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The group stood in silence, the weight of Nancy's words hanging around them like a fog. Steve shuddered at the mention of Holly, screaming for dear life, suspended in the air. They had been so close. Feet away. They were minutes too late. Dustin stood right at his side, so close their arms were touching. He hadn’t let Steve more than five feet away from him since the incident on the stairwell, and Steve was starting to think he’d borderline traumatized the kid. As if Dustin didn’t have enough trauma already.
“Hey,” Robin finally spoke up, breaking the silence, "I know this, like, totally sucks, but it’s not all bad news. There's something, or, um, someone you should know about.” Steve found his eyes drifting to Jonathan, who was staring right back at him, a moment of shared worry held like a string between them.
“What is it?” Nancy asked, voice tense and strained. Lucas and Robin shared a look.
“It’s probably better to just show you.”
The group migrated to the gate, and began the slow process of getting everyone through one by one. Steve hung back, grabbing Robin’s arm.
“Hey, Rob,” He said softly, “You okay? What happened?” His eyes had caught on the worsening bruise on her cheekbone. She nodded, looking him up and down, worries of her own plain on her face.
“A minor truck crash and a far too close encounter with the demodogs,” Robin sighed shakily, “But I’m good. It’s just a bruise.” Her hand softly brushed against the small, bloody x on his cheek, left from the rubix cube Dustin had thrown at him. Her eyes hardened, cocking an eyebrow in a silent question. These days, they barely had to talk to understand each other. Steve felt his chest clench at the reminder of their fight. How he’d let his anger get the best of him, going beyond too far. How he dragged himself away to sob somewhere private afterwards. He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head, a silent answer. I’ll tell you about it later. Robin pulled him in for a hug.
Steve had never been particularly good with words. It was times like those when he didn’t know what he would do without her. Because the idea of repeating his own words out loud made bile rise in the back of his throat, and the lingering feeling of Dustin’s fist connecting with his jaw made his head spin. But it didn’t matter, because there was Robin. Robin, who always knew what he was trying to say, even when he stumbled over his words and didn’t make any sense. Even when all he could do was shake his head, she knew what he was trying to say. And all Steve could do was hug her back as tight as he could. They’re okay. They’re both okay.
Robin pulled away from him, but kept a hand on his shoulder.
“Come on, Dingus,” She said, giving him a weary smile, “Trust me, you’re really going to want to see this.” Steve nodded, and let her lead him forwards to rejoin the group.
He let her go through first. As much as Dustin seemed to resent it, some self-sacrificial tendencies were too hard to shake. Steve didn’t go last though, like he usually would. Once it was just him, Jonathan, Nancy, and Hopper, he began to tear through the rubbery ligament of the Upside Down. Maybe some things he could work on. Maybe he could take the self sacrifice down just a few notches.
Steve pulled himself through the gate, jerking his upper body up to adjust to the change in gravity. God, he was never gonna get used to that. He laid on the grass for a second, breathing in clean, fresh air and staring at the sky. Then he saw it. A wheelchair, about 30 feet away. Time slowed down to a crawl. Vickie was standing next to it. Dustin was hugging the person sitting in it, while Lucas stood next to him, crying. Dustin shifted. Steve caught a glimpse of red hair. His heart stopped, just for a moment.
“No.” The word escaped from him involuntarily, just barely louder than a whisper, but Dustin heard. He flung around to look at Steve, eyes brimming with tears. As he fully turned, Steve saw her. Max Mayfield. Looking at him. Making eye contact with him. Alive. Completely, 100% alive and conscious. She weekly raised a couple fingers in his direction, waving, and gave him a sheepish smile. A smile he thought he would never see again.
Steve shoved himself off the ground, body moving before his brain did. He was there in an instant, kneeling next to her, hands on her shoulders.
“Holy shit,” he laughed, feeling the bite of tears start to accumulate in corners of his eyes, “Max.” She giggled lightly, like she was 13 years old again.
“Hi, Steve." He pulled her into a gentle hug, one hand cupping the back of her head and guiding her to his shoulder.
“You know, I never thought it was possible,” Max whispered, emotion thick in her voice, “but I actually kind of missed you, Harrington.” Steve scoffed, pulling her away from the hug.
“Well, I never thought I'd miss you giving me shit,” Steve said softly, “but I don’t think I want you to stop making fun of me ever again." Max laughed, like actually laughed, making Steve's heart skip a few beats.
“You don't have to tell me twice,” she responded, voice so snarky and so alive, “When did you become a softie, Steve?" He shrugged, standing up.
“Probably around the time my younger sibling stand-ins started doing things like falling into 18-month long comas. I'd say that’s about when.” Max looked up at him, taken aback. Her blue eyes caught in the sunlight as they began to well with tears. She opened her mouth, closed it again. Smiled.
“Yeah. I guess that would do it.” She breathed. Steve reached over and tussled her hair, before stepping back to let Dustin, Mike, El, and Lucas swarm her once more. Nancy made her way through the gate, and promptly broke into a sprint straight at Max, shoving Mike aside to get in a proper hug.
Steve stood a couple feet away, watching. Watching those kids act like kids again, crying and laughing and catching each other up on everything they’d missed. Their group was complete again. Max was so animated; her face had color to it under the late afternoon light that it never did in that shitty hospital room where Steve had spent so many nights. He hadn’t even noticed he was crying until Robin walked up next to him, bumping him gently with her shoulder.
“I knew this would cheer you up.” Steve huffed in response, unable to form the words to describe the influx of emotion he was feeling. Robin understood what he meant. She laid her head on his shoulder, and they watched. They watched as the sallow tone that had pervaded Max’s skin for the past 18 months lifted, perhaps not from being awake, but rather from being with her friends.
After a few minutes, Dustin looked up, just for a moment, to catch Steve’s eye and smile. Suddenly, Steve felt like he was coming up for air, like he had broken the surface. A weight lifted off his shoulders. That wide, toothy smile that hadn’t been directed at him in far too long made something in him click open, something that he’d locked away, far from prying eyes. Hope. Hope that maybe, just maybe, things could be okay again. He sighed, fully taking in the minor miracle that was Max Mayfield. Maybe it didn’t matter how badly he fucked up. Maybe some things are too strong to be broken. Hell, the proof was there, sitting right in front of him in a wheelchair. He grabbed Robin’s hand.
It was going to be okay. It was all going to be okay.