Chapter Text
The mist hung thick and still outside the cabin, a wall of white that swallowed the world whole. Steve Harrington stood at the window, the old wooden frame cold against his forehead as he squinted into the nothingness. His breath fogged up the glass, blurring his view even more. Not that it mattered. He couldn’t see more than ten feet past the porch.
He tapped his fingers against the windowsill, restless. It had been two weeks since the battle at the Upside Down, and the mist hadn’t lifted once. It slithered through Hawkins like it owned the place, creeping into every alley and side street, seeping into the cracks of the world they used to know.
Two weeks since Steve had dragged Eddie out of the blood-soaked hell that nearly killed them both. Eddie was barely holding on back then, and though he’d pulled through, he still wasn’t right. His body was a mess of bandages, and every breath he took sounded like it scraped through broken glass.
Steve pushed away from the window and turned to look at the makeshift bed they’d set up by the fireplace. Eddie lay there, half-buried in blankets, eyes closed. He looked pale, even against the warm glow of the firelight, the shadows under his eyes deep and bruised. His unruly curls fanned out over the pillow, damp with sweat.
Steve’s chest tightened, watching him. Eddie’s been through hell, and now they were stuck in this cabin—cut off, surrounded by fog that felt too much like the Upside Down’s tendrils.
He walked over, crouching down beside the bed, careful not to make too much noise. Eddie stirred anyway; one eye cracking open.
“You’re staring again,” Eddie rasped, his voice thick with exhaustion. “You know, if you’re gonna watch me sleep like some creep, you could at least bring me flowers first.”
Steve snorted, grateful for the familiar sarcasm. “If I had flowers, you’d be the last person I’d give them to, Munson.”
“Liar.” Eddie’s lips twitched into a faint smile before wincing as he shifted his position. “How’s the great outdoors?”
“Same as it’s been for the past two weeks. White. Foggy. Creepy.”
“Wonderful. Sounds like prime picnic weather.”
Steve shook his head. “You should rest. You’re still healing.”
Eddie huffed, closing his eyes again. “Can’t really do much else, can I? Thought the worst thing about getting eaten alive by demobats would be, y’know, the getting eaten part. Turns out, lying here like a corpse is almost worse.”
Steve leaned back on his heels, crossing his arms. “You’re not a corpse. I wouldn’t be here if you were.”
That got a quiet laugh out of Eddie, though it quickly turned into a rough cough. Steve grabbed the water bottle by the fire and handed it to him. Eddie took a slow sip, wincing as he swallowed.
Steve hovered, his fingers itching to do something—anything. This wasn’t his thing, playing nursemaid. But Eddie needed him, and Steve had decided back in that godforsaken Upside Down that he wasn’t leaving him behind. Not now, not ever.
“Thanks, Harrington,” Eddie muttered, his voice soft. “For sticking around. I know you’ve got better things to do than babysit me.”
Steve glanced at him, his chest tightening again. “There’s nothing better for me to do right now.”
Eddie opened one eye again, studying Steve with a look that was half-amused, half-curious. “Really? You telling me you don’t have a hot date with the apocalypse outside? Hawkins High’s favorite babysitter, spending all his time with me?” He raised a brow. “Maybe you’ve got a hero complex.”
Steve rolled his eyes. “Maybe you’ve got a death wish. Why’d you stay back there anyway?”
Eddie’s smirk faded, his gaze shifting to the ceiling. “I didn’t want to run anymore,” he said quietly. “Guess I figured... if I was gonna go, I’d rather go fighting.”
Steve swallowed hard, the weight of Eddie’s words hitting him in the gut. He remembered the panic when he’d found Eddie bleeding out, those stupid bats tearing him apart. Steve hadn’t let himself think too much about what would’ve happened if he hadn’t gotten to him in time.
But Eddie was here, and Steve was here, and maybe that was enough.
“I’m glad you didn’t,” Steve said, his voice softer than he meant it to be.
Eddie blinked, his gaze flicking back to Steve’s. Something unspoken passed between them, something that hung in the air, fragile and real. But before Steve could say anything else, a sound outside broke the moment.
A faint shuffle, just beyond the porch.
Steve’s body went rigid, his hand instinctively moving to the bat by the door. Eddie’s eyes widened, and he tried to sit up, but the effort sent a grimace of pain across his face.
“Stay down,” Steve hissed, creeping toward the door. The mist pressed against the windows, thick and impenetrable, hiding whatever was out there. It could be anything. Another monster, a stray demodog, or something worse.
Steve gripped the handle of his bat, his knuckles white.
Another shuffle. Closer this time.
He braced himself, heart pounding, as he slowly cracked the door open.