Chapter Text
Back in ‘83, Steve remembered coming across a random slip of paper with a contact number in his room that advertised itself as a ‘Return and Exchange’ service. It had been a little strange, because he didn’t remember picking it up or taking it off someone’s hands— it was as if it just appeared out of nowhere. But Steve had paid it no mind at the time, pushing it aside in favor of his textbooks. History, Calc, English… one by one he ticked them off in his mind. It was more for appearance than anything— he wasn’t failing in his classes, but it wasn’t like he was getting straight A’s or anything like that. His near to perfect sports record made up for his average grades, so really, you lose some and you win some. Steve was perfectly content with that.
Besides, if he wasted any more time at home, he’d be late to first period. And late to meeting with one beautiful Nancy Wheeler.
He wasn’t about to mess things up with her, not when he was so serious about her— the first time he’s ever been serious about a girl. He wouldn’t trade her for anything.
The earthquake demolished everything.
Steve was naive for thinking that they wouldn’t affect his neighborhood, not when the earthquakes got worse over time. El had closed the main gates and later on, the random ones that would show up every now and then. But it was not long after that, that the military started sticking their noses in Hawkins, started camps and put fences all over the outskirts of their small town— caging them in like some animals. Some folks bolted the moment the military set foot in town, but most decided to stay. Then more gates started opening. Then the military started hunting for El like it was some sort of sick sport. Then they started restricting entry to Hawkins and limiting everyone’s movements— implementing curfews, restricted zones— and it just all went to shit.
The earthquakes got worse because nobody could close the gates. Because the military was practically colonizing the Upside Down for a reason that they didn’t know yet at the time.
But Steve was notorious for having hope, or at least, the kids saw him as some sort of symbol of hope— a form of safety. He’d protected them time and time again, and he wasn’t going to stop any time soon. Not until the Upside Down was closed for good and wouldn’t terrorize their goddamn lives anymore. He held the same sentiment for Nancy, Jonathan, Robin and Ed— his heart stuttered. Steve just wanted them all to be safe, wanted them all to just live normally for once. His home provided that for them, even if it never provided that for himself.
The few D&D campaigns that the kids held when their main focus wasn’t El’s safety or a patrol or crawl. It was their safe space from all the madness out there. His house was a break from all the strategizing and responsibilities that were bestowed upon the older teens too— sometimes, Nancy would drop by and just wordlessly make herself comfortable in his living room. Sometimes Jonathan would stumble in, already high out of his ass and ranted about things that weren’t Upside Down related. Robin was always there by default, but even she would walk into the kitchen, and Steve could practically see the tension leaving her shoulders.
(If Eddie were around, perhaps he too would drop by unannounced or maybe he’d permanently make himself a resident just like Robin. Steve never lingered on the thought for too long.)
All of them considered his house safe, whether that was because of Steve or not, he didn’t care. All that mattered to him was that they had a place to just be themselves.
But alas, the house was gone. The earthquake left nothing in its wake. Not the pool that Steve could barely look at. Not the kitchen that he spent most of his time in— baking for the anybody that crossed his mind, passing time with Robin as they worked together to make lunch or dinner. Not Robin’s room that they spent hours decorating together until it felt right. Not the dining or living room that has seen more laughter and joy in the past few months than all the years that Steve has ever lived here.
It ruined him. Left an ugly feeling in his stomach that he couldn’t shake even when he tried to salvage whatever remains that he could find. Steve Harrington never got to keep many things in his life, and the things that he thought would stay for a while had always been taken away from him just when he thought they’d stay forever.
It happened with his parents. It happened with Nancy. It happened with his house.
(It happened with Eddie.)
Just when the place that he hated so much was slowly turning into something that he could learn to love— especially when Robin decided to make it her (temporary) home after her family left Hawkins for good too. He wanted to see it more than something that has only ever housed his loneliness, he wanted to see it as a home too.
It was one thing, to have his parents leave for good, telling him that if he wanted to succumb to whatever fate Hawkins’ had for him then so be it— if that’s what you want to do, Steven, then do so as you please, his father had scoffed at him, don’t come to us when you end up regretting it. His mother had only stared at him sadly, but even under that emotion, there was no warmth. Only pity. Then it was another to lose their house— his house ever since they left town. One of the two connections he had to them, in some sad fucked up way.
Steve had tried, really tried to find all the things that mattered to him— going into what was left of his room, with the goal of trying to find anything that his friends had given him over the years. Among all that searching, a familiar slip of paper made itself known.
Steve stared at it for a long while, wondering how it was still even here in the first place. If the service even worked anymore after all this time. The earthquakes had also started to wreck some stores in town, it wouldn’t surprise him if the thing no longer provided on what it was advertising. He hadn’t called them— contemplated, sure, but he had never picked up the landline and punched in the numbers. The only reason he thought about it all in the first place was because once it was clear that his parents would rarely come back to Hawkins, he might as well just sell off the more expensive items inside the house. It’d be good to have extra cash on hand, for the kids mainly and maybe some for himself.
But again, he had never called, and the slip of paper remained forgotten.
Until he found it again, here, in the wreckage of his house.
“Steve-o! Let’s get moving before Hops grills us for being late!” Robin had yelled which promptly snapped him out of his thoughts.
Shit, he thought to himself as he packed up the few things he found unscathed and the things he cared about. Robin was right— if they ended up being late for a crawl, not only would Hopper grill them, but Nancy would hop on their ass too. The fact that he and Robin wanted to come here at all was met with resistance, it wasn’t until Joyce vouched for them that both Nancy and Hopper relented. You’ll be quick right, honey? And Steve had been so desperate to just go and see if there was anything left that he nodded comically fast.
Steve stared at the paper again, turning it around.
‘Now, more than ever, don’t you want them back?’
He carefully placed the slip in his pocket, swallowing his confusion down his throat— refusing to think about what the words this time around meant. Because it wasn’t the first time that it had writing on its back— it wasn’t the first time that the back of the paper changed.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming!” He yelled, moving to catch up with Robin.
The aftermath of Starcourt had Steve reeling.
It was meant to be just a quick summer job, to show his father that he had learned his lesson and that he’ll take life seriously from then on. Even if he knew deep down that he’ll always be a disappointment in his parents’ eyes— that it was too late for him to be anything other than a sight for sore eyes. Whether it be to his parents or to the dating pool that he was supposed to appeal to.
All of it seemed stupid now, in retrospect. He had bigger fucking problems. Hawkins’ had bigger fucking problems. Him being a failure would’ve meant nothing if he had died in that Russian bunker. Fuck, Steve Harrington could’ve easily been erased from history if he had died getting the shit beaten out of him, or if that thing— the Mindflayer, the kids called it— had killed all of them in Starcourt. None of it would’ve meant anything, failure or successes.
As it turned out, the Upside Down wasn’t gone, despite what El had told them in ‘84. At that point, Steve hadn’t cared. All he cared about was everyone’s safety and what they were up against.
The Mindflayer wasn’t just an Upside Down thing. It was also many people from the town— it was Billy Hargrove. The same Billy that beat the living shit out of him a year ago. The same Billy that he rammed into with the sexiest car he’s ever driven in his life.
Then Billy died right in front of Max. Steve wished he had the ability to cover all of the kids’ eyes from seeing that shit, wished they didn’t have to see someone getting punctured through their fucking chest by a monster and have to hear Max’s screams afterwards.
When he and Robin walked out of the mall, first responders were already on sight. They got ushered to an ambulance to get checked out— Robin had tightened her hold on him and Steve squeezed her back in reassurance. She was part of this now— her and Erica— and it was all his fault. Even if he protected their little crew of four, they were involved with this bullshit now, and Dustin was in even deeper shit than he was before. The three of them didn’t deserve any of it.
Then he found out Hopper had died in the Russian bunker.
El lost her father. Max, although they didn’t have a good relationship, lost her brother.
Is this what’ll keep happening to us? Steve had thought as he watched the haunted look on Max’s face— watched the way El crumbled in Joyce’s arms when she walked out alone. I’m sorry, sweetheart, I’m so sorry, he could see her murmuring into the young girl’s hair. Steve had dragged his knees up to his chin and closed his eyes.
Let this be the last time. For their sake.
His parents had come back briefly to Hawkins after the whole cover-up story was released. Starcourt under fire! Town Chief one of the victims… If it was out of concern for him or because they wanted to maintain their image by showing up to Hopper’s funeral, Steve wasn’t so sure. It was probably the latter, but Steve really wanted to believe that it was the former. That his parents cared about him in some way.
They didn’t. He knew they didn’t when they paid for his medical bills wordlessly, took one look good at him and told him to, ‘patch yourself up, Steven’ because ‘nobody wants a banged up worker,’ and left Hawkins without another thought all over again. So Steve licked his wounds in a desolate house, refusing contact with anyone and everyone. Even Robin, who had declared them soulmates after the whole ordeal, and Dustin who repeatedly rang the phone and the walkie almost every day.
Steve nursed his painful but healing black eye and sporadic pains to his ribs in silence.
He had gotten up from bed one day, limping to his desk to take some medicine. Beside his many prescriptions, a slip of paper with a familiar number was right there. He stared at it blankly, trying to recall where exactly he saw it.
‘Return and Exchange’, the front part of the paper showed. The fuck? He initially thought, before his eyes widened. Right! He’d pick it up occasionally, wondering if he should call it, but he didn’t remember picking it up in the past couple of weeks— which left him confused as to why it was on his desk in the first place.
He flipped the paper over.
‘For things you regret and want to get back,’ was written at the back. He blinked. There had never been anything written at the back of paper until now. From the very first time he found it, and all the times he’s held it and looked it over.
Maybe it was the exhaustion in his bones, maybe it was the ridiculousness of it all— but Steve considered it, thought about the things he regretted and the things he wanted back.
Losing Nancy was one of them, the relationship he so desperately tried to maintain because he truly did believe that she was the one for him. But if he hadn’t fucked it all up, if he hadn’t bought a sad bouquet of roses and went to the Wheeler’s house, he wouldn’t have met Dustin— wouldn’t have the gaggle of kids that he had now. He regretted not paying attention to the lights back then, too caught up with Nancy and all that she had to offer that he didn’t hear or see the commotion happening right in his own backyard, in his pool— a result of his own selfishness. He regretted being an asshole in high school because it pushed him away from people like Robin. Robin who was his soulmate, who was brighter than life itself, who had so much more to lose than Steve.
His head throbbed dully as he shifted his thoughts to something he wanted to get back.
“My goddamn innocence, maybe,” he muttered under his breath as the pain flared into something less bearable. “Fuck. This is stupid. What the hell am I even doing?”
He dropped the piece of paper, almost knocking over the several bottles of medication as he tried to get the pills for a migraine. After successfully swallowing two pills, he stumbled back to bed and shut his eyes.
That absurd ‘Return and Exchange’ service probably wasn’t even real in the first place and he was probably hallucinating the words due to all the medication they had him on. At the end of the day, Steve wouldn’t trade, return, most of what happened for anything. What he had now was worth so much more than the things he had back then. His life may have declined sharply since ‘84, but he still felt like he had a purpose— or at least he thought he did. After all, he managed to get Dustin and Erica out of the bunker before shit hit the fan— he managed to mostly protect Robin from getting beaten within an inch of her life. That was something, right? It had to be.
He could keep the people he loved safe and sound for as long as he was around. And he planned to stick for a long time whether they liked it or not.
Steve didn’t think of paper of the service it provided ever again, deciding that it was probably bullshit anyway and that he wouldn’t call it just to pawn off some items.
Frankly, he didn’t know whose fault it was.
It had been a close-call— for all three of them— because they weren’t in great shape to begin with. Steve lacked focus, Jonathan seemed more clumsy than usual and Nancy’s orders were a little messy. Maybe it had been a mistake, to send the three of them specifically out on patrol, when the other on-field members seemed ready to sub-in. Lucas geared up as always and even El looking expectantly between Nancy and Hopper— but Steve and Nancy were stubborn. Nancy, 99.9% of the time, was on the field. Be it a patrol squad or their usual crawl endeavors so she always insisted on coming even if she looked like she was ready to drop dead. Her resilience was admirable and she never once let her exhaustion or dread show whenever they were out there. She was their captain for a reason, their squad leader.
Steve, on the other hand, had a much different reason for choosing to be out there. He could take hits— was probably the second person in their ragtag group to have taken the most hits, only second to El— and, sure, he came up with good strategies every once in a while, but other than that, he had nothing. The only thing he could offer was his experience and endurance. And yet they made him co-captain, second in command to Nancy. He didn’t have as much say as either Hopper or Nancy, but everyone trusted his field experience. Which was why he called most of the shots during a patrol or a crawl and if anyone doubted him, Nancy would shut them down immediately.
(Sometimes, Steve wondered how his ‘83 and ‘84 self would react if he found out that in the near future, he and Nancy Wheeler would stand side by side, not as lovers, but as life-long partners fighting to protect the goddamn world.)
Jonathan’s pained grunt snapped him back to reality.
“Shit, that thing did a number on you,” Nancy murmured as she wrapped Jonathan’s arm. But there was no mistaking the slight shake to her fingers. She turned to Steve, eyes glassy and vulnerable in a way that he hasn’t seen in a long time. “Can you please—”
He handed her the bandages and firmly held her hand that wasn’t on Jonathan. “It wasn’t your fault, Nance. You know that.”
Nancy looked straight at him, her voice no more than a mere whisper. “I was too slow to make a judgement, Steve. If I just said something earlier, he wouldn’t— he wouldn’t have—”
“Nance,” he said, just as quietly, “it’s not your fault. I promise you. Don’t put it all on yourself.”
He knew Nancy didn’t fully believe him, evident by the way she wordlessly returned to treating Jonathan’s gash. But she didn’t need some pep-talk or reassurances from him— what she needed right now was to make sure Jonathan would live to see another day. One of them getting hurt wasn’t out of the ordinary, it was natural to get a bunch of scratches but this was the first time it happened because both Nancy and Steve were too slow. It’s not your fault because I didn’t move fast enough. It may have just been a gash, but Jonathan barely took hits— because that was Steve’s job.
He left the room, or at least the makeshift medbay area they created, to go back up to studio area of the Squawk. Fingers itching to dig into his palm at the prospect of Hopper grilling him and him alone. At least he was saving Nancy and Jonathan from such a terrible fate.
When Steve emerged, the first person to greet him— slam— into him was Robin.
“You worried me,” she pulled him into a hug, “worried us when you went quiet. Dustin was so close to running into the forest himself.”
Steve imagined it for a moment as he hugged Robin back, Dustin in their patrol gear, a gun and knife on his person.
(Dustin in the garb they got from the War Zone— c’mon Steve, think of it like armor. A spear and shield in hand— for my protection! You and Eddie won’t be around all the time. Dustin who was paired up with Eddie— dude, it makes the most sense. The same Dustin that held a dying Eddie in his arms, the garb that he deemed as his armor bloodied and torn— Steve, help! Eddie, hang on, Eddie please!)
Steve detached himself from the hug, pushing the memory away with a shake of his head. “Thank god you run comms with him then. Will alone can’t stop him from running off on his own.” Robin smiled, and Steve felt his heart warm up. Anything to wipe that worried look of her face. “Where’s Hop?”
“Right up front, with the whole crew and all. I think their presence might lessen his wrath a little.”
No it didn’t, Steve would soon find out when Hopper had stood up and gave him and everyone else in that room a piece of his mind. He thought that maybe El and Joyce’s company would loosen him up, but if anything, he was meaner— because he was scared. They could’ve easily lost one of their lives this time around, Steve knew that very well. He’s been aware of the risks since ‘84, knew what he was getting himself into when he offered to join the on-field squad.
Steve may have been able to beat the living shit out of the demodog, but he was still late. Jonathan still got hurt. Nancy still beat herself up for not yelling at them to split up. They weren’t the dream team that was supposed to go out tonight, but he and Nancy had insisted. Now, they paid the price.
One by one, they had scattered after the lecture was over. Joyce driving the whole Byers-Hopper brigade (minus Hopper himself) because Jonathan was out of commission— Will had approached Steve before he got into the car. I fully trust you, Steve. All of us do. Whether the kid said that because he didn’t want Steve to feel like a piece of shit for getting his brother injured or to alleviate the hurt that came from Hopper’s words— and you, Harrington, you’re always getting yourself in situations!— he wasn't sure.
But Steve appreciated it. He really did— and he showed that by ruffling Will’s hair.
Dustin, Lucas and Mike were with Nancy for the night. At first, Steve was hesitant to let her drive given the events from patrol after all. He almost wanted to send all four of them home himself but then realized how ridiculous that was, so instead of acting on it and voicing his countless concerns, he caught up to Nancy.
“Drive safe, alright? Radio in, when you and Mike reach home.”
Nancy stared at him— really looked at him. “Alright.” Then she looked towards her car, Steve following her line of sight. Mike, Dustin and Lucas stared back at them before scrambling away from the window. “Thank you. For taking the brunt of the lecture. Jonathan says his thanks too— wants to be partnered with you for the next few patrols to return the favor.”
Steve found himself laughing at that— and maybe at how Mike accidentally shoved his elbow into Dustin’s jaw. “Sure, I’ll let him have it. Can’t deny a guy like that if I’m being honest.”
Nancy rolled her eyes, moving to leave. Right before she got in the car, she called out. “See you tomorrow, Steve.”
Steve saluted her. “See you tomorrow, captain.”
After he watched the two cars left Squawk’s area safely, Steve lit a cigarette.
Robin would kill him if she found out, has even verbally admitted it many times, but he seriously needed this. Has needed a cigarette for months now, but in honor of his promise to Robin, he opted for inhaling second-hand smoke from Joyce or Hopper or even Jonathan sometimes.
(His thoughts shifted to Eddie, just for the briefest moment. The older’s permanent scent of cigarettes and musky cologne.)
“Figured you’d be out here,” Hopper’s voice startled him so bad that he almost slammed his whole body against the brick walls of the Squawk. Once the man noticed his tense posture, he sighed. “I didn’t mean to be so harsh on you, kid. But I have eyes, you know? All of us have been running ourselves into the ground, caught up with protecting El and trying to catch that Vecna thing, but you Steve, Jesus. What’s the point of burning yourself out entirely before you reach the end of that finish line?”
Steve focused on his breathing, on the nicotine that was giving him that familiar burn in the back of his throat.
“I know how badly you kids want this to work. You, Nancy and El especially. But it’s also you that they turn to, that they look up to. Even Nancy. You know what that means right, kid?”
Steve did know. Set an example, a good one for the rest of them. He knew they looked up to him— how could he not notice when Dustin’s eyes practically sparkled whenever they were together, when Lucas’s demeanor would change when he saw Steve walk into the room, when El looked at him like he was the hero that she believed he was. But sometimes he wished they didn’t. It’d be another role to play, to upkeep— still, he did it anyway. He nodded stiffly, putting his cigarette out.
He thought that Hopper was done, fuck, he’d start thanking god out loud if that was the case, but when the man opened his mouth again, Steve’s heart sank straight to his ass.
“Let Nancy and Jonathan know that I’m not letting them get off scot-free, alright? Take care of yourself, kid.”
Only for it to jump straight to his throat in relief. He waved Hopper off and said his goodbyes.
After making sure that Hopper safely left the premises too, Steve headed back into Squawk. He was actually kinda grateful that Hopper came out to talk to him— at least he had an excuse as to why he smelled like cigarettes without feeling too guilty about lying to Robin’s face. However, he’d have to think about the actual talk for a bit before he started believing it.
Just as expected, the moment he stepped back in and locked the doors, Robin scrunched her nose at him.
“Steve, you reek. Do not plan on coming near me or our room until you wash up.”
Steve had stuck his tongue out at her and headed to the washroom without a second thought.
The aftermath of losing his house left both him and Robin, funnily enough, homeless. Joyce had offered her own home to them the moment she found out, and while they crashed there for a couple of days— Steve soon realized that she already had enough to handle on her plate. Three kids and Hopper, not to mention the occasional kid or kids that would stay there too. Two more people under the roof to feed and care for? Steve would rather not burden her with that, and Robin quickly admitted that she shared the same sentiment. So, by day four, they had packed their things up (which wasn’t much to begin with) and opted for the Squawk as their new home-base. Of course, it was met with resistance from Joyce, but he and Robin had done a damn good job at convincing her.
It also helped that they both worked there, killing two birds with one stone kinda situation. It all, pun intended, worked out in the end. They’ve been living at the Squawk for almost two months now— more specifically, the area under the radio station that they turned into their living quarters. Their room basically. Which was made up of a pull-out sofa-bed (they had a rotation on who would take the couch half or the bed half), a bunch of bags that had their clothes, a desk and a bookshelf. It felt ridiculous for the first couple of days, especially the sleeping situation and the lack of a closet, but they pulled through in the end.
When he entered their shared room, Robin was already lying in the pull-out bed, a book in her hands.
“Did you check if everything’s locked up?” Steve asked as he changed shirts.
“Yeah, mom,” she dragged out the syllables, but her ‘yeah’ sounded reassuring as always. “Double checked the boobytraps too.”
It never hurt to be too careful, especially these days with so many eyes on them. If any of those annoying military people or random watchers found out that there were people living in Squawk, it’d end badly for their whole team of operations because they’ll figure out the whole area under the radio station itself. Hence… the two of them boobytrapping the place, with the help of the rest of the Party.
“You sure you don’t want the bed?” Robin put her book down once Steve jumped onto the couch half— to which she didn’t even complain about for once. “Might be better for your comfort, y’know, with how banged up you are.”
Steve snorted. “I’ve had worse. Take the bed, Buckley. Let me be a gentleman.”
Robin pinched his arm that was dangling next to her. “Don’t complain to me if you wake up irritated.”
Her tone was light— fond, if anything. He knew that she’d listen regardless if he complained about the ache in his body and that she’d patch him up a million times over if she needed to. What are soulmates for, am I right? She had told him when he was nursing one of the worst migraines in his goddamn life— she had stayed with him the entire time, making sure he took his medication and that he rested properly.
“G’night, Rob. Love you,” he muttered as he closed his eyes, letting his exhaustion lull him into sleep.
Robin put her hand in his hair, gently scratching at his scalp with her nails. “Love you too, dingus.”
Getting him discharged from the hospital was a mistake. If he were in the hospital, at least he could look over Max and still make sure that she was still here. If he were to leave, then who would look after her? The others had their own shit going on— if he stayed there, he had every right to—
Hopper dropped him off at his house after the doctors gave him the green-light. Hopper also reprimanded him about taking his medication and making sure that his bandages were changed often— and to radio in if he needed help. Steve had thanked the man, locked the front door, took in the silence of the house, stared at the dust gathering on the furniture due to his absence and considered screaming his head off.
One day, he couldn’t deal with it anymore and called Jonathan in desperation.
Jonathan gave Steve his entire stash when he dropped by. Probably out of concern, with how desperately Steve had been begging, I just— just need a distraction. Can we smoke some? Please? It was pathetic, but he didn’t have it in him to care anymore. Not when Jonathan took one look at him, went outside for a second, came back in and handed him his box. Steve almost dropped to his knees in relief.
In the end, he didn’t even touch the weed. It could be a backup, if getting blackout drunk didn’t work out. Was it a good idea? Obviously, no. Steve has never been known for his bright ideas.
But it was his idea, to make sure everyone stuck together after everything, just in case any new gates popped up. Dustin slept over at the Byers-Hopper residence more often than not, since he didn’t live near anywhere near the others. It was important that all of them had at least one other Party member with them most of the time. Just to be safe. Just to be—
Why should any of it fucking matter? Max was in a coma, for fuck’s sake. All of them had scars, physically or mentally at this point regardless of the countermeasures he took. Eddie was fucking dead.
Steve wanted to be alone.
He’d been the last one to get discharged from the hospital and apparently, he could’ve died if they left his wounds untreated for any longer. They were infected when the doctors checked him over and he had lost a good amount of blood with all his flailing around. Running, fighting, getting slammed around by tentacles, trying to carry Eddie—
Steve just wanted to be alone.
Robin insisted on coming over earlier on in the day, but he denied her as nicely as he could. But the bitterness in his veins, the guilt in his gut and the urge to scream his fucking head off probably made his words come across not as nicely as he wanted them to. It didn’t matter, at least not at that moment. Steve could always apologize later— could always blame it on a migraine he didn’t see coming, even if Robin knew whenever he was lying. She’s too nice to him. She… loved him too much.
Steve did too— loved her more than life itself sometimes. It didn’t mean that he deserved it though. Has he ever deserved anything?
He laid on the floor of his room, staring at the ceiling. When did his life get so shitty? When did it all start going to shit? Was it when he stepped into the Byers’ house the first time around? Was it when he threw that stupid party?
Or was it when his parents decided that he wasn’t even worth their attention all those years ago?
(In reality, he knew he wouldn’t change a thing. Even being underserving of his parents’ affection— he learned early on in his life that they never had him out of love. That was something that could never be changed.)
Steve wanted to get drunker. Was it possible to do that without dying? He just wanted to forget. He didn’t want to remember any of it anymore. He wanted to sleep normally instead of being so jumpy all the time. He wanted Robin to stop being scared of doctors. He wanted Nancy to stop being tense all the time. He wanted Jonathan to stop being so paranoid. He wanted the kids to be kids. He wanted Dustin to stop pushing him away. He wanted Max to wake up.
He wanted Eddie to be alive.
“Fuck,” a sob escaped his throat, “fuck, fuck, fuck!”
Steve couldn’t— he just fucking couldn’t do any of this shit anymore.
He didn’t know how long he laid there, trying to focus on his ceiling even as tears kept falling from his eyes, even as he struggled with breathing. But eventually, he tried to get up to get to his bed— he had to drive Lucas to the hospital tomorrow to see Max but he’ll have the worst hangover known to man by the time he woke up and his eyes would be swollen. Good going, Harrington, he hissed in his mind, you’re always so selfish.
Just when he managed to push himself up from the floor, he noticed a paper slip next to him.
Steve reached out to grab it— crumpled it in his fist, ready to discard it in the trash. Something in him told him to look at anyway. So he did, forcing himself to focus all his attention on trying to read the words on the paper.
‘Return and Exchange,’ he flipped the paper around, ‘call us now to feel happiness again!’
“Load of bullshit.” Steve slurred, throwing the paper somewhere in his room and crawled to his bed— knocking over the empty bottle of vodka he chugged. “Always a load of bullshit.”
For the first time since Robin came into his life, he peacefully slept alone.