in.  

The silence was smothering and pushed out all the air and light. It empowered them to think too much, to spiral. To give in and willingly sink into the unavoidable fear that came from the Upside Down’s touch. As if it hoped for them to be buried alive in their own darkest memories and imaginings.  

By now, Robin’s own anxiety was picking up. Just thinking about why and how this is possible made her palms sweat and her back ache from the tension. She decided she had to intervene. For her own sanity as much as anyone else's. “Okay… but when you lay it all out like that it… it sounds just absurd!” she said, frustration clear in her tone.  

“I mean there has to be a logical explanation, right? I mean, we can all see baby Steve’s face on the TV. We just… we need to figure it out.” she said, tightening her grip on Steve’s hand. 

As if he had a sixth sense for her, she felt him trace his thumb on the back of her hand. Like he was telling her he was here to tether her, too. She glanced up at his face, just to check in. It wasn’t the worst she’d seen him. He wasn’t bloody or swollen all over, his pupils weren't scarily wide, and he wasn’t covered in dirt and muck. But he definitely wasn’t stable.  

Robin could tell that he was not ‘put back together’ by looking in his eyes. He still looked unfocused and frayed around the edges. However, she could also tell that he was shoving everything in a little box labeled ‘deal with later ,’ as his armor of confidence and charm was fitting a bit better this time. 

She could call him on it, but she won’t. At least, not for now. Not only would it be unhelpful for him, but she knew better. For now, she just wants to love and support him. To get him through this in one piece.

Robin is yanked out of her thoughts by a sudden cry of frustration from Dustin cutting through the fog of silence completely. “That’s exactly what I am saying! But unless anyone else can think of a perfectly normal explainable reason for this-” he asked, taking a pause to dramatically look around the room for speaking or hands raised.  

“No? Great! Then it's time to move on to the supernatural and unexplainable, since it’s clearly the more comforting alternative” he said, throwing his arms into the air as exasperation formed teeth in his tone.  

Robin looked up, intending to send a half-hearted glare at Dustin. But her aim was off, and instead, landed on Eddie. He was standing now, and his arms were crossed over his chest tight like a protective wall. His shoulders were raised and tense as if he had been bracing for something. Like he was ready to move at the slightest provocation. 

But it’s his eyes that stood out the most. Opened so wide, bouncing around the room with no rhyme or reason. They were so similar to how they looked back in that dark boat house. He looked desperate for an answer from someone and if he didn’t get one soon, Robin was half-convinced he’d just pull one out with brute force alone. 

To call Eddie just anxious would be the understatement of the millennia, in his humble opinion. He was already worried about and fixated on Steve. If he were honest with himself, he knew that his special attention on Steve was not merely out of friendly worry. But there is no way he can allow the thought to make a home in his head.  

This is not the first time he has fallen for a straight guy, but this time it isn’t some jock in the hallway or some pretty boy at a party. It’s Steve. He likes being around Steve, being friends with Steve. He could not risk ruining that. Losing Him. 

While he can stop himself from entertaining the thought, he cannot stop himself from feeling. The desperation compelled him to learn everything, to understand him so he could help him feel like himself again. Whoever he is now. He can tell he is going back into his shell just by looking at him. He wants to help him feel like he doesn’t need it anymore.  

Eddie’s anxiety had already been steadily increasing, but the second the ‘supernatural’ was brought up it went through the roof. All he can think about is how he almost died trying to kill this son of a bitch and it possibly didn't even work. “I am assuming when you say ‘supernatural’ you are talking about the Upside Down. But I thought he was dead.” His voice cracked, beginning to show the stress of how important the answer was to him. 

“We know Vecna is dead. Right?” He felt like his eyes were bulging out of their sockets as they tried to communicate what he wasn’t. That he was begging anyone to tell him that this was the truth. Eddie had already watched one person he cared about die at the hands of Vecna. He couldn't handle another. He wouldn’t let it happen.

Finally, Will answers. Eddie zeroes in on him as he speaks, using every word as footing to climb back to solid ground. Will’s voice starts out shaky, but not unsure of himself. 

“We are confident that he is, yes. To begin with, neither me nor El can sense him. Right?” He looked towards El for confirmation and saw that El had already been nodding before he had finished the question. This unspoken and simultaneous type of communication had only increased in frequency since the Vecna incident. Now, they tend to be on the same wavelength for most things.  

“Yes, I haven’t felt him. Not even once. Not since the last battle” El responded, mostly for the rest of the group than Will. 

El’s appearance had started to shift to a more relaxed one than it had been mere moments ago. She seemed soothed that she could answer a question posed and be confident in it, instead of the overwhelming confusion that colored her last hour and a half.  

Will continues, his voice stronger this time. “On top of that, we had people there in the Upside Down. And they watched Vecna burn to ash.”  

He lets out a sigh, “Listen, I am not saying that Vecna is completely gone because I can’t. No one can because nothing about this has ever been certain. All I am saying is that we have no evidence that he is still around” he says, maintaining calm eye contact with Eddie the whole time.  

Eddie doesn’t respond, verbally at least. But the way his eyes soften before he closes them, his shoulders relax, and movement slows tells enough. He is trying to let himself believe it. 

Eddie tilts his head up towards the ceiling, eyes shut now, trying to block out the room around him. Trying to create some kind of privacy for himself to walk back from the ledge. Gradually, he tries to take deep breaths, hoping to slow his heartbeat from the fever-pitch rhythm it had been. His hands are still shaking slightly, but hearing Will’s words had helped to lower the nervous energy that had been filling him up to the brim. 

He is drawn from his mind by the voice of Max, who had been silent since this fever dream of a movie night all began. Max, who up until this point, looked as if she had been using all her energy and will just to physically hold herself together. 

Some days, it still felt like Max was stuck living in the months that followed Billy’s death, when life had become hard to live. It still sometimes felt like the very air was too heavy and thick for her to breathe in. The guilt over hating Billy, despite the fact that he died saving her own life, had been consuming her.  

At the same time, she still missed him. When their parents got together, Billy had already been abrasive, hot-tempered, and troubled, but he was never violent or mean to her. He wasn’t always cruel to her, it was his dad that made him that way. Her feelings became all muddy, a thick and confusing mix of emotions, thoughts, and fears. It had been suffocating her.

She had hated herself so much because of the guilt. Couldn’t look in the mirror. Couldn’t see her friends. She could barely stand living with her mom, watching her fall into alcoholism. When mom was home at least, since she had to work nonstop just to get by without Neil. Max had been so miserable and so alone.  

Steve had tried to be there for her, even before they realized Vecna’s plan. He would bring her meals and talk to her through the door if she wouldn’t open it, things like how his day was, something funny Robin said or something embarrassing Mike did. Anything he thought would brighten her day to hear.  

He told her that she could come over whenever she wanted, to just call him and he’d pick her up. That she wouldn’t need to talk to him or explain why. She took him up on it. She still does, when things just get too much at home.  

Steve made good on his promise and never forced her to talk about anything but would always listen if she did want to talk. He had a guest room made up for her and cooked her meals. It had been a relief to have someone there to take care of her. She couldn’t say thank you. But she kept going back. 

At the height of Vecna’s reign, when she was convinced every minute that she would die within the next one, he grounded her. Made sure she stayed strong enough to keep going. He kept her safe as best he could, just like he always had before.  

After the final battle, when the fight was won yet it felt like anything but, he stepped up. He waited with Lucas at the hospital for her to wake up and he took her to all her doctor’s appointments after. When he found out she’d be in a wheelchair, nothing changed. Other than moving her room to one of the downstairs guest rooms.  

When she found out she’d need glasses to see normally again, she was angry and distraught. She had refused at first. Hated the glasses. Hated the idea of needing help. Hated feeling broken or damaged.  

So, he made a deal with her. If she got hers, he’d finally go and get his eyes checked. Something he had stupidly put off after Starcourt, when he got yet another concussion that resulted in damage to his eyes. So, now they have glasses together.  

Without Steve, Max had no idea what would have happened to her. She hadn’t felt as safe and unconditionally loved as she did by him since her dad was around. So, if Vecna somehow got his claws in Steve, she was going to do everything possible to stop it from happening. There were no alternatives. They were going to figure this out. They would find a solution. 

So, when Eddie had finally calmed some and the room slowed into another heavy silence, Max stepped up. She couldn’t take not working towards a plan anymore. “Not that I don’t appreciate you guys, but what does it matter if Vecna enacted this plan before he died or not?”

She paused to briefly gaze around the room, making sure everyone knew she was serious before continuing, “Either way, we know this has some tie to The Upside Down. And that it certainly feels like something Vecna would do. What we desperately need is to make a plan for how we move forward from here.” 

She looked over where El and Will sat in front of the couch, “Is that accurate?” she asked them. Both of them straightened up to look at her with El making eye contact and beginning to speak first, “Yes. I do not actively feel him through the tape. But I do feel residual energy from him. And I feel the Upside Down. Obscured, but there.” She finished with a nod, looking towards Will for his opinion.  

“Yeah, I agree with everything she said,” Will nodded, “But I’ve been thinking and… what if this tape was not dropped after the battle began?” He continued, voice shaking slightly. Will felt his muscles relax a bit, relieved to finally be sharing what he thought of at the start of this Upside Down discussion. 

“I think it’s more believable that it was dropped before the battle. Maybe even right on top of your movies, so you would find it then. But something happened. Whether it was pure luck or an intervention, it ended up at the bottom. And you didn’t find it until now” he finished, looking over to Dustin. The discomfort of the room was unmistakable, even in the silence that followed his statement. 

Dustin looked like an animal who had just caught a fresh scent, hungry and desperate to find the answer. He was nodding, whether at Will or at his thoughts, no one knew. All Dustin knew was that this was the first real lead he felt like they could build off in a while. He looked up at the group with an excited gleam in his eyes.  

First, he saw Steve, eyes glassy with unshed tears but more focused as they bounced back and forth between everyone. Like he was surprised and touched by how much they were willing to do for him.  

In the background he heard Nancy, “Wait… so you’re saying Vecna set this up before we even fought him?” Nancy said with puzzled excitement present on her face, similar to his own. 

He heard Robin speak up next, her voice fast and sharp, “Yes Nance, exactly that. But that means that Vecna had his eyes on Steve for a lot longer than any of us realized. And if that’s the case, why wasn’t he cursed when we were in the Upside Down like Nancy?” The party seemed to take a breath together as they mulled over this possibility. 

To his surprise, Steve broke the brief silence. But first he took a deep breath to steady himself. “I think it's because I already have a high tolerance to his mindscape. I frequently deal with… vivid flashbacks. So vivid they feel like they are real.” He took a break as his voice began to shake before continuing on.  

“And I probably would have just grounded myself and assumed it was a flashback or nightmare of some sorts, instead of thinking it's real like he wants me to,” he finished, hands shaking and breath unsteady, but he got through it.

Everyone seemed zeroed in on Steve, as he himself avoided eye contact like the plague. Some, like Max and Lucas, looked at him with only concern laced through their gazes. Others, like Nancy and Will, looked at him like they were trying to solve a puzzle or work out the validity of his statement. Thankfully for Steve, one voice broke through the smothering silence, that of Dustin Henderson.

“Finally! Something we can actually work with,” he adds, feeling energized that they might be able to do something to help Steve. He just hoped they didn’t have to hurt him in the process, like Max. He didn’t want that for him.  

Not after seeing what it did to Max, all the suffering and almost dying in the process. Not after knowing how much pain and damage Steve had been carrying inside all along. But if it came to it, Dustin would be right there, walking through hell beside him. Because that is what Steve had always done for him.

Chapter Text

MAY 31ST, 1986 7:15pm

Steve felt like a man walking to the gallows, knowing what was coming and yet being unable to stop it. The feeling of dread was slowly becoming suffocating but the bite of his nails as his hand curled into a fist helped to ground him in the moment. 

Will’s earlier confirmation of Vecna’s apparent disappearance had soothed a major fear for Steve. The kid’s Upside Down sense hadn’t been wrong before, so why would it be now? But to then hear that El still felt some kind of leftover energy from him on the tape made his stomach roil with anxiety. Deep down, Steve knew that if there was a chance this tape was associated with Vecna’s trickery, that ignoring its existence would only make the situation worse.

He turned towards Will, anxiously awaiting his own opinion on the situation. “Yeah, I agree with everything she said,” Will nodded. 

“But I’ve been thinking and… what if this tape wasn’t dropped after the battle began?” He said, voice shaking slightly.

“I think it’s more believable that it was dropped before the battle. Maybe even right on top of your movies, so you would find it then.” Will continued, sounding a bit more confident than before.

“But something happened. Whether it was pure luck or an intervention, it ended up at the bottom. And you didn’t find it until now,” Will finished, looking over to Dustin, the one who found the tape in the first place.

Steve watched Will's muscles relax as he said this, as if he had been holding in this revelation for quite a while. Steve however felt his muscles tighten at Will’s theory. All he could think was ‘How long did he have his eyes on me and I didn’t know? ’, and ‘ Why didn’t this tape come up before now? ’, and ‘ Had Vecna chosen him long before he even had a chance to fight back? ’

The discomfort of the room was unmistakable, even in the silence that followed his statement. Steve didn’t really know what he felt or what he should be feeling. All he knew was that it was too much. Like an over filled coffee mug, spilling out over the rim.

It occurred to Steve then, how much energy everyone was putting in for him. Max, Dustin, Nancy, and Robin are all trying to help him in their own ways. At this revelation, Steve felt a mix of surprise and gratitude for how much he seemed to mean to his chosen family. But at the same time, he had to fight the voice in his head convincing himself he didn’t deserve this love. 

It felt like the rug would be pulled out from under him, and this would all end up being a practical joke meant to make him look stupid.

If Steve hadn’t been stuck in the mud of his mind, he would have realized the number of eyes on him that were all starting to pick up on the signs of him spiraling. He felt someone squeeze his hand tight, pulling him back down to reality.

Three taps.

Robin.

As Robin’s fingers laced with his, her steady presence helped clear the fog in his mind, and his eyes finally focused on the group.

Steve noticed Dustin, who looked like a hunter who just caught a fresh scent. What stood out to Steve was the excited gleam in his eyes. Steve recognized that look. It was the same as the one he saw when the two were trying to decode the Russian code during Starcourt.

Nancy’s voice was the first to cut through the ringing in his ears as she spoke up from next to him, “Wait… so you’re saying Vecna set this up before we even fought him?” When he glanced at her, he couldn’t help but notice the same spark of puzzled excitement in her eyes that was also in Dustin’s.

He heard Robin speak up next, her voice fast and sharp, like she couldn’t hold back her thoughts any longer. “Yes Nance, exactly that. But that means that Vecna had his eyes on Steve for a lot longer than any of us realized. And if that’s the case, why wasn’t he cursed when we were in the Upside Down like Nancy was?” The party seemed to take a breath together as they mulled over this possibility.

Steve looked up and saw the concerned gaze of Hopper. He took in the Chief’s relaxed posture, something that he wouldn’t have expected from Hopper, especially when the Upside Down is involved. Which can only mean it’s intentional. Steve felt the tension melt out of his muscles in kind.

He saw the perceptive and caring eyes of Jonathan, someone who mere hours ago Steve thought only tolerated him. Steve hoped that after all of this, Jonathan wouldn’t change his mind about giving him another chance. He would really like to make it up to him for all the shitty things he’s done.

Then, he saw the heartbreaking eyes of Joyce Byers. He caught the tight grip she had on Hopper’s hand. If Steve had to guess, it was likely meant to hold herself back from rushing over and hugging him tight. It made him miss his mom. Miss her tight hugs and her graceful love. 

There are so many people who care, and Steve cannot help but feel obligated to give them something to go off of. Even if there is a risk that they might react poorly. A possibility which sits heavy in his stomach, as he’d never voiced these thoughts aloud before.

Steve broke the silence, to his own surprise. He took a deep breath to steady himself as his ribs felt like they were collapsing inward and crushing his lungs. 

“I think it's because I already have a high tolerance to his mindscape. I frequently deal with… vivid flashbacks. So vivid they feel like they are real.” He took a break as his voice began to shake. His throat felt thick with the weight of his confession, but he knew it would only get worse if he tried to swallow it back down. So, he continued on. 

“And I probably would have just grounded myself and assumed it was a flashback or nightmare of some sort, instead of thinking it's real like he wants me to,” he finished, hands shaking and breath unsteady, but he got through it. 

He briefly considered mentioning his theory about the ‘ gifts ’ he got from his mother and how they might have made it harder for Vecna to make a home in his mind. But he decided against it. 

While Steve was growing desensitized towards sharing his thoughts and fears with others, he knew that conversation would be too much for now. That people would have too many questions and maybe even challenge him on the logic of it all. No, if he was going to talk about anything having to do with their family’s ‘ spiritual abilities ’ it would be because it came up on the tape and he couldn't avoid it any longer. 

Distantly, he felt Robin rubbing circles into the back of his hand with her thumb. When he glances at her, he sees her tense features, but he knows it's all because of how anxious she is for him. 

His attention was drawn back to Dustin as he spoke up, “Finally! Something we can actually work with,” he said, appearing hopeful for the first time since they started to watch the tape. 

Dustin’s optimism felt like warm sunlight after months of rain and darkness. So Steve clung to it, even if it burned. Steve braced himself for what was inevitably coming. The questions, theories, and planning. All of which he needed to be more aware for. 

He couldn’t fall apart right now. So, he shoved everything that was overflowing deep into the back of his mind, and forced himself to stay present. Even though it made him feel exposed, like a live wire, sparking with tension and ready to react if necessary. He knew it had to be done. For the party, he kept reminding himself.

“Let’s talk about the elephant in the room. Do we need to watch the tape or not?” Max interjected. She wasn’t just worried about the tape but also worried about the content on it and how violating it would feel for Steve if the whole group were to watch it. 

As Max spoke, she saw Steve’s face flinch just slightly and her worry only deepened. If there was anything she knew about Steve, it was that he suppressed all of his needs and desires for others’ comfort. That flinch told her that she hit the nail right on the head, that Steve was terrified that they would need to watch everything. 

She knew she was cutting off the conversation, but she didn’t care about that right now. Max knew how it felt to have versions of yourself exposed to others against your will and she didn’t want Steve to feel the same way. Not after all he’s done for her. All she cared about was Steve.

From Steve’s perspective, Max’s interjection was a relief. He was relieved that someone else brought up what he was too anxious to. He felt his jaw unclench, allowing him to take in a deeper breath than he had been able to moments before. While he was nervous about the answer to the question, the anxiety of waiting for the answer had honestly been worse in his opinion.

“Well…” Nancy began by reaching over and giving Steve’s hand one last squeeze before she stood from her place next to him. “Let's see what we actually can do.” She walked over to where the remote sat next to Jonathan and picked it up. She first pressed rewind, and the tape responded immediately by returning to the opening shot of the baseball field. However, when she tried to turn off the TV, it did nothing. The image stubbornly refused to darken or leave the screen. Her brows furrowed with each failed attempt at turning off the TV.

“Well I’m sure that’s a good sign for us” Eddie interjected, his tone trying to be his normal sarcastic cadence. But it wavered slightly as the anxiety bled in. When Steve glanced up, he saw how brittle his smirk appeared, as if it would shatter if the wind blew too hard. His demeanor was off just enough to be unsettling, as the man hadn’t fully recovered from his own brush with panic. 

Nancy’s frustration was clearly showing now, in her clenched jaw and rapidly tapping foot. This didn’t make sense to her, none of it, and she hated when things didn’t make sense. Most of all, she hated what this likely meant for Steve. She turned towards Steve, who had to quickly suppress a flinch at the sudden turn and the intensity of her movements. 

In the moment, it felt too abrupt to Steve, too intense to be anything but anger at him rather than what he logically knew it to be. Anger at the situation.

Steve felt his stomach do a somersault, he knew that she wouldn’t hurt him. But that didn’t stop his body from reacting like she might. 

“Where's the button to shut the TV down?” Nancy asked, voice firm.

Ever since Starcourt, since the Russians, when Steve felt like he was being questioned. When he felt like no matter what he answered, truth or lie, the person answering would still be upset, he would start to panic.

The memories slammed into him like a giant wave. He’d start to feel rope binding his wrists, feel pressure building up behind his bad eye. Breathing would then get harder thanks to the sensation of broken ribs. The only thoughts in his head were ‘ Oh god. It’s happening again. They found me. ’ over and over again.

Yet, he could feel the carpet of his living room under him and not the cold metal of the base. He breathed in air that smelled like the lavender candle Robin picked out instead of copper. 

People were staring as he hesitated to answer her simple question and Steve didn’t particularly want to know what they thought of him at this moment. As, he could only find himself embarrassed at his reaction to something so simple. 

Somehow, he found the courage in himself to look up and shake off the remnants of panic best he could. He locked eyes with one Eddie Munson. The man who currently seemed to be intensely concerned about him and seemed to watch his every move. Like he had been trying to figure out what Steve would do next. Eddie upon realizing they were making eye contact morphed his brittle smirk into a brief but earnest smile, as if encouraging him to keep going. The fact that he wasn’t pushing him to speak but merely encouraging him to was more of a relief than Steve expected. 

He taps Robin’s hand three times and feels her tap back. Tries to keep himself grounded. He rubs his hand over his face, wiping off the memories of dried blood caked over his features. ‘ I am not there anymore. ’ he kept telling himself as he forced his voice out of his shaking throat, “Yeah… it’s on the left end of the TV.”

Nancy moved with purpose to the left end of the TV and pushed the off button, with no success in turning it off. The screen still buzzed with its omnipresent glow, as if mocking them and their powerlessness. In the background she could hear Dustin’s voice, “Why isn’t it turning off?” His voice tinged with anxiety.

At this point, Nancy’s frustration was only growing louder and gradually saturated with bewilderment. She took a step back from the TV, and breathed in deep before reaching behind the machine to try unplugging it.

Her hand wrapped around the wire but didn’t immediately pull it out. She had been hesitating to take the most extreme action because if this didn’t work, there was no doubt that this was supernatural. They would have cold, hard evidence.

Nancy knew she couldn’t stand here all day, no matter how much she wished time would freeze and let her collect herself. She could hear the tense breathing of the party behind her, see the rigid form of Steve where he sat right in front of the TV. While most might not notice, she could tell that Steve was merely feigning indifference. For his ear was carefully cocked towards her, waiting for the moment she unplugged the TV and sealed his fate.

It was moments like these that Nancy really hated being the first to move, the first through the door. She hated being the one to rip off the band-aid, exposing the festering wounds beneath. Especially when it involved someone she cared about, someone like Steve. 

But someone had to do it. She took a deep breath and pulled the plug on the TV. 

Nothing changed.

The screen still shone.

Malicious and unyielding. 

Nancy sighed and felt tears brimming in her eyes. Yet, she still forced herself to look at Steve as he all but collapsed in on himself.

Steve knew deep down in his gut that the tape was rooted in the supernatural. So, from his perspective, the moment Nancy unplugged the TV only served as confirmation. His back hunched as his muscles relaxed and his head dropped down, chin now gently brushing his chest. It was almost soothing to finally have an answer instead of taking a shot in the dark and hoping it lands. But overall, he just felt so tired. 

The type of bone deep exhaustion that doesn’t go away, that eats at you until there is nothing left. This would be his fifth time dealing with the Upside Down. Now, instead of the panic and fear he associated with his previous experiences, he only noticed his limbs that felt heavy like lead and the sluggish pace of his thoughts.

He felt Robin squeeze his hand tight, and he squeezed right back. The silence of the room as everyone processed was heavy and smothering, like a weighted blanket full of cement. Steve took just a moment to breathe. To sit in the silence and fill his lungs without having to force the air in. He knew it wouldn’t last, it never had, and he had a hard time believing it ever would. As he could feel the growing sense of impending doom on the horizon. Hungry and threatening to swallow him whole.

Steve looked up at the party around him and noted all their tense and resigned faces. He first zeroed in on Lucas, his grip on Max’s hand still tight and unwavering. His eyes were wider than usual, and his breathing had picked up in pace. To Steve, he looked terrified of what would come out of this. All he wanted to do was wrap Lucas up in a hug and tell him it would all be okay, but there was nothing to say. He hated that.

Steve next glanced at Mike, a kid he’d always known to take charge of the situation sitting there silently. The kid seemed like he was watching all of this take place behind thick, impenetrable glass. Mike’s eyes were half-lidded and unfocused. He tracked the movement of those around him, but his eyes merely floated on if anyone tried to make contact with him. When he looked at Mike, he saw a younger version of himself. A realization that left him feeling hollow. 

As Steve ran his eyes over the room, he recognized that despite the differences between everyone’s reactions, they all carried the same undercurrent of weariness he was feeling himself.

When he glanced over to Eddie, he immediately noticed his slack gaze as he propped himself up on the arm of the couch, something so uncharacteristic from the man who usually had heaps of energy to spare. It unsettled him to see the other looking so unlike himself. 

He could see it in Robin as she leaned over to rest her head on his shoulder and wrapped both her arms around his own. Steve felt himself unable to hold back a brief smile at Robin’s action, despite the oppressive atmosphere. 

It was like everyone had started to lose themselves in helplessness. No one felt strong enough to break the ceiling of silence holding them down. The first of them brave enough to speak up was unsurprisingly Dustin.

“So… there’s our confirmation that this tape is without a doubt supernatural.” Dustin paused, taking a breath before continuing on with a conflicted look in his features. He swallowed hard as he prepared to speak through the discomfort.

“And if that’s the case… I have to know Steve. Were there any warning signs we missed?” Steve could see the tears start to build up in the younger’s eyes as he spoke.

“Specifically… have you been having any of the typical Vecna symptoms? Or did you have them during spring break?” Dustin asked at a hurried pace while wringing his hands. He could tell how worried the kid was about him, about what answer he might give. His uncharacteristic insecurity and his inconsistent eye contact told enough.

Dustin continued as if afraid of Steve’s normal coping mechanisms taking over.  “I… I won’t be mad if you did and didn’t tell anyone. I already know you are a… a self-sacrificing idiot.” He finished, the corner of his lip stuttering upward as he used the familiar term of endearment. Like he was treading lightly but still found himself chasing a sense of normalcy.

Steve gave a shaky smile in return before responding to Dustin’s question. He tried to find the best way to answer, as it is true that he had similar symptoms to those Max had when Vecna was in her mind. In his case, he just marked it up to his serial concussions. A fact that he knew would only upset Dustin further. 

He hated to see him feel so out of control and scared. The last thing he wanted to do was crush that small bit of hope Dustin did have, but it didn’t seem like he’d get much of a choice.

The truth is that ever since ‘84 he’s had migraines that could make every light feel like a dagger through your eyes. The kind of pain that makes you want to reach for a double dose of ibuprofen, desperate for even an inch of relief. Ever since Starcourt, he got nosebleeds much easier and more often. Since then, he knew what it felt like to choke on your own blood. Of course, even before he came to Hawkins he had nightmares nearly every night.

If that's the case, when did the symptoms of his life experiences stop and the symptoms of Vecna start? What terrified him more than anything was the idea of not being able to tell the difference between the two. If he said this all aloud, he knew that would make it real. He wouldn’t be able to hide it anymore. An idea that makes his palms start to sweat and his head swim.

He squirmed slightly as he felt their eyes burrowing into him, waiting expectantly for his response. Steve wanted their probing gazes off him, even if it was just for a few minutes. Desperately, he wanted a breather, and he feared if he didn’t get one soon his anxiety would start to boil over. So, he tried to collect his thoughts in as neat a fashion as he can and started to speak.

“That’s a bit of a complicated question. I mean… sure I had migraines, bad ones. But I’ve also had migraines since Billy broke a plate over my head.” He paused briefly, as his mind still felt heavy with fog, making it hard to think. A sharp inhale cut through the silence, maybe Max’s, but it was too brief to tell.

“Similarly, I did have nosebleeds. But I started to get those all the time after the Russians broke my nose.” he sighed, feeling the weight of his confession fully now. Robin squeezed his arm at his words, likely because she is only just now making the connection herself.  

“I don’t know what could have been Vecna and what was just a result of too many concussions. So, I don’t think we’ll find an answer to our question this way.” Steve finished, as he chewed on the inside of his cheek. The nuances of it all were quickly becoming overwhelming. He was the reason everyone’s stuck here and sat powerless to get them out. His jaw clenched and his shoulders tensed as guilt began to claw its way up his throat.

In the brief quiet of the room, it was easy for Steve to fall victim to his own anxious imaginings until he looked up and saw the startled reactions of the group. Clearly, whatever they had been expecting him to say, it certainly wasn't that. Steve couldn’t decide if the shock coloring their features was better or worse than the alternative.

Some people stood out, like Max, who already knew about his migraines and nosebleeds after Starcourt but like him had assumed they were due to his concussions. Now, her eyes were filled with barely contained tears as she realized how similar his symptoms were to Vecna’s manipulations. Or like Hopper, who was struggling to contain his frustration at the lack of clarity inherent to the situation. The chief’s reactions were subtler than usual, but his jaw still clenched and his neck was still tight.

Steve’s attention was drawn back in by Dustin’s voice once again, “Okay… you’re right. We probably can’t use that as evidence in either direction, no matter how upset that makes me” he finished. His voice shook as his composure fractured under the pressure of it all. Just as Steve finds himself trying to muster up the energy to comfort Dustin, Max decides to speak up.

“So, we know it is supernatural, but don’t know for sure how Vecna is involved. Big deal,” she says, closer to her normal sarcastic tone.

“In reality, that isn’t the most important mystery to solve. And the more time we spend doing this the more discouraged we’re becoming.” Max looked out at the others before continuing.

“So, let's focus on answering the most important question at this time. Do we need to watch the tape or not?” she finished, eyes still teary but also full of steely determination. There would be no throwing her off course.

Eddie spoke up next, his voice settling into form as he already seemed to perk up at having a direction to move in. “I vote that we pass this question on to the wonder twins for a verdict,” his tone was clearer and more energetic than it had been in a while. “Anyone else wish to contradict me?” Eddie spoke with a cat-like grin. His demeanor was still slightly off, beneath his convincing false bravado.

El, who seemed to take what Eddie said seriously, hesitated to answer the question for a bit. When she felt she had waited long enough for an interjection, she straightened up from her position leaning against Hopper’s leg and spoke. “I feel like the tape wants us to watch it. It’s unclear what would happen if we don’t. It would be safest to watch.” El finished, looking towards Will for confirmation.

Will seemed to take a deep breath “I can’t speak to what the tape wants. What I can say is I also have no idea what will happen if we don’t watch it. There’s no instinctual pull in either direction. Who knows how dangerous or deadly the outcome could be?” Will said, avoiding eye contact with the group, like he’s trying to pull himself together.

He felt Robin straighten up from her place on his shoulder to interject, “And if our theory is right about Vecna having placed this tape before the battle to weaken and isolate Steve, then the best solution may be to watch it. It negates its power, that is if we keep him from hurting himself and his relationships after.” Her voice back to her usual rapid and energetic rhythm. 

Steve felt the air leave his lungs. It was one thing to expect something bad, to expect pain. It was entirely different to get confirmation that there is no other option. That there is no way out. He felt the hair raise on the back of his neck and his palms begin to sweat as numbness took over his limbs. Deep down, he couldn’t help but feel angry at himself for reacting like this. 

Steve knew he should be grateful for Robin’s care. Should be thankful that the group was trying to find a way to get him through this whole. But upon imagining their penetrating stares and hyperfocus directed at him, all he could feel was the violent boil of anxiety in his stomach.

He couldn’t take sitting in this damn room anymore with the sound of shitty VCR mechanics and TV buzz directly in his ear. It felt personal. Like the tape wanted him to know that it desperately wanted to hurt him. Sure, Steve would watch the tape. He knew he had to. But first, he needed a break from the oppressive atmosphere. For his heart was beating out of his chest and he feared that he would break if someone so much as breathed too loudly. 

Steve squeezed Robin’s hand before releasing it and standing abruptly. He knew that if he said nothing that they would only follow after him. So, he tried to clear his throat and said, “I need a breather before we watch, don’t follow please.” The words came out strangled as his throat felt like it would close up. The party watched as he left, startled at his sudden leave. They had never known Steve to run. 

He strode out the front door, sat on the porch, and took in a deep breath of humid early-summer air. His lungs were finally able to take in a full breath. Steve felt his tension melt, like his joints were made of metal and the old hinges had been treated, allowing more freedom to move. 

As he sat, Steve found himself desperately craving a cigarette. He smoked frequently before the Upside Down, but after he met Robin and her hatred of cigarettes, he had mostly quit the habit. When his anxiety was too high to come down, when everything felt out of control, he found himself often falling back into it.

From the pack in the pocket of his jacket, he pulled out a cigarette and lit it. The glow from the tip was a comfort on its own, but the first inhale… and exhale… was really what settled the buzzing under his skin. 

He tried to just lose himself in the moment, allow himself to not perform for a while. Because he knew that the next couple hours would be intensive and draining. So, he focused on breathing, smoking, and enjoying the view as the sun started to make its descent towards the horizon.

The sounds of the crickets and critters were interrupted by the sound of the door opening. While initially disappointed at the interruption, he couldn’t help but feel a warmth bloom in his chest as he recognized the familiar sound of Max’s wheelchair rolling along the porch. But he also knew Max. So even though he felt safe and at ease around her, there was a voice at the back of his mind. Warning him to prepare for anything and everything. 

She sat with him in silence for a few moments before cutting through it with a question, “Do you remember the first time Vecna almost got me? At Billy’s grave?” 

The question caught him completely off guard. The image of her floating high above the ground, completely unresponsive, overwhelmed his senses momentarily. For a second, it was like he could feel the panic and the hopelessness he felt then. But Max was tapping on the metal frame of her chair. Giving him an anchor point to this moment as he pushed away the image. He took a deep breath before responding, face remaining impassive “Yeah… why?”.

Max was looking out to the street and fidgeting with the edge of her sleeve as she responded. “I know that you know the gist of it. But I don’t think I ever told you about it.” She blinked rapidly for a few moments, as if trying to wipe away the image he knew lived with her still. 

“When I was in Vecna’s mindscape of the Creel House I really almost died.” She looked down at her hands before continuing. 

“Like he had me pinned up with his vines… and his hold just felt so unbreakable. He wanted me to give in. To give him permission to take my life. He reminded me of all the bad. He took advantage of my self-hatred. My heart had been beating so fast it hurt. It felt like being in a black hole of despair.” Her hands shook briefly, but her words remained crisp and clear.

“Kate Bush did help, it opened a… kind of window to the present. Where I could see you guys and get out.” She paused for a moment, as if psyching herself up to continue on. Steve wanted to reach out and hug her, but he knew that wasn’t what she would want. Not right now. Max needed to do this by herself to prove that she could. 

“But what let me break free from his control was remembering all those who love me. That was when I could hurt him back. I had to choose to accept their love, and I had to fight tooth and nail for my own life.” As she spoke, she turned to face Steve and looked into his eyes and continued. 

“I am not asking you to suddenly get better or pretend like you’re not messed up. I just want you to choose to be here. I want you to fight for it and stop pushing everyone away. And please just take the help if you need it. It’s not a crime. ” She finished as she looked at him with a complex intensity, emotion pouring out like a dam had burst. As if she were communicating all the things she couldn’t say aloud.

Steve couldn’t help but stare back, as he desperately hoped his own gaze would do the same. There are so many things he could say to her to tell her how much she meant to him. But even though he felt all of those things in every cell of his body, he didn’t think he could say them right now. No matter how much he wished to.

Just the thought of doing so made his heart rate increase and made him feel like he’d done something wrong. Something dangerous. As in the past, it only served to give others a reason to hurt him. 

If he dwelled on the feeling for too long, he’d start to hear the voice of his father or his childhood bullies, feel their hands grip his flesh. Even though it’s been nearly six years since he saw his father, his violence was vivid in his memories. That kind of hurt, you cannot forget as easily. But the routine of stamping out his cigarette quelled the rising tide of emotion. 

Thankfully, the way she had relaxed her posture and slowed her nervous movement was enough for him to know she got him. Max usually got him. In a way some of the others just couldn’t.

Steve sighed, wiping his hand over his face. It was all setting in now, the weight of it sat heavy on his shoulders. What he would have to do. To keep himself here in the moment, he tried to focus on convincing himself that his loved ones would be there for him. That it’s okay to reach out for help. That it doesn’t make you weak. He wants to be able to, he wants to do right by Max.

“When did you get so mature?” He asked, aiming to lighten the mood but ending up at bitter-sweetness.

“Almost dying will do that to you,” she replied, her usual sarcastic tone falling flat as the fatigue set in. 

“But you already knew that.” She added, like she was reminding him that this wasn’t his first time staring down a barrel. Max was quiet for a few moments, before holding out her hand like a peace offering.

Steve took her offer and steadily held her hand. She looked down at him before saying “You good to face the horde yet? They won’t wait patiently forever,” as the corner of her mouth raised.

“You’re right. I guess we better get in there before someone breaks down the door,” he replied, a comfortable smile sliding onto his face briefly. Even as the dread in the back of his mind threatened to push forward.

Steve was used to jumping into situations headfirst. Used to being the leader of the charge. But now, when he was at the center of an Upside Down-related mess, it's like his legs are super glued to the concrete. It had always been easy to fight for everyone else, but it was harder for him to fight for himself. 

As he tried to gather himself, out of the peaceful calm of nature, he heard a familiar but faint voice. “ You’ve always been a fighter, Finn. That’s what we have in common, why we were friends, ” he said, his tone was commanding and yet deeply caring.

Steve felt himself stiffen and his eyes widen. Distantly he felt Max squeeze his hand a bit tighter, but it was buried in the fog of his thoughts. He tilted his head slightly, as if that might help him hear the noise clearer. But there were no other words uttered. A rush of a memory, twelve years old, Texas Chainsaw Massacre, the drive in, helping him with math homework, in a bathroom wrapping his bleeding knuckles, a basement, a black phone. 

A black phone.

He could still hear its nauseating ring. 

His chest tightened, he knew that voice. Hearing himself called Finn without warning gave him goosebumps, made him long for a time long passed. Steve? Finn? Whoever he was now, he felt his heart gallop faster and faster. The boy’s voice alone had the power to bring tears to his eyes at the best of times.

It’s Robin Arellano.

After Robin’s death, he would hear his voice frequently. Steve had told himself it must have been a coping mechanism he’d formed. But deep down he knew it was real.

Now, he just hoped he really could talk to ghosts and that it wasn’t just him going crazy. Gwen’s abilities were real, why wouldn’t his be? He hadn’t heard Robin for a while, but he usually made himself known when it mattered. Steve didn’t know if that was a good omen or a bad one, but he had decided it didn’t matter all that much. If Robin was here with him, he wouldn’t be alone. If he didn’t choose to fight, it would insult Robin’s sacrifice for him, and Steve couldn’t ever do that to him.

Using Robin’s words as fuel, he forced himself to stand and took one last look as the sun set. The view of the sun gradually disappearing into the tree line slowed his racing thoughts. He took in shaky breaths as he tried to steady himself in the moment.  Max cleared her throat, snapping him out of his trance. Her eyes betrayed the worry she wouldn’t utter, but she had to trust that he would reach out if he needed it. So, she squeezed his hand tight before releasing him and they reluctantly turned to go inside.