Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The Harrington household had always felt off. At least, that’s how Steve had come to see it. He grew up under the weight of expectations he couldn’t meet — perfect grades, flawless manners, a stellar reputation. But by the time he hit high school, he learned to play the part. Hair immaculate, smile charming, and ego carefully polished, he became the king of Hawkins High.

Yet none of that mattered at home. Not when he was surrounded by them.

Mickey and Kurt, his identical brothers, couldn’t have been more different from each other — or from him.

Mickey, who insisted that everyone should call him Keys, was all brain, no bite. He was a genius and managed to skip enough grades to land himself in college despite being the same age as Steve. Keys was quiet, awkward, and obsessed with his tech projects, he spent most of his time hunched over a computer or soldering circuits in the basement. When he wasn’t tinkering with something incomprehensible, he barely existed. Conversations with him were rare, stilted affairs, and Steve was always the one doing the heavy lifting. Still, Keys’ silence wasn’t malicious—just… detached. He didn’t mean to make Steve feel like he wasn’t important, but the absence of any real connection stung all the same.

Then there was Kurt.

Kurt was… something else entirely. Cold, withdrawn, and entirely self-contained. He didn’t have Keys’ quiet kindness or Steve’s need for approval. Kurt didn’t need anyone. He barely spoke to anyone in the house and, when he did, it was always brief, always purposeful, and always with that sharp edge that made it feel like he’d rather be anywhere else. Steve didn’t know what Kurt did with his time. He didn’t want to know. But there was an aura around him — something dark and unsettling. It made Steve’s skin crawl. Still, he liked Kurt in his own way, even if he couldn’t figure him out.

For a while, he tried to rationalize it. Perhaps Kurt just liked his privacy. Maybe he just didn’t know how to connect with people. But then there were the times when Kurt would leave for days without saying a word. And when he’d come back? The vague smell of cigarettes and something acrid clung to him, odd. Steve had stopped asking questions after the third time that Kurt had brushed him off with a, “Don’t worry about it.”

It was easier that way, even if Steve was worried that Kurt may be struggling.

The party at Steve’s house started out normal enough, despite the shadow hanging over Hawkins. The Byers boy was missing, and yet the teens carried on like nothing was wrong. Carol and Tommy were their usual loud selves, cracking crude jokes and slamming back beers as if there were trophies at stake. Nancy arrived late with Barb in tow, and Steve couldn’t help but grin when she smiled at him at the door. The King of Hawkins High was always happiest when his Queen was around.

Barb, on the other hand, looked out of place from the moment she stepped inside. She hovered awkwardly behind the rest of the teens, arms crossed, glancing nervously at the trio. Steve had barely noticed her, too busy trying to charm Nancy with his laid-back humour and effortless charm, the same routine he always relied on. To him, it was just another party — another night in the endless cycle of high school antics. That’s what it was supposed to be.

The night unfolded like a checklist of teenage recklessness: shot gunning beers with a knife, egging Barb on to join in, showing her to the bathroom when she sliced her hand open with said knife. Steve even tackled Nancy into the pool fully-clothed, both of them laughing as they splashed around in the cold water. Just dumb, impulsive teenage fun.

When he and Nancy headed upstairs to dry off, leaving Barb alone by the pool, Steve didn’t think twice about it. He was too focused on Nancy, too caught up in the moment, too much of an asshole, too much of a stupid, horny teenager, like usual.

The cafeteria hums with its usual chaos—trays clattering, conversations overlapping, laughter cracking like static in the air. At their usual table, Steve leans back in his chair, one arm draped over the backrest, while Nancy picks at her lunch. Across from them, Tommy and Carol trade smirks like it’s a competitive sport.

“Hey,” Nancy says, her voice cutting through their chatter. “Did either of you see where Barb went after the party?”

Tommy squints, tilting his head as if she’s speaking a foreign language. “Barb?” he repeats, glancing at Carol for confirmation. “Who the hell is Barb?”

Carol snorts, shaking her head. “Was she the one with the grandma glasses?” Her lips curl into a mean little smile. “I don’t know, maybe she crawled back to the library or something.”

“Knock it off,” Steve says, his voice low but sharp. The smile slips from Carol's face. “Just answer the question.”

Tommy shrugs, popping a fry into his mouth.“No clue, dude. Last I saw, she was sulking by the pool.” He flicks a glance at Carol, and just like that, they slide back into their routine—giggling under their breath, leaning into each other like the world revolves around their jokes.

A sudden thud breaks through the noise as someone jumps onto a table a few rows over. Heads turn, conversations stall. And there he is—Table Boy, arms wide, voice loud, soaking in the attention like he was born for it.

“Ladies, gentlemen, and all you sheep—lend me your ears! I promise this'll be more fun than whatever soul-sucking conformity you're used to!” His voice rings out, dripping with mockery.

“Jesus,” Tommy mutters, rolling his eyes. “Someone needs to knock him down a peg.”

Carol leans in, syrupy sweet. “You gonna do it?” She bats her lashes in mock admiration.

“Hell yeah,” Tommy says, pushing back his chair, already halfway to his feet.

Before he can stand, Steve's hand shoots out, gripping his arm and yanking him back down. “Sit down,” he says, not even bothering to look at him. “You're such a nutcase, man.”

His eyes are locked on the guy on the table.

The older boy paces the length of the table, arms behind his back like he’s conducting a lecture. “See, every day, you line up—same clothes, same gossip, same mindless drivel. And for what? To blend in? To make sure nobody thinks you’re weird?” He pivots, flashing a toothy grin at Steve's table. “To impress King Steve and his kingdom of perfectly feathered followers?”

Tommy bristles, his mouth twisting into a sneer, before sending a judging look at Steve. “What? You scared of Munson now?” But he stays seated, dragging his tray closer with a sulk.

Munson. Definitely a better name than ‘Table Boy.’

“Seriously,” Munson continues, now at the edge of the table, leaning forward as if letting everyone in on a secret. “I don’t know what’s more impressive—the iron grip of social hierarchy in this place or the amount of hairspray it takes to keep that thing in place.” He points to his buzzed hair as his eyes flick to Steve, lingering just a second too long. “If only the rest of us could aspire to such greatness. But, hey, not all of us can peak in high school.”

Steve rolls his eyes and pokes at his food, pretending the words don’t stick. They shouldn’t. Munson was a joke—everyone knew that. And yet, there’s a weird twist low in his chest, something like interest, something he refuses to name. He pushes the feeling aside and focuses instead on figuring out what the hell the cafeteria slop is supposed to be.

Across the table, Carol shrieks as Tommy drops his shoe onto her tray. “Ugh, you idiot!” She shoves his shoulder, but he just laughs, not bothering to pick it up.

Without a word, Steve slides his own tray toward her, swapping their lunches. Carol blinks in surprise but doesn’t say thank you.

Munson, meanwhile, presses a hand to his heart in mock reverence. “Well, behold! A freak in his natural habitat—unapologetically ruining the status quo, one lunch period at a time!” His voice is playful, but his gaze sharpens when it lands back on Steve. “And trust me, it’s a hell of a lot more fun up here.”

Nancy watches all of this with a distant expression, her eyes drifting toward the cafeteria doorway. Jonathan stands there, lingering just long enough to catch her gaze before turning and walking off. She doesn’t realize she’s been staring until Steve shifts beside her. If he notices, he doesn’t let on.

“So,” Munson finishes, spreading his arms wide like he’s delivering a benediction, “you can keep your little boxes and your labels—or, if you’ve got the guts, you can climb out of them. Your call.” He sweeps into a dramatic bow. “From yours truly—XOXO, Eddie 'The Freak' Munson.”

With that, he hops down, grabbing his lunch like nothing happened. His younger friends cheer for him, loud and unbothered, the way Steve's teammates would after a winning play.

At Steve’s table, the laughter has died down. He doesn’t join back in. He just watches.

Eddie Munson.

What a strange dude.

Turns out there was a creep watching the party.

Steve wouldn’t have known if Nicole hadn’t come sprinting up to them during lunch, out of breath and flustered. She explained, between gasps, that she’d walked past the darkroom and caught Jonathan Byers developing photos—photos of Nancy. Inappropriate ones.

Steve felt his blood boil. There was no way he’d let someone do that to Nancy, not with everything else she was already going through. She didn’t need a stalker added to the mix.

So now, here he was, sitting on the boot of Tommy’s car, arms crossed, jaw tight, as he, Tommy, Carol, and Nicole waited for Jonathan to leave school. The others laughed and whispered among themselves, clearly treating this like some big joke. But Steve wasn’t laughing. He kept his eyes locked on the doors, waiting for Jonathan to come out.

When he finally did, Steve hopped off the car, landing with a thud. “Hey, man,” he called out casually, stepping forward as Jonathan tried and failed to walk past them to get to his car.

Jonathan froze in place, his body stiff. “What’s going on?” he asked, his voice quiet but edged with nervousness. He took a cautious step back, and Steve couldn’t help but find it a little amusing.

“Nicole here was telling us all about your little… hobby,” Steve said, motioning to Nicole, who stepped closer with a smug smile.

“We’ve heard great things,” Carol added, leaning lazily against Tommy, her tone dripping with mockery.

“Yeah, super cool,” Tommy chimed in, his sarcasm obvious.

Steve smirked, his expression cold and sharp. “And we were just thinking, as connoisseurs of art , that we’d love to have a look. You know, appreciate the craft.”

Jonathan sighed, already frustrated. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He tried to step around them, but Tommy quickly blocked his path, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

“Oh, no? You don’t know?” Steve said, tilting his head as if he were disappointed.

“Hey!” Jonathan shouted when Steve snatched his bag. “Give me that back!”

“Relax,” Tommy teased, grabbing the bag from Steve and tossing it to him like they were playing a game of keep-away.

“Man, he’s totally trembling,” Tommy laughed, watching Jonathan struggle to keep up. “He must have something to hide.”

Steve ignored him, rifling through the bag until he found what he was looking for. “Ah, here we go,” he muttered, pulling out a stack of photos.

He flipped through them: pictures from the party. Nancy by the pool. Nancy getting undressed. Him and Nancy together. The knot in his stomach tightened as he stared at the incriminating images.

“Oh, man…” Steve huffed, his voice tight with disbelief.

“Let me see!” Tommy leaned over Steve’s shoulder, his eyes widening as he got a glimpse. “Dude!”

“Totally normal behaviour,” Carol snarked, snatching a photo and holding it up for Nicole to see. “Not creepy at all.”

Jonathan tried to defend himself, his voice barely audible. “I was looking for my brother.”

Steve turned to him sharply. “No. No, this is called stalking.”

Before anyone could say more, Nancy walked up to the group, her backpack slung over one shoulder, clearly confused by the commotion. “What’s going on?” she asked, glancing between them.

“Speak of the devil!” Tommy exclaimed, laughing as he pointed at her.

“Here’s the star of the show,” Carol added with a wicked grin, holding up one of the pictures.

Nancy’s expression fell as she walked closer. “What is that?”

“This creep was spying on us last night,” Carol explained, handing Nancy the photo of her undressing. “He was probably gonna save this one for later.”

Nancy stared at the photo in disbelief, her face pale as she realized what it was. Jonathan, meanwhile, stared at the ground, his shoulders slumped in shame.

“See?” Steve said, his tone cold and cutting. “You can tell he knows it’s wrong, but that’s the thing about perverts…” He clicked his tongue and stepped closer to Jonathan, rolling up the photos. “It’s hardwired into them. They just can’t help themselves.”

Steve leaned in, brushing at the shoulder of Jonathan’s jacket like he was picking lint off him. Then, with a sharp tug, he ripped the photos in half.

Tommy laughed, grabbing a handful of the torn pieces and throwing them in the air like confetti. “Whoo! Party time!”

Jonathan clenched his fists, his jaw tight, but he didn’t say anything.

“And now,” Steve announced, turning back to Jonathan’s bag, “we’re gonna have to take away your little toy.”

“No, please!” Jonathan pleaded, rushing forward, but Tommy shoved him back effortlessly.

“Wait, wait,” Steve said, holding up a hand to stop Tommy. He picked up Jonathan’s camera, inspecting it for a moment. Then he held it out to Jonathan, as if he was going to give it back.

Jonathan hesitated, reaching for it.

And that’s when Steve let go.

The camera hit the ground with a loud crack , the lens shattering on impact.

“Oh, whoops,” Steve said flatly, not even bothering to hide the smirk on his face.

Jonathan stared at the broken camera, his face a mixture of anger and devastation.

“Come on,” Steve said, turning to his friends. “The game’s about to start.”

Tommy, Carol, and Nicole followed him, laughing and taunting Jonathan as they walked away. Steve didn’t look back. But when he noticed Nancy wasn’t with them, he stopped.

She was still standing there. With Jonathan.

Steve clenched his jaw but didn’t say anything. He just kept walking.

Steve’s guilt over Barb’s disappearance gnawed at him as the days dragged on. He couldn’t shake it. Nancy’s worried face was etched into his mind, haunting him every time he closed his eyes. Even Tommy’s usual ridiculous jokes — normally enough to distract him from just about anything — didn’t work this time. The whispers about Will Byers were everywhere, now that they apparently found his body, and every time Steve overheard them, the knot in his stomach tightened. What if Barb had the same fate? It’s not like many people were looking for her.

He didn’t know what was happening, but something was wrong. Really wrong. And the worst part? There wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. What could he do that the police couldn’t? 

Steve tried to cheer Nancy up, to pull her out of whatever dark place her mind was stuck in, but nothing worked. Every attempt fell flat. If anything, she seemed to be avoiding him more and more. She was spending time with Jonathan instead, maybe bonding over their shared grief — the loss of people they cared about.

Well, they definitely bonded alright.

Steve just wanted to see Nancy, to talk to her, to fix… whatever was broken between them. Karen Wheeler didn’t like him much, so climbing up to Nancy’s window seemed like the easiest way to avoid her. He’d done it many times before.

But this time, when he reached the window, what he saw made his chest tighten, a cold fury flooding through him.

Fucking cheater.

Fucking cheater.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Steve chuckled dryly, shielding his eyes from the sun with one hand as he approached his friends.

Tommy was perched on a ladder, shaking a can of red spray paint with a mischievous grin plastered across his face. Below him, Carol held the ladder steady, smirking as if they were about to pull off the prank of the century. Nicole was standing next to her, watching the scene unfold.

“Only being the best friend in the world!” Tommy cackled, glancing down at Steve. His voice carried that familiar, reckless energy — the kind that usually meant bad ideas were about to become worse ones. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what was about to happen. He was going to vandalize the cinema marquee. Because what else said “loyalty” like public defamation in bright red letters?

Obviously, Steve had told Tommy and Carol what he saw as soon as he got back into the car. He’d barely finished explaining before Tommy slammed his fist on the dashboard, Carol fuming in the seat behind Steve. They were as pissed as he was — or at least pretending to be.

Steve shoved his hands in his pockets, his face hardening as he got closer. It was obvious Tommy, Carol, and Nicole had already been scheming. Which one of them even told Nicole? She wasn’t there.

“You got a certain message you want?” Nicole asked, her tone light but her expression sharp, “We’d just landed on a simple ‘Nancy is a cheating bitch,’ but hey, open to suggestions.” She shrugged, completely unbothered, like this was just another Friday.

Steve stood there for a moment, jaw tight. He loved Nancy. He really did. But he was allowed to be upset. Wasn’t he?

“Give me the can,” Steve said finally, his voice firm, “I know what to write.”

Tommy paused, raising an eyebrow, but he handed it over with a grin, “Your show, Harrington.”

The can felt lighter than Steve expected. Somehow, he thought it would carry more weight, the way guilt should. But guilt was a two-way street, and Nancy hadn’t exactly been burdened by it when she…

He shook the thought away.

Stepping up to the ladder, he didn’t hesitate. The hiss of the spray paint filled the silence as he scrawled the words across the marquee.

Nancy the slut.

It was simple. Cruel. But it said everything Steve felt at that moment — hurt, betrayal, anger.

As he stepped back to admire his work, Carol let out a low whistle. “Damn, Harrington. Didn’t think you had it in you.”

Steve didn’t respond. He couldn’t shake the feeling in his chest — like maybe the words he’d written weren’t as satisfying as he thought they’d be. But for now, it was enough.

Tommy, Nicole, and Carol disappeared down the alley next to the cinema, already scheming to vandalize more walls. Steve followed, his jaw tight, hands stuffed in his jean pockets. Tommy couldn’t stop cackling, shaking the spray paint can aggressively, his laughing was growing annoying if Steve had to be honest.

“Tommy, you write like a three-year-old,” Carol groaned, leaning against the wall as she watched him.

“Shut up!” Tommy whined, shaking the can with exaggerated frustration before spraying a sloppy red message on the brick.

“I didn’t even know you could spell,” Nicole chimed in, smirking as she watched him scrawl Byers is a perv in shaky red letters.

Steve barely paid attention, his mind clouded with everything that had happened. But it didn’t take long for the mood to shift. Nancy appeared at the end of the alley, her steps purposeful, her face pale with a mix of anger and disbelief.

“Aw, hey there, princess!” Carol taunted, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she watched Nancy’s eyes darting to the spray paint and the graffiti on the walls.

“Uh-oh, she looks upset,” Tommy mocked, grinning ear to ear.

Steve hadn’t even noticed her approach until Carol’s comment snapped him out of his haze. He turned to face Nancy just in time to see her hand swing. The slap landed hard, the sting sharp on his cheek, but he barely flinched.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” Nancy shouted, her voice shaking with fury.

“What’s wrong with me ? What’s wrong with you ?” Steve snapped back, his anger bubbling over, “I was worried about you! I can’t believe I was actually worried about you.” He scoffed, the bitterness clear in his tone, shaking his head.

Nancy blinked, her expression twisting between anger and confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“I wouldn’t lie if I were you,” Carol interjected, leaning closer with a cruel grin, “You don’t want to be known as the lying slut now, do you?”

Before Nancy could respond, Jonathan appeared at the mouth of alley just as Carol spat out her insult. His eyes narrowed, face creasing in confusion by the scene unfolding, but his confusion faded the moment is eyes locked onto the fresh graffiti behind Tommy, and his expression darkened.

“Speak of the devil,” Tommy sneered, hopping off the steps. He lit a cigarette and threw an arm around Carol’s shoulder casually, “Hi.”

“You came by last night?” Nancy asked, her voice quieter now, more of a quiet accusation than a question.

“Ding, ding, ding!” Carol said, waving her hand like she was ringing a bell. “Does she get a prize?”

Nancy turned back to Steve, her expression defensive, “Look, I don’t know what you think you saw, but it wasn’t like that!”

“What, you just let him into your room to… study?” Steve snapped, referencing their usual excuse to keep her parents off their backs. His voice was dripping with venom, the memory of it all cutting deeper than he expected.

“Or for another pervy photo session?” Tommy laughed, smoke curling from his lips.

“We were just—” Nancy started, but Steve cut her off.

“You were just what ? Finish that sentence. Go on, Nancy, finish it.”

She stopped, her gaze dropping. She didn’t say anything. She just sighed, looking past him, her expression resigned. Steve didn’t know what he was expecting her to say, but the silence cut deeper than anything else.

“Go to hell, Nancy,” he said, his voice low and cold, shaking his head as he turned away, his chest tight with frustration.

“Come on, Nancy, let’s just go,” Jonathan said softly, grabbing her arm to guide her away, finally stepping into the confrontation.

But Steve wasn’t done. His anger boiled over again, this time directed at Jonathan. “You know what, Byers? I’m actually kind of impressed.” He took a step toward him, his voice rising. “I always took you for a queer, but I guess you’re just a screw-up like your dad.”

Jonathan froze in place, his fists clenching at his sides.

“You know, I guess I shouldn’t really be surprised, Steve added, “A bunch of screw-ups in your family. I mean, your mum…”

“Jonathan, leave it,” Nancy said, noticing that Steve was getting to him.

“I’m not even surprised about what happened to your brother,” Steve continued, his voice dripping with cruelty, “I’m sorry that I have to be the one to tell you, but the Byers, their family, it’s a disgrace to the entire—”

“Steve, shut up !” Nancy shouted, about to step between them. But it was too late.

Jonathan snapped. He swung before anyone could stop him, his fist colliding with Steve’s face. The punch sent Steve stumbling back, hitting the side of the building. For a moment, there was silence, everyone too stunned to move.

For a second, it seemed like it might end there. But if there was anything you needed to know about Steve Harrington, it was that he wasn’t one to back down from a fight. He lunged, tackling Jonathan to the ground, fists flying, ignoring Nancy’s frantic pleas for them to stop.

“Yeah, get him, Harrington!” Tommy yelled, cheering Steve on like a kid at a wrestling match, “Kick his ass!”

Jonathan kicked him in the hip, successfully throwing Steve off, scrambling to his feet, only to swing again, this time catching Steve in the jaw. Steve threw a punch, landing it somewhere on Jonathan’s shoulder.

“Stop it! You’re going to hurt him!” Nancy yelled, but neither of them listened. Who she was talking too, Steve didn’t have a clue.

The two exchanged blows again. Steve ducked one punch, landing a hit on Jonathan’s temple, but Jonathan came back swinging harder.

“Get in there! He’s going to hurt himself!” Carol pleaded, shoving Tommy toward the fight.

Tommy hesitated, but finally stepped between them, trying to push Jonathan away from Steve, “Alright, easy! Easy!” But Steve wasn’t having it.

“Hey! Get out of here!” He said, pushing Tommy away, and dodging another punch from Jonathan before landing one of his own. Jonathan staggered, but he came right back, punching Steve square in the face.

Nancy kept screaming for them to stop, but neither boy listened. Jonathan managed to pin Steve to the ground, punching him over and over, his knuckles bloody.

It was more of a beat down than a fight at this point, Jonathan completely fuelled by rage ignoring the shouts from Tommy, Carol, and even Nancy, while Steve weakly pushed against the other boy’s chest. 

Then, in the distance, the sound of police sirens cut through the chaos.

“Cops! Shit, the cops are here!” Tommy yelled, throwing his cigarette to the ground, as Carol and Nicole bolted immediately, leaving Tommy lingering.

The cops arrived seconds later, pulling Jonathan off of Steve. One officer took an elbow to the nose in the process, but it didn’t stop them from restraining Jonathan.

Tommy took the opportunity of the Police being busy with Jonathan and grabbed Steve, hauling him off the ground like he weighed nothing. Steve stumbled to his feet, bloodied but too angry to care.

“Come on, man, let’s go!” Tommy hissed, gently pushing Steve to try to get it through the other’s probably concussed head.

They ran, neither of them daring to look back. Behind them, the alley echoed with police commands and Nancy’s frantic voice. Steve didn’t stop until the sirens faded in the distance.

Maybe a night in a cell would cool Jonathan down.

Steve sat on the boot of his car, staring into nothing, tongue prodding at a loose tooth. He couldn’t tell if it was from the fight or something else. The dried blood around his mouth and eye cracked uncomfortably every time he moved his face too much. Carol leaned against the car next to him, half-watching, half-checking her nails.

“Hey,” Tommy called, emerging from the supermarket with a Coke and a bottle of aspirin. He tossed them to Steve with his usual ease and smirked, “You owe me $1.20.”

Steve caught them without looking up, shook out a few pills — probably too many — and dry-swallowed them before pressing the cold Coke to his forehead.

“Don’t worry,” Tommy said, his tone oddly soft despite the sharp edge underneath, “He’ll need more than aspirin when we’re done with him.” His smile wasn’t his usual cocky smirk — it was kinder, almost casual. The kind of smile that might’ve made Steve crack a grin once, but now? It just made his head hurt more.

“Yeah, if the creep ever gets out,” Carol snickered, “The cops should just lock him up forever. Did you see the look on his face?” She started mimicking Jonathan’s angered expression, barely holding it together as she nudged Tommy with her elbow.

“He probably had that same look when he killed his brother,” Tommy added, his trademark laugh following like clockwork. That laugh — Steve used to find it contagious. Now it grated on his nerves now more than ever, sharp and irritating.

“Oh, my God,” Carol groaned, pretending to gag, “I just got an image of him making that face while he and Nancy are screwing. Gross.”

That did it.

Maybe it was the concussion. Maybe it was Nancy cheating on him. Maybe it was the way Carol always made a joke out of everything. Maybe it was the blood, the cracked tooth, the way everything hurt just a little too much. Maybe it was Tommy’s stupid laugh, or the way his freckles always caught the light when he tilted his head just so. Or maybe Steve was just fucking done.

“Carol, for once in your god-damn life, shut your mouth! ” Steve snapped, his voice cutting through their laughter like a whip.

Carol blinked, stunned, “What’s your problem?”

“Hey, what’s your deal, man?” Tommy asked, his smirk gone, replaced by something unreadable.

Steve’s gaze flicked between them, his disgust plain as day, “You’re both assholes. That’s my deal.”

Tommy’s laugh came back, but it was sharper now, almost hollow. “Are you serious right now?”

“Oh, I’m dead serious.” Steve jumped off the boot, shoving past Tommy, who grabbed his arm.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Tommy demanded, pulling him back.

Steve yanked his arm free, glaring, “You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

Tommy tilted his head, a faint smirk curling his lips as he stepped closer. His tone dropped low, just enough to make it hard to tell if he was amused or genuinely angry, “You mean calling them out for what they are? Oh, that’s funny, because I don’t remember you asking me to stop. In fact, I remember you calling your girlfriend a slut first.”

Steve’s jaw tightened, his gaze flicking briefly to Tommy’s mouth before snapping back up to his eyes, “I should’ve shoved that spray can down your throat when I had the chance.”

Carol finally seemed to catch up, her voice cutting in, “What the hell, Steve? Did you just tell me to shut up? Did you just call me an asshole?”

Steve didn’t even look at her. “Yeah, I did. Because you are. Neither of you ever cared about her. You never even liked her!” He pointed between them, his voice rising. “Because she’s not miserable like you two. She actually cares about people—”

“Oh, sure,” Carol cut him off, her voice dripping with venom, “The slut with a heart of gold! Give me a break.”

Steve’s face darkened, and before he realized it, he was pointing a finger right in her face, “I told you to watch your mouth!”

“Hey!” Tommy shouted, stepping between them and shoving Steve hard against the car, “You don’t talk to her like that!”

“Get out of my face,” Steve growled, shoving Tommy back.

Tommy didn’t budge. Instead, he stepped even closer, their faces just inches apart now. His voice dropped lower, taunting, “Or what? You gonna fight me, too? Because last I checked, you couldn’t even take Jonathan Byers. So I wouldn’t recommend it.”

Steve’s eyes flicked across Tommy’s face — his sharp jawline, the freckles scattered over his nose, the way his hair curled just slightly at the ends. It was almost enough to distract him. Almost.

He slapped Tommy’s hand away and turned to his car.

“Oh, yeah, sure,” Tommy sneered, grabbing the car door as Steve opened it, “Let me get that for you, buddy!” He slammed it shut as soon as Steve sat down, “That’s right! Run away, Stevie boy! Run away, just like you always do!”

Steve gritted his teeth, but didn’t look up.

“That Nancy’s turning you into a little pussy! ” Tommy yelled, leaning toward the car as Steve started the engine, “That’s right, Harrington! Run away!”

The tires squealed against the road as Steve peeled out of the lot, the sound of Tommy’s taunts fading into the distance.

But even as they disappeared, they stuck. Every word. Every laugh. Every crack in his teeth when he clenched his jaw too hard. Every subtle tilt of Tommy’s head that used to feel like everything but now felt like nothing.

Steve gripped the steering wheel tighter and kept driving.

Steve groaned as he threw himself onto the sofa, immediately regretting the impact. Every muscle in his body protested, and the throb in his head made him wonder if it was possible to feel worse .

“Have you seen Kurt?— Jesus Christ, you look like shit,” Keys remarked, coming up the basement stairs with a mug of coffee that looked as old as Steve’s wounds.

“Thanks. I feel it,” Steve muttered, wishing the sofa would swallow him whole.

“Gonna explain, or is this a ‘vault it’ situation?” Keys asked, one brow raised as he sipped his cold coffee.

“Vault it,” Steve sighed, “Until word spreads like wildfire anyway.”

Keys hummed knowingly before disappearing into the kitchen. A moment later, he returned with a bag of frozen peas and lobbed it at Steve’s head.

“Ow!” Steve whined, flinching. He blinked at the bag, realized what it was, and mumbled, “Oh. Thanks.” Pressing the peas to his forehead where the Coke had rested earlier, he winced at the sharp chill. After a pause, he hesitated, then said, “Hey, Mickey—”

“Keys,” Keys corrected instantly.

“Right,” Steve tutted, rolling his eyes, “How do you… How do you stop being an asshole?”

Keys froze mid-sip, his gaze narrowing, “Oh, Jesus Christ. What the hell did you do now?”

Steve looked anywhere but at Keys, his voice coming out like a reluctant confession. “Spray-painted insults about my girlfriend and her… uh… friend on the cinema.”

Keys’ face twisted in horror, “What the— Steve!”

“I cleaned it up!” Steve rushed to add, hands raised defensively, “You have no idea how hard it is to clean spray paint while trying not to fall off a ladder with a concussion!”

Keys groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose as he dropped onto the sofa beside Steve, “How are we related?”

“Well,” Steve quipped, a smirk tugging at his lips despite himself, “when a mummy and daddy love each other very much—”

He didn’t get to finish the joke. Keys slapped a hand over Steve’s mouth, careful not to aggravate the injuries.

“Stop. I don’t need my little brother explaining the birds and the bees to me.”

Steve pulled Keys’ hand off his face, glaring. “Don’t call me your little brother. You’re three minutes older than me. Three.”

“Still older,” Keys shot back smugly, “Anyway, back to the point: you obviously need to apologize.”

Steve blinked, “To… both of them? Really?”

“Yes, both of them! Is your skull just decoration? Because clearly, there’s nothing up there worth protecting,” Keys hissed, lowering his voice into a fierce whisper, “If you don’t apologize, I swear to God, I’ll drown you in the pool.”

Steve snorted despite himself. They both knew Keys wouldn’t follow through — partly because he wasn’t strong enough to, and partly because he just wouldn’t. Still, the thought of apologizing made Steve groan, dragging himself off the sofa. He grabbed his car keys from the side table with a sigh.

“Thanks, Keys. I… appreciate it.”

Keys didn’t respond immediately, but when Steve started for the door, he said softly, “Hey, Steve?”

Steve paused, glancing back.

“For what it’s worth, you’re still an idiot,” Keys said, a faint smirk tugging at his lips, “but at least you’re trying.”

Steve rolled his eyes but smiled despite himself, “Don’t get all mushy on me now.”

And with that, he was gone.

Chapter Text

Steve knocked on Jonathan’s front door, each impact sending a jolt of pain through his knuckles. They were still raw from their fight earlier, but he didn’t care. He just kept knocking, harder and harder, as if he would punch a hole through it just so Jonathan would listen to him.

“Jonathan! Are you there, man?” Steve called out, leaning closer to the door, “It’s… it’s Steve! Listen, I just want to talk!”

He paused, waiting for any kind of response. The silence gnawed at him. With a heavy sigh, he raised his fist and banged on the door again, louder this time. He didn’t even know if Jonathan was home, or Joyce; Steve hoped Joyce wasn’t in so he didn’t have to explain to her why he was there.

“C’mon, man!” he shouted, his voice cracking. “I’m not leaving until we talk!”

Finally, he heard the distinct sound of the lock turning. Relief swept over him — but when the door creaked open, it wasn’t Jonathan who appeared.

It was Nancy.

“Steve, listen to me,” she said firmly, her face barely visible through the narrow opening, “You need to leave.”

Steve blinked, startled, “I’m not trying to start anything, okay?” he said quickly, raising his hands as if surrendering.

“I don’t care about that,” Nancy snapped, her tone cold and clipped, “You need to leave.”

Steve shook his head, struggling to find the words. “No, no, no. Listen,” he stammered, his voice laced with desperation, “I messed up, okay? I know I messed up. I just… I just want to make things right.”

Nancy’s eyebrows knitted together, her expression unreadable.

“Okay? Please, please…” Steve pleaded, his voice softer now, but his words trailed off as something caught his attention. His gaze fell to her hand, wrapped in a bandage. Blood seeped through the fabric, the red stark against the white.

“Hey, what happened to your hand?” Steve asked, his concern overtaking his poor attempt of an apology, “Is that blood?”

Before Nancy could respond, Steve reached out instinctively, gently taking her wrist to get a better look.

“Steve, don’t—” Nancy began, but she yanked her hand back before he could inspect it further. “It’s nothing,” she said curtly, her voice tight, “It was an accident.”

Steve frowned. He’d heard that excuse too many times before — on himself, on friends. It was the kind of thing you said when you didn’t want people asking questions about bruises or cuts you couldn’t explain.

“Nancy,” he pressed, his voice firmer now, “What really happened? Did… did he do this to you?”

Nancy’s expression hardened, but she said nothing. Her silence was all the confirmation Steve needed. His anger flared. Without waiting for permission, he shoved the door open wider and stepped inside.

“Nancy, let me in!” he demanded, brushing past her.

“Steve, don’t!” Nancy protested, but it was too late.

As Steve stepped into the living room, he froze, his eyes widening at the scene before him.

The room was a chaotic nightmare. A baseball bat with nails hammered into it sat ominously on the table. Jonathan stood nearby, his own hand wrapped in a matching bandage. Strings of Christmas lights criss-crossed the room despite it still being November. The alphabet was painted across the wall in uneven black strokes of paint, and the sharp, acrid smell of petrol hung in the air.

“What is… what the fuck…” Steve stammered, his brain scrambling to make sense of it all, “Whoa, what is all this?”

“You need to get out of here,” Jonathan said sharply, his voice brimming with authority.

“What?” Steve said, turning to him in disbelief.

“I’m not asking you,” Jonathan snapped, stepping forward and grabbing the front of Steve’s shirt, “I’m telling you to leave!”

The two of them started shouting over each other, their voices overlapping in a chaotic mess. Jonathan tried to push Steve back toward the door, but Steve stood his ground.

“Steve, get out!” Nancy’s voice cut through the chaos, sharp and commanding.

Steve turned toward her — and froze.

Nancy was holding a gun.

His heart leapt into his throat.

When the fuck did Nancy get a gun? And why the fuck does she know how to use it?!

The boys instantly let go of each other, stepping apart as Nancy trained the weapon on Steve.

“Wait, what?! What is going on?!” Steve shouted, his voice rising in panic.

“You have five seconds to leave,” Nancy said, her voice steady but her hands trembling. Steve didn’t doubt for a second that she’d pull the trigger if he gave her a reason.

“Okay, is this a joke?” Steve asked, his voice breaking as he raised his hands, “Stop! Put the gun down!”

“I’m doing this for you,” Nancy muttered cryptically, her words only adding to Steve’s confusion.

Before he could respond, the lights overhead began flickering violently.

Jonathan and Nancy both froze, their faces going pale.

“What’s here…” Jonathan whispered, his voice barely audible, as he grabbed the spiked bat from the table.

Steve glanced between them, panic bubbling in his chest, “What’s here?!” he repeated, “Someone want to clue me in?!”

His question was answered when a deafening screech tore through the air. The ceiling above them cracked and began to rip open.

Steve staggered back as something began to crawl through the opening — a monstrous, humanoid creature with slimy skin and a head that split open like a grotesque flower, rows of jagged teeth lining its maw.

“What in the ever-loving fuck is that?!” Steve screamed, his voice raw with terror.

“Go! Go! Run!” Jonathan yelled, grabbing Nancy and guiding her down the hallway.

Steve remained frozen, staring at the creature in horror.

“Steve, move!” Jonathan shouted, his voice sharp and commanding as he grabbed Steve’s hand, dragging him down the hallway Nancy had just disappeared into. “Jump!” Jonathan barked. Steve barely registered the bear trap planted in the middle of the floor — it didn’t matter. He wasn’t about to ask questions, not with whatever the hell that thing was still in the living room. He leapt over it, his mind racing faster than his feet.

“Oh, my God! Oh, my God!” Steve shrieked, as he barrelled into the bedroom after Jonathan and Nancy, shutting the door behind him. He was clutching his chest like his heart might burst. “Jesus! Jesus! What the hell was that thing?” His words tumbled out in a frantic rush, his hands shaking as he pointed wildly toward the hallway behind them.

Steve had done his fair share of shouting over the years — at teachers when they handed him a grade he didn’t like, at his parents during their brief appearances to pack more clothes for yet another trip, at classmates he deemed beneath him, and at Keys when he somehow caused a power outage in their house. He’d yelled at basketball games, accusing the other team of cheating because he couldn’t admit he’d lost, and at Kurt for pulling stunts like hoarding all the water bottles in the house. But this? This wasn’t shouting born of frustration, arrogance, or even anger. This was raw, primal, unfiltered terror. Steve had never screamed like this before, because Steve had never felt like prey.

“Shut up!” Jonathan and Nancy snapped in unison, their voices eerily calm compared to his.

The monster let out a bone-chilling screech, its sound reverberating through the walls and rattling Steve’s already frayed nerves. Nancy raised her gun with trembling but determined hands, her finger hovering over the trigger. Beside her, Jonathan flicked the lighter to life, its tiny flame a stark contrast to the surrounding chaos. Steve stood frozen behind them, utterly useless, his mind blank as panic consumed him. He had no idea what to do — what could he do?

But then, just as suddenly as it had started, the screeching stopped. The oppressive noise vanished into silence, and the flickering lights steadied, leaving the house eerily still.

Nancy and Jonathan exchanged a quick glance, their faces pale but focused, before cautiously stepping toward the door. Weapons still raised, they eased it open, every muscle in their bodies taut, bracing for whatever might be on the other side.

But there was nothing. Just silence.

Steve knew that apologizing wasn’t easy — especially for someone like him, with the mess of mistakes and bad decisions trailing behind him — but this? This was on a whole different level. He’d psyched himself up, replayed his words over and over in his head, determined to make things right, but instead, he was dodging monsters, lights were flickering like some haunted fun house, and Nancy had a fucking gun. How was he supposed to work on becoming a better person when the universe seemed hell-bent on throwing him into the middle of absolute chaos? This wasn’t self-improvement — it was survival.

They crept out of the bedroom cautiously, every step feeling heavier than the last. The hallway stretched ahead, eerily normal, as if the chaos they had just witnessed had been nothing more than a collective nightmare. But Steve knew better — he could still feel the adrenaline buzzing through his veins, the hair on his arms standing on end.

They turned into the living room, and Steve’s eyes darted frantically around the space. Everything seemed intact: the string of Christmas lights, the haphazard alphabet painted on the wall, the strange smell of petrol still lingering in the air. It all looked the same, but Steve couldn’t shake the feeling that the creature was lurking, just out of sight.

“This is crazy… this is actually crazy,” Steve muttered, his voice low and trembling. He repeated the phrase over and over under his breath, like a mantra, his eyes scanning every corner as if the act alone might somehow keep the monster away.

Nancy moved cautiously through the room, her gun raised and ready, while Jonathan gripped the nail-studded bat tightly in both hands. They methodically searched the living room, their steps slow and deliberate, as though they expected the creature to leap out from the shadows at any moment.

“This is crazy. This is crazy. This is crazy! ” Steve’s voice rose in pitch and volume, his panic reaching its boiling point. Then, in a sudden burst of desperation, he bolted toward the phone mounted on the wall, yanking it off the receiver and punching in numbers with shaking hands.

The police. Of course. They were just kids — there was no way they could handle something like this. If anyone could, it had to be the cops. Right?

Steve barely got halfway through dialling when Nancy rushed over, snatching the phone out of his hands and slamming it back onto the receiver with a loud clack.

“What are you— what are you doing?! Are you insane?!” Steve shouted, his voice cracking with fear and frustration.

Nancy didn’t back down. “It’s going to come back!” she snapped. Her voice was firm but laced with urgency, “So you need to leave. Right now. ”

Steve’s wide, terrified eyes darted between Nancy and Jonathan. His instinct screamed at him to argue, to do something — but he knew deep down that she was right. Without another word, he turned on his heel and sprinted out the front door. He slammed it shut behind him, as if that alone could keep the monster contained, and stumbled toward his car.

Grabbing the car door for support, Steve clung to it like it was a lifeline. He tried to catch his breath, his hands shaking so violently, he wasn’t sure if he could even get the keys in the ignition. For the first time in his life, Steve Harrington was utterly, hopelessly lost.

And that’s when it happened again.

The lights.

They began flickering wildly, casting erratic shadows across the yard, and that sickening, guttural noise returned — the sound of the creature, impossibly loud and inescapable. Steve froze, his chest tightening with dread. He should have driven off right then and there, but something kept him rooted in place.

This time, though, the terror wasn’t for himself.

Nancy’s scream shattered the night, piercing through the walls of the house like a knife. Crying out Jonathan’s name, her voice raw and panicked. A series of gunshots rang out immediately after, each one echoing in Steve’s ears like a death knell.

Steve’s breath hitched as he clenched the car door tighter. They were still in there, fighting for their lives. Jonathan. Nancy. He wanted to help, but what could he do? He couldn’t even hold his own in a fight against Jonathan, let alone some… some thing straight out of a nightmare.

“Run away! Run away like you always do!”

Tommy’s voice echoed in his mind, a cruel reminder of his past cowardice, of all the times he had turned tail when things got hard.

And maybe Tommy was right. Steve had always ran. That’s what made sense — what he was supposed to do now, wasn’t it? Run. Get out while he still could. He wasn’t a fighter, even if he claimed he was. He wasn’t a hero. He wasn’t… anything.

But another voice played in his head, quieter this time.

“For what it’s worth, you’re still an idiot, but at least you’re trying,”

Steve swallowed hard. How could he try if he left? How could he try if Nancy and Jonathan didn’t survive the night? How could he look anyone in the eye — look himself in the eye — knowing he ran when it mattered most?

The answer was clear. He couldn’t.

Keys was right about one thing: Steve is an idiot.

Love turns you into an idiot. And Steve Harrington might not have been the smartest guy in the room, but he wasn’t going to let his love — his stupid, messy, complicated love — turn into grief.

Steeling himself, Steve took a deep breath and stepped away from the car. He didn’t have a plan. He didn’t have a weapon. He didn’t have a clue. But for the first time in his life, he had something to prove.

And Steve Harrington wasn’t going to run. Not this time.

He sprinted back into that haunted home, adrenaline pumping through his veins as he burst into the living room. His eyes immediately locked onto two things: Jonathan sprawled on the floor, stunned but alive, and the monster stalking toward Nancy, who was desperately pulling the gun’s trigger. It was no use — she was out of bullets.

Then his gaze landed on the third thing: Jonathan’s discarded nail bat, lying just out of reach on the floor. Without thinking, Steve dove for it, his fingers curling around the handle as he surged to his feet, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

“Hey, you ugly piece of shit!” he shouted, swinging the bat with everything he had, grunting with the impact. The nails bit deep into the creature’s side, eliciting a wet, guttural screech. It turned its head toward him, its eyeless face somehow zeroing in on its new target. Steve didn’t back down. He ripped the bat free, blood, and ichor dripping from the nails, and swung again.

The impact reverberated up his arms as he struck its shoulder. The thing staggered but didn’t go down, swiping a clawed hand at Steve’s chest. He barely managed to duck, the air whistling as the claw passed just inches from his face.

It felt like time slowed, his movements automatic, his muscles working on instinct. He swung again and again, keeping the monster’s focus on him. “Come on, you son of a bitch!” Steve growled, gripping the bat tighter as he adjusted his stance, his movements instinctive, almost muscle memory.

It was like playing baseball with Kurt back in middle school — though he was pretty sure he’d never aimed for a pitcher’s head quite like this before.

Steve adjusted the brim of his baseball cap, watching as Kurt dug his sneakers into the dirt. The bat in Kurt’s hands looked a little too big for him, but he held it tightly, his eyes locked on Steve.

“You better not screw this up, Kurt,” Steve said, a teasing grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. He tossed the baseball into his glove a couple of times, taking his sweet time.

“I’m not gonna screw it up!” Kurt shot back, his voice cracking. He repositioned his grip on the bat, his knuckles turning white. For a moment, his bravado faltered, and he hesitated. “Hey, Steve…” Kurt’s face turned serious. He glanced down at the ground before looking back at Steve, “If I hit this, like, really good… Do you think people at school will notice? Like, do you think I’ll be… popular?”

Steve blinked, his hand freezing mid-spin. The grin faded from his face as he really looked at his brother. Kurt’s shoulders were tense, his stance unsure, but his eyes were desperate. Steve let out a breath, lowering the ball.

“Popular?” Steve repeated.

“Yeah,” Kurt mumbled, his gaze dropping to the dirt, “I mean… I just think it’d be cool if people, you know, noticed me. Thought I was good at something.”

Steve hesitated. Their parents were never around enough to give them pep talks like this, and being just one minute older than Kurt didn’t exactly make him an expert on life. But the way Kurt asked, like it really mattered, made Steve’s chest tighten a little.

“Look, Kurt,” Steve said, finally, “Smacking a ball into the sky isn’t gonna make you popular. That’s not how it works.”

Kurt’s shoulders sagged. He shuffled his feet, kicking up dirt, “Oh. Yeah, I guess not.”

“But,” Steve added, stepping closer, “it might make you popular to me . And I’m already the coolest guy in school, so that’s something, right?”

Kurt’s head shot up, a hesitant smile breaking through his disappointment. “You’re not that cool,” he said, his tone teasing but his voice soft.

“Okay, smartass,” Steve said, laughing as he backed up to the makeshift pitcher’s mound, “Tell you what. If you hit this one so hard it leaves the yard, I’ll let you sit with me at lunch. Maybe even tell Tommy H. you’re pretty good at baseball.”

Kurt’s grin widened, and he adjusted his stance, “You better get ready to eat your words, Stevie-boy!”

Steve wound up and pitched the ball, his arm snapping forward. The bat cracked against the ball, sending it flying high into the sky. For one shining moment, everything felt perfect. Kurt’s face lit up like he’d just won the lottery.

And then the ball smashed through the living room window.

Both boys froze, staring at the shattered glass in horror.

“Oh, shit,” Steve muttered, breaking the silence.

Kurt winced, then looked at Steve, “Does this mean I’m not gonna be popular?”

Steve stared at him for a moment, then barked out a laugh, the kind that made his stomach ache, “No, Kurt, breaking windows doesn’t make you popular. It makes you grounded.”

Kurt groaned, dragging the bat behind him as they slowly walked toward the house, “What if we don’t tell them?”

“They’ll notice, you idiot. It’s our house.” Steve rolled his eyes, “What if we say a really fat bird broke it?”

But this wasn’t baseball.

The monster roared and lunged, forcing Steve to dive to the side. He rolled, coming to his knees just as the creature’s claws scraped the floor where he had been. He jumped back on his feet, memories of baseball with Kurt bleeding into his movements.

Steve swung relentlessly, aiming for anything he could reach: the monster’s arms, its torso, its legs. With each hit, the thing staggered back, snarling and flailing, until — finally — its leg slammed into the bear trap still sitting in the middle of the hallway. The trap snapped shut with a sickening clamp around the creature’s leg, holding it in place as it thrashed and howled.

“He’s in the trap!” Steve shouted over the chaos, his chest heaving, “He’s stuck!”

“Jonathan, now!” Nancy yelled, her voice steady despite the terror in her eyes.

Jonathan pushed himself off the floor, fumbling to grab his lighter from his pocket. With a flick, the flame came to life, and he hurled it onto the petrol-soaked floor beneath the monster.

The creature went up in flames instantly, its screech echoing through the house like nails on a chalkboard. The trio instinctively stepped back, Jonathan and Steve shielding their faces from the intense heat while Nancy kept her eyes on the blaze, her knuckles white as she gripped her empty gun.

The monster writhed in agony, but its movements slowed, then stopped altogether as the fire consumed it. The house fell eerily silent except for the crackle of flames.

Jonathan didn’t wait to see if it was truly dead. He bolted out of the room, returning seconds later with a fire extinguisher. He sprayed the flames until they were smothered, leaving behind only a massive scorch mark on the floor.

“It’s gone, right?” Steve asked, his voice shaky, the bat still clutched tightly in his hands.

Nancy stepped closer to the blackened spot, her expression unreadable. “Where did it go?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

“It has to be dead,” Jonathan said, though he sounded more like he was trying to convince himself than anyone else. “It has to be…”

But before anyone could respond, the Christmas lights overhead began to blink. Not the aggressive, strobe-like flicker from earlier, but something softer, almost rhythmic. The lights illuminated in sequence, one by one, creating a pattern that seemed deliberate.

The trio froze, their fear morphing into something more complicated — unease mixed with curiosity.

“What… what’s it doing?” Steve asked, his voice quieter now, as if speaking too loudly might shatter the fragile peace.

Nancy tilted her head, watching the lights as they blinked on and off, leading down the hallway. “Where’s it going?” she asked, glancing at Jonathan and Steve, who exchanged wary looks before following her toward the illuminated path.

Jonathan shook his head, his grip on the bat tightening again. “I don’t know,” he admitted. His voice was steady, but his eyes betrayed his uncertainty, “But… I don’t think that’s the monster.”

Steve stood there, his chest heaving, his grip on the bat loosening slightly as the adrenaline began to wear off. His mind raced, the memory of Kurt’s voice echoing in his head.

“You know, Steve,” Kurt had said, still holding the bat, “you always figure it out when it really matters. That’s why I’m glad you’re my brother.”

For the first time since Steve had stepped foot in the Byers’ house, the oppressive sense of dread seemed to lift, replaced by a strange, almost serene atmosphere. The lights blinked gently, guiding them forward. And as the trio moved cautiously, side by side, one thing became clear: whatever this was, it wasn’t over yet, but at least this chapter's closed.

It felt strange sitting outside a hospital room for a kid he’d never met, but somehow, leaving didn’t feel right. Sure, Steve could’ve done without the side glances from Nancy’s parents or the knowledge that Hopper—who’d nearly arrested him more times than he cared to count — was just a couple of seats away. But still, here he was.

The hallway was filled with an odd kind of quiet. The steady beeping of Will’s heart monitor filtered faintly through the door, occasionally punctuated by the loud snores of his friends sprawled out in chairs. It was calm, but not peaceful. Not really. At least they were safe now. Everyone was okay.

That’s what Steve kept telling himself, anyway. But it was hard to miss the weight of grief hanging on Mike’s face, even as the kid sat silently across the room. Not that Steve could ask him about it — Mike hated him enough already, probably for the crime of breathing near his sister, let alone dating her.

Still, Steve knew he had a lot of fixing to do. He owed both Nancy and Jonathan a real apology — one that didn’t involve monsters or baseball bats. The three of them had survived something unthinkable together, and it had chipped away at some of the animosity between them. Shared trauma had a way of doing that.

For now, though, he’d sit here in this too-quiet hallway, trying to convince himself that everything would be okay — and that he could make things right.

It took Steve nearly a month to work up the courage to face them both, but here he was, standing awkwardly at Nancy’s front door, fiddling nervously with the edges of a poorly wrapped present. The icy December air bit his face, but it felt nothing compared to the pit of nerves churning in his stomach. Nancy had heard part of his apology before — before that damn monster, the thing the kids called a Demogorgon for some reason, had interrupted them — or maybe he had interrupted the Demogorgon? Either way, Jonathan? He probably didn’t hear a word of it. His first attempt at an apology felt more like handing out a coupon for future goodness than actually making amends.

He knocked softly, the sound much gentler than the last time he tried to apologise. Nancy answered quickly, wrapped in a cardigan, her expression unreadable.

“Hey,” Steve said, holding up the box awkwardly, “Uh… Is now a bad time?”

Nancy crossed her arms and leaned against the door frame, studying him with an unreadable look. “Depends,” she replied coolly, “Are you here to start more drama, or…?”

“No! No drama,” Steve rushed, shaking his head, “I’m here to— uh, I wanted to apologise. Again. Properly this time.” He took a shaky breath, gathering his thoughts, “Nancy, I’m sorry. For everything. I messed up. I know I was an idiot, a jerk, and… worse than that, honestly. But I’m trying to be better. I really am.”

Nancy raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything, which Steve took as a cue to keep going.

“I should’ve listened to you. About everything. I didn’t have your back when you needed it, and I made things worse when I should’ve been helping to make them better. That’s on me,” he continued, his voice softening, “I— I really am sorry.”

Nancy sighed and her posture softened. She reached out and touched his arm, cutting him off gently. “Steve, it’s okay,” she said, giving him a small, reassuring smile, “You already apologised. And honestly? We’ve all been through so much… I don’t have the energy to hold a grudge.”

Steve blinked, his mind catching up with her words, “Wait, you forgive me?”

“Yeah,” Nancy said, her smile widening just a little, “I forgive you.”

He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, and his shoulders finally relaxed. “Okay. Uh, thanks. That means a lot.”

It was easier than he’d expected. He had braced himself for a door in his face or worse — a cold “piss off,” or her sending Mike to chase him off like a dog, maybe all of the above. But no, she was actually — forgiving him?

There was a brief pause before Steve cleared his throat, lifting the box in his hands again. “So… this is for Jonathan,” he said, hesitant, “I figured he wouldn’t exactly want to see me, but could you give it to him? It’s kind of my way of saying.… sorry. And thanks. For saving my ass.”

Nancy looked at the box, brow furrowing slightly in curiosity, “What is it?”

“A camera,” Steve said quickly, “I know how much he loves photography, and, well, I kind of wrecked his last one, so…” He shrugged, sheepish, “I thought maybe this would make up for it. Or at least show him I’m trying to make things right.”

Nancy's lips curved into a small, surprised smile. “That’s…thoughtful of you.”

“Yeah, well,” Steve grinned, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly, “don’t let it get around. I’ve got a reputation to maintain” His tone was light, joking even, despite everything.

Nancy rolled her eyes but took the box from him. “I’ll give it to him,” she said, “And, Steve? It’s a good start.”

Steve nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Thanks, Nancy. For everything.”

“No problem,” she replied before seeming to remember something. She hesitated, looking down at the box in her hands, then back up at him. “Oh, would you like to join us for Christmas? I was at your place last year, so…” She fidgeted with the wrapping paper, clearly feeling a bit awkward. “You could bring your brothers if you want. No pressure, though.”

Steve blinked, surprised by the invitation. “I’ll be there, don’t worry,” he said with a chuckle, “I’ll ask Kurt and Mickey if they’ll come too.”

“Great. See you then.” her smile softening, “By the way, I’m going to rewrap this,” Nancy added, giggling as she inspected Steve's poor attempt at wrapping.

Steve grimaced, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, it’s probably for the best,” he said with a sheepish smile, “I appreciate it.”

Nancy chuckled, the sound light and genuine. “No problem,” she said. “It’s a lot better than last year's attempt”

“One step at a time,” Steve grinned back, feeling a little lighter than he had in a while.

Nancy nodded before she stepped back inside and closed the door, Steve stood there for a moment, letting the cold air bite at his skin before turning back toward his car. His hands were still stuffed in his jacket pockets, but there was a lightness in his step. Maybe — just maybe — he was starting to get the hang of this whole “being a better person” thing.

He just hoped none of the Wheelers saw him celebrating in his car.

It was quiet in the Wheeler home, the kind of stillness that only settled when everyone had found their place. Ted was asleep on the sofa, his snores steady and unbothered, gentle in the background. Mike was over at the Byers' house — which Steve hoped he never had to step foot in again… Karen was nowhere to be seen, probably looking after Holly. Key's hadn’t come; he’d promised his girlfriend, Millie, he’d spend Christmas with her.

Kurt, however, sat still, eyes fixed on Ted with an expression that said he was weighing the pros and cons of doing something that might disturb the other man, a decision that could either end in laughter or a very awkward rest of the evening.

“Did you give Jonathan the present?” Steve asked, his voice low, as he wrapped his arm around Nancy.

“Yeah,” Nancy replied, her head resting against Steve's shoulder as she snuggled closer, “Merry Christmas, Steve.”

“Merry Christmas, Nancy,” he murmured, pressing a kiss into her hair.

Just as the peaceful moment seemed to stretch on, Kurt broke the silence with a mischievous grin. “Do you think it would be a bad idea to see how many Life Savers I can stack on Mr. Wheeler's forehead before he wakes up?”

“Please, don't,” Steve groaned, unable to hide the exasperation in his voice. The last thing he needed was another reason for the Wheelers to dislike him, especially with the fact that he and Kurt were identical.

Kurt let out an exaggerated sigh. “Fine,” he grumbled.

But Nancy, of course, wasn’t about to let it go. “Damn it, now I’m curious,” she muttered, already slipping off the couch.

With a conspiratorial glance, Kurt and Nancy crept toward Ted. They moved with exaggerated stealth, trying not to make a sound as they carefully began stacking the colourful candies onto Ted's forehead. Steve watched the two actively trying — and failing — not to laugh, as he also fought to keep a straight face.

“Nancy, you're going to knock them all over with your shaky hands,” Kurt whispered, his voice full of mock annoyance.

“It’s not my fault that I’ve never stacked Life Savers on someone’s forehead before,” Nancy whispered back, just as a tower of candy teetered dangerously.

And then, with a disastrous slip of her fingers, the whole stack toppled, the Life Savers scattering across Ted's face.

Both Kurt and Nancy froze. Ted stirred in his sleep, grumbling slightly as he shifted on the couch. In a panic, they both scrambled to get away from Ted. Nancy dove onto the couch next to Steve, and Kurt, in an unsurprisingly shameful move, flung himself halfway onto a chair, half off the floor, trying to avoid detection.

Ted, still groggy, didn’t even blink at the Life-Savers scattered across his face. He simply picked one up, popped it in his mouth and went back to sleep.

That was all it took to break the trio, and they all completely lost it, dissolving into silent laughter. Nancy shoved her face into Steve’s chest, trying to muffle her laughter. Kurt was half-doubled over in the chair, slowly sliding off of it, his shoulders shaking as he tried to cover the sound with his hand. Steve just pressed his face into Nancy’s hair, trying desperately to hold it together, not wanting to wake up Ted again.

It was chaos. But it was the kind of chaos that felt like family.

Chapter Text

“So, she straight up said your entire relationship was bullshit?” Keys asked, raising an eyebrow as he leaned back, his tone teetering between disbelief, mild amusement, and pity.

“Yup. Said we were just acting like we were in love, too,” Steve replied, his tone flat as he stared out the windscreen.

They were parked in Steve’s car outside Badley’s Big Buy, the chilly evening air fogging the windows slightly. Steve sat sideways in the driver’s seat, his back pressed against the door to better face his brother, his legs bent beneath him. Keys, sprawled across the backseat behind the passenger side, had his legs stretched over the middle, a box of Mr. T cereal balanced precariously on his lap.

It wasn’t a surprise that Keys was sitting in the back. Steve had officially banned him from the passenger seat after his repeated offences as a backseat driver — especially since Keys didn’t even have a licence. The final straw was Keys doing that annoying thing where he’d lean forward to “help spot an opening,” only to block Steve’s view entirely.

“She was drunk when she said all this, though, right?” Keys asked, his tone casual, like they were discussing the weather, munching on a handful of dry cereal.

“Yes! How many times do I have to tell you?” Steve shot back, clearly annoyed.

“I’m just saying, drunk minds are crazy minds,” Keys said, shrugging as he shoved more cereal in his mouth, “And I should know, considering I’ve had to babysit drunk Steve…”

“We don’t talk about drunk Steve,” Steve muttered darkly, “Besides, you know the saying: ‘Drunk actions are sober thoughts’”

Keys let out a long, exaggerated sigh and grabbed the box of cereal off his lap, leaning forward and shoving it into the glovebox without a second thought. Steve glared at him in disapproval, but Keys ignored it, settling back into his seat, crossing his arms. “Look, man, sometimes people just fall out of love. It happens all the time in high school.”

“Oh, please,” Steve scoffed, “You were barely in high school, Mr. Skipped-to-College .”

“Not the point,” Keys said, brushing off the jab. “Did you at least talk to sober Nancy about it?”

“Yeah, I confronted her,” Steve admitted with a sigh, running a hand through his hair, his frustration softening into something more resigned, “Asked if she loved me, but… she didn’t respond.”

Keys let out a low whistle, leaning back further in his seat, “Damn. That’s rough. But, bro, you can’t be thinking about apologizing. I know what you’re like.”

“Maybe I should, though,” Steve muttered, his voice quieter now, “I mean… maybe I did something wrong.”

“Apologize for what?” Keys exclaimed, sitting up straight for the first time, “Look, last year, yeah, you needed to apologize to her — made sense. But this? You didn’t do shit this time! You can’t just show up at her place and be like, ‘Oh, sorry, you don’t love me any more!’ That’s not how this works.”

“Then what do I do?” Steve asked, frustration creeping back into his voice as he rubbed his temple.

“You let her go,” Keys said bluntly.

Steve let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head, “Oh, yeah, that’s real easy to say coming from you , Mr. Still-Got-His-Girl .”

“It’s a hell of a lot better than whining and moping to your brother about it, Mr. Abandonment-Issues ,” Keys shot back, matching Steve’s energy.

“I do not have abandonment issues—” Steve started defensively.

“Oh, yeah? And I’m the President of the United States,” Keys interrupted with a smirk, “See? We can all lie here.”

Their argument was abruptly interrupted when the passenger door flew open, and a kid with a mop of curly hair climbed into the seat, looking completely unfazed by the intrusion. Keys froze in shock, his mouth half-open, while Steve instinctively tensed, ready to throw hands, before realizing it was just… a kid.

“I’ve been biking for hours looking for someone,” the kid sighed, slumping into the seat, “I’m fucking exhausted.”

“Woah! Dustin!” Steve exclaimed, his tone a mix of disbelief and reprimand, “Didn’t your parents ever teach you not to get into strangers’ cars?!”

“We’re not strangers,” Dustin replied flatly, giving Steve an unimpressed look, “I met you at the hospital last year.”

“ Barely, ” Steve shot back.

“We have bigger problems than stranger danger,” Dustin said, brushing him off with a dismissive wave, “Do you still have that bat?”

Steve’s heart skipped a beat, and his eyes darted nervously toward Keys, who was staring at him from the back seat, clearly suspicious. “Bat? What bat?” Steve asked, his voice jumping an octave.

Smooth. Real smooth, Steve.

“The one with the nails,” Dustin said bluntly, as if Steve had just asked him to define the colour of the sky.

“Ex- fucking -cuse me?!” Keys blurted, his voice booming as he finally processed the words. He leaned forward, eyes wide, “ What bat with nails? ”

Dustin nearly jumped out of his skin, whipping around to see Keys for the first time. “Shit! Fuck!” he yelped, before quickly turning back to Steve with wide eyes, “Would the government kill me if I broke the NDA? Because I’m pretty sure I just did.”

Steve opened his mouth to respond, but Keys beat him to it, wagging a finger like he was delivering some grand legal wisdom, “NDAs aren’t legally binding if a minor signed them.”

“Oh, thank God ,” Dustin breathed, practically melting into the seat in relief, “I didn’t wanna die just because Steve 2.0 over here was hiding.”

“Ouch,” Keys muttered, recoiling, “I’m not Steve, and I’m not hiding.” He paused, narrowing his eyes at Steve, “And seriously, why do you have a bat with nails?”

“Who the hell are you? ” Dustin asked, whipping back around to properly look at Keys this time.

“Jesus Christ…” Steve groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Dustin, this is Keys — who, by the way, will get super antsy if you call him Mickey. Keys, this is Dustin… who I, uh, know absolutely nothing about.”

“Cool cool cool,” Keys said, cringing slightly as Dustin gave him a small wave, “Now, seriously, why do you have a bat with nails?”

Dustin ignored the question, leaning toward Steve, “Do you still have it with you? This is kinda important.”

Well, that’s not a good sign.

“Yeah, it’s in the boot,” Steve admitted, already bracing himself for the incoming chaos. He didn’t even need to look at Keys to know the horrified expression on his face. “Why?”

“I’ll explain it on the way,” Dustin replied matter-of-factly, snapping his seatbelt into place.

“ Now? ” Steve asked, turning in his seat and sitting forward properly, his fingers twitching as he adjusted his own seatbelt.

“Now!” Dustin confirmed.

Keys, still trying to keep up, threw his hands up in exasperation before strapping himself in, “Can someone please explain to me what the hell is going on?!”

“I’ll explain that too!” Dustin said quickly, twisting around to shoot Keys a sheepish grin, “Kind of accidentally dragged you into this. Sorry about that.”

Great, Steve thought, his grip tightening on the wheel as his stomach sank. Monster shit again. And now my brother’s a part of it.

Perfect. Just perfect.

—

“Hammer to Fall” played softly on the stereo, the steady rhythm doing little to ease the tension in the car. Dustin had directed Steve to his house while attempting to explain last year’s chaos to Keys. Judging by the look on his face, “shell-shocked” was an understatement. The guy sat frozen in the back seat, processing Dustin’s casual recount of interdimensional monsters and near-death experiences.

The current crisis, as Dustin put it, involved something he called “Dart” at his house, which apparently necessitated the infamous nail bat.

“Wait, how big are we talking here?” Steve asked, glancing at Dustin for a moment before refocusing on the road.

“Well, at first, he was this big,” Dustin said, holding up his fingers a few inches apart. “But now he’s this big.” He used both hands to demonstrate a size that made Steve’s stomach drop a little.

“I swear to God, man, it’s just some little lizard,” Steve said, trying to convince himself more than anyone. He knew lizards didn’t get that big, but kids had a way of exaggerating.

“It’s not a lizard!” Dustin snapped, as if the suggestion was the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard.

“How do you know?” Keys chimed in, his voice uncharacteristically quiet, like he didn’t really want an answer.

“How do I know if it’s not?!” Dustin repeated, incredulous.

“No, how do you know it’s not just a lizard?” Steve rephrased, shooting Dustin a pointed look through the rearview mirror.

“Because his face opened up, and he ate my cat! ” Dustin shouted, his voice cracking slightly.

The car went dead silent.

Steve blinked, gripping the wheel tighter. “Well…”

“Yeah, that… definitely doesn’t sound like a lizard,” Keys said.

Steve nodded slowly, his lips pressed into a thin line as the car pulled up in front of Dustin’s house. The trio climbed out, though Keys lagged behind, still looking like he was questioning all of his life choices that had led to this moment.

Steve popped the boot, grabbing the nail bat and a torch. As he handed the torch to Dustin, he turned and tossed his car keys to Keys, who fumbled them for a moment before shoving them into his pocket.

“You ready for this?” Steve asked, slinging the bat over his shoulder and looking at Dustin.

Dustin nodded, his jaw set in determination.

Keys, still rooted to the spot near the car, groaned, “Absolutely not. But, uh… I’m here, so let’s just get it over with.”

“Great pep talk,” Steve muttered, “Let’s go monster hunting.”

Dustin tugged on Steve’s jacket, dragging him forward, while Keys followed at a cautious distance. Steve’s torch cut through the darkness as they approached the basement door at the back of the house. The beam of light revealed a heavy padlock securing the entrance.

Steve stared at the door, tilting his head as he leaned in closer, “I don’t hear shit.”

“He’s in there,” Dustin said, though his voice wavered ever so slightly, betraying his own uncertainty.

Steve raised his nail bat and gave the door a couple of experimental pokes, his brow furrowed. “All right, kid,” he said, turning to shine the torch directly into Dustin’s face, eliciting a squawk of protest, “If this is some kind of Halloween prank, I swear to God—”

“It’s not ,” Dustin interrupted quickly, shielding his eyes with his hand, “This is serious. Not a prank.”

“It’d be a pretty dumb prank, anyway,” Keys added, peeking over Steve’s shoulder at Dustin.

Dustin glared at them both before swatting the torch beam away from his face. “Get that out of my eyes.”

“You got a key for this thing?” Steve asked, gesturing at the padlock.

Dustin pulled a set of keys from his pocket and tossed them to Steve. Catching them, Steve crouched down and unlocked the padlock with a faint click . He pushed the door open just enough to peer into the pitch-black basement, his torch casting long shadows over the stairs.

The three of them stood motionless, watching for any sign of movement. The only sound was the faint creak of the door hinges.

“He’s got to be further down there,” Dustin suggested, breaking the silence.

“Based on that terrifying brain-dump you gave us in the car,” Keys began, his voice low, “it makes sense it’d be hiding. Probably waiting to strike.”

Dustin looked at Keys, his eyes narrowed. He was aware of the other man’s hands gripping his shoulders like a lifeline, but for once, he didn’t try to push them away. Keys’ grip wasn’t intrusive; it was just there, like an unspoken reassurance. “We’ll, uh, stay up here. Just in case he tries to escape.”

Steve slowly turned to face them, his expression equal parts disbelief and offence. “Seriously?” he asked flatly.

Neither of them responded, though Keys had the decency to look a little sheepish. Steve sighed heavily, straightened up, and began descending the basement stairs, his nail bat ready and his torch illuminating the way.

“Don’t die,” Keys whispered after him.

Steve stopped mid-step, turning his head slightly to glare over his shoulder. “Not helping me or my nerves,” he whispered back, rolling his eyes before continuing down into the dark.

Steve kept the bat out in front of him, torchlight slicing through the darkness as he scanned the basement, praying the mini-Gorgon—or whatever the hell it was—didn’t jump out at him. The eerie silence pressed down on him like a heavy weight. He reached for the light switch, flicking it on. His gaze immediately landed on what looked like green, slimy skin, shed like a snake’s. Steve grimaced, his stomach turning at the sight, as he picked it up with the tip of his bat.

But then he saw something else — something that was definitely going to be a problem.

“Shit…” Steve muttered under his breath.

Dustin’s voice cut through the silence, quieter than he intended; The silence had clearly got to him, “Steve?” He took a cautious step forward, peering down the stairs, but Keys’ hands gently prevented him from going any further.

“Steve, what’s going on down there?” Keys asked, leaning over Dustin’s shoulder, his voice low and nervous.

The silence stretched for a moment before the beam of Steve’s torch blinded them both. They groaned, squinting in response as their eyes adjusted just enough to see Steve’s disapproving expression.

“Get down here,” Steve ordered, pointing at the ground.

Keys shot a nervous look at Dustin before walking down the stairs, making sure Dustin followed closely behind.

“Someone should teach Steve where not to aim a torch…” Dustin whispered into Keys’ ear, earning a small chuckle from the teen.

When they reached the basement, Steve was standing there, bat in his hand, showing off the disgusting monster skin clinging to the nails.

“Ew…” Keys muttered, grimacing, taking a quick step back.

“Oh, shit,” Dustin muttered, his shoulders slumping as he realized the gravity of the situation, “It grew.”

Steve didn’t need to confirm it. He pointed his torch at a hole in the far wall, or more accurately, a small tunnel.

“Oh, shit!” Dustin gasped, stepping forward, his tone rising with panic, “No way…”

Steve and Dustin approached the tunnel, the torch cutting through the darkness in the narrow passage. Keys stayed put, watching through the gap between the two boys, his face pale with worry. He couldn’t bring himself to step closer to that thing.

“That’s a big-ass problem if I’ve ever seen one,” Steve muttered, eyes glued to the dark void.

“Sssshhhhhiiiiittttt,” Keys hissed, his voice edged with panic, “Someone’s going to die.”

Dustin whipped around to face Keys, eyes wide with alarm. “What?!” he shouted, his voice rising in pitch, “No! Nobody’s going to die! That would make it my fault!”

Steve sighed, rubbing his temples, “Well done, Keys. You’ve officially scared the kid shitless with your own fear.”

Keys shot a glance at Steve, grimacing as some sort of silent apology.

Steve turned back to Dustin, “It’s not going to kill anyone,” he said, his tone softer than he’d like to admit, “And if it does, we’ve got the Lab to thank. They’re the ones who opened that damn portal-gate-thing, remember?” He shrugged nonchalantly, not entirely sure of what he was saying, but trying to comfort Dustin nonetheless.

Dustin took a few slow, steadying breaths, trying to process Steve’s words. His shoulders relaxed a little. “True… Plus, I’m 13. It’s not like the Government can hold me legally responsible.”

Steve shot him a glance, an amused smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Good point. You’ve got youth on your side.”

—

They decided the best plan of action was to regroup, gather supplies, and track down the monster the next day. That’s why Steve now found himself crouched on the floor, setting down multiple buckets filled with chopped-up meat. He tried to block out the memory of the cashier’s bewildered stare as he’d paid for an obscene amount of raw meat. Meanwhile, Keys was haphazardly stuffing anything remotely useful into a backpack, from Steve’s nail bat to a torch to what Steve was pretty sure was an ice scraper. Dustin, for his part, just stood there, watching them like he was the mastermind behind the whole operation.

The silence was broken by the static crackle of Dustin’s walkie-talkie. Naturally, Steve leaned in, ready to eavesdrop.

“Dustin! This is Lucas. Do you copy?” a pre-teen voice buzzed through the speaker.

Dustin’s face instantly lit up with smug satisfaction. “Well, well, well, look who decided to call,” he said, his tone practically dripping with mock superiority.

“Sorry, man. My stupid sister turned the walkie off,” Lucas sighed.

“While you were dealing with sister problems, Dart grew again,” Dustin informed him, pacing like he was delivering a dire report, “He escaped, and I’m, like, 99.9% sure he’s a baby Demogorgon.”

“Wait, WHAT?” Lucas’s voice shot up several octaves, the static amplifying his disbelief.

“I’ll explain later,” Dustin said quickly, brushing off Lucas’s panic like it was nothing, “Meet me, Steve, and Keys at the scrapyard—”

“ Steve? ” Lucas interrupted, his tone a mix of surprise and disgust, “And who the hell is Keys?”

Dustin rolled his eyes, waving a dismissive hand at the walkie like Lucas could see him. “Just bring your binoculars and your wrist rocket,” he continued, ignoring the question entirely.

Steve slammed the boot of the car shut, cutting off any further debate. “All right, let’s go,” he ordered, taking the backpack off Keys with a nod of appreciation before grabbing the bucket of meat.

“Just be there, stat. Over and out,” Dustin finished, his voice firm as he clipped the walkie-talkie back to his belt.

Keys picked up his own bucket of meat and looked at Dustin, offering Dustin his bucket. “Do I even get an explanation for whom this Lucas kid is, or are we just adding more people to this death trap without warning me?”

Dustin didn’t even glance back as he took the bucket off Keys, marching after Steve. “Lucas is cool. You’ll like him. Probably.”

“Comforting,” Keys muttered under his breath, following behind Steve and Dustin, though the tension in his shoulders suggested he was bracing for the worst.

The trio walked in some sort of odd single-file line along the train tracks. Dustin took the lead, casually tossing chunks of meat onto the ground at random intervals. Steve followed, more deliberate with his throws, making sure the trail was neat and consistent. Keys brought up the rear, shaking the bucket to get the meat out with an air of disgust, visibly cringing — even though he had gloves on.

“All right, let me get this straight…” Steve started, breaking the silence, “You kept something you knew was probably dangerous just to impress a girl? A girl you barely even know?”

“That’s a gross oversimplification,” Dustin huffed, throwing another chunk of meat with a little too much force.

“I mean, seriously, why would a girl even like some nasty slug thing?” Keys chimed in, jogging a few steps to catch up with Steve.

“ Interdimensional slug, ” Dustin corrected with a self-satisfied chuckle, “Because it’s awesome! I thought you were the smart one.”

“Ouch,” Steve muttered, narrowing his eyes.

“I am the smart one,” Keys shot back, “but my girlfriend’s more into tech than slugs. You know — normal things.”

“That's just a different genre of nerd, dude.” Steve argued.

Dustin ignored him. “And anyway, even if she thought it wasn’t cool—which she didn’t—I just…” He trailed off, glancing back at the brothers, “I don’t know, man. I guess I just thought it’d help.”

Steve sighed, trying to organize his thoughts. “Look, I’m not saying this to be a jerk, but… it just feels like you’re trying way too hard.”

“Not everyone can have your perfect hair, all right?” Dustin grumbled, bitterness creeping into his voice.

“It’s not about the hair,” Steve replied, rolling his eyes, “The key with girls is… just acting like you don’t care.”

Keys, clearly unimpressed, shot Steve a withering look.

“Even if you do care?” Dustin asked, scepticism etched across his face.

“Exactly,” Steve said with a nod, “It drives them nuts.”

“Then what?” Dustin pressed.

Steve hesitated for a moment, realizing he’d opened a can of worms. “Uh… You wait until you feel it.”

“Feel what?”

Steve sighed. He’d never had to explain this much about something that felt so instinctive. “It’s like… before a storm, you know? You can’t see it, but you can feel it. Like this… this electricity.”

“Oh, you mean like in the electromagnetic field, when clouds in the atmosphere—” Dustin began, clearly eager to flex his science knowledge.

“No, no, no, not that,” Steve interrupted, cutting him off with a wave of his hand, “I mean like… sexual electricity.”

Keys audibly groaned.

Steve cringed at his own phrasing but pushed through. “You feel that, and then you make your move. But not all girls are the same, okay? Some want you to be bold, take charge. Others… you gotta be slow.”

Keys gave him a long, judgmental stare from behind. “Yeah, great advice, Mr single,” he muttered, earning a glare from Steve.

“What type is Nancy?” Dustin asked, ignoring Keys’ comment as he looked up at Steve.

“Nancy’s… different,” Steve replied, his voice softening, “She’s not like other girls.”

“Yeah, she seems pretty special, I guess,” Dustin said with a shrug, though his tone hinted at something deeper, “But this girl… she’s special too, you know? There’s just… something about her.”

Steve froze mid-step, forcing Keys to stop abruptly behind him, nearly bumping into his back. Steve turned to Dustin, narrowing his eyes. “You’re not falling in love with this girl, are you?”

“What? No! No, of course not,” Dustin stammered, his voice lacking any conviction.

“Good,” Steve huffed, resuming his pace and pointing at Dustin with the hand holding a chunk of meat. “Don’t. She’s just gonna break your heart, and trust me, kid, you’re way too young for that kind of shit.”

They continued walking in an awkward silence. The only sounds were the crunch of their boots on gravel and the occasional splat of meat hitting the ground. Eventually, Keys started aggressively poking at Steve’s side.

“Dude, stop poking me!” Steve hissed in a loud whisper.

“Then stop being a dick,” Keys shot back, exasperated.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Steve whispered, his confusion evident.

Keys sighed heavily, gesturing subtly at Dustin. “Look at the damn kid.”

Steve glanced over his shoulder at Dustin, immediately feeling a pang of guilt. The kid’s head was down, his shoulders slumped, dragging his feet like someone had just kicked his puppy.

“Fabergé,” Steve muttered with a sigh, stopping again to nudge Dustin gently with his elbow.

“What?” Dustin mumbled, barely looking up.

“It’s Fabergé Organics,” Steve said, pointing at his own perfectly styled hair, “You use the shampoo and conditioner. And when your hair’s damp—not wet, damp —you do four puffs of the Farrah Fawcett spray.”

“Farrah Fawcett spray?” Dustin repeated, his tone somewhere between amused and incredulous.

Keys immediately burst out laughing, “Wait a second—you told me that was Nancy’s spray!”

Steve glared at him, ignoring the comment. “You tell anyone I just told you that,” he warned, pointing at both Dustin and Keys now, “and your ass is grass. You’re dead. Being a kid or being my brother won’t save you. Got it?”

“Crystal clear,” Keys said with a smirk, clearly enjoying the moment.

Dustin snickered, trying and failing to suppress his grin. “Understood.”

“Now I can finally copy your hairstyle properly,” Keys announced dramatically.

“Ew, no,” Steve groaned, shaking his head in mock horror, “We’ll look like the twins from The Shining. ”

Keys immediately leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a creepy tone, “Come play with us, Danny… forever… and ever… and ever…”

Steve rolled his eyes, trying to push Keys’ face away, but Keys dodged with a squeal, holding his hands up. “Don’t touch me with that meaty glove, man!”

Dustin burst out laughing at the pair, the tension from earlier evaporating as the brothers continued to bicker.

“Oh, yeah. Yeah, this’ll do,” Steve muttered, taking off his sunglasses as he surveyed the scrapyard. “This will do just fine. Good call, dude.” Without wasting another second, he strode toward the centre of the lot and started dumping the remaining meat from his bucket onto the ground.

“Has this always been here?” Keys asked, adjusting his glasses as he took in the wreckage.

“Yup,” Dustin answered with a shrug, “Nobody cares enough about this place to clean it up, so everyone just dumps their shit here.” He didn’t wait for a response before sprinting over to Steve and emptying his own bucket. Keys followed suit, though with noticeably less enthusiasm.

“I said medium-well! ” a familiar voice called out.

Steve turned, recognizing the kid from the hospital — the one who had been among Will’s snoring friends. Lucas. But the red-haired girl standing next to him? She was new. And she looked like she’d rather be anywhere but here.

“Who’s that?” Steve asked, jerking his chin toward her.

Dustin didn’t answer, but he didn’t have to. The sparkle in his eyes said everything.

Steve smirked. Oh, so this is the girl.

“How many people know about this bullshit?” Keys asked, rubbing his temple like he already regretted being here. He wasn’t actually expecting an answer.

Before anyone could respond, Dustin grabbed Lucas by the sleeve as soon as the other two got close and yanked him behind a rusted-out car, no doubt to have some kind of urgent top-secret conversation. That left Steve standing awkwardly with his brother and the redhead.

“So…” Keys started, rocking back on his heels, “What’s your name, random child?”

She raised an unimpressed eyebrow before answering. “Max. You?”

“I’m Keys,” he replied.

Max snorted, “Did your parents hate you or something? ‘Cause that’s a terrible name.”

Steve let out an involuntary snort, which he immediately tried to cover up with a cough.

“What?! No! It’s a nickname! ” Keys sputtered, looking personally offended, “My real name’s Mickey , but I hate being called that.”

“Oh, same. Max is just short for Maxine,” she said with a nod, “But Keys ? Out of all the nicknames, you landed on Keys? ”

Steve was actively holding back laughter at this point, but decided to spare his brother from being bullied by a 13-year-old.

“Do you even know the plan?” He asked, turning to Max.

“Nope,” she said, popping the ‘p.’

“Brilliant,” Steve sighed, rubbing his face, “Just grab scrap metal and whatever else you can find to reinforce the bus.”

Max shrugged, already turning to start collecting supplies, but she hesitated. She spun back around, eyes flicking between the two brothers. “Wait… do you actually believe this bullshit? Like monsters ? Really?”

That caught Steve by surprise.

“I haven’t seen the monster yet, but I saw its skin, ” Keys replied, shivering at the memory, “And trust me, it was way too gross to be fake.”

Max rolled her eyes, unimpressed, and looked over at Steve.

Steve folded his arms. “Okay, how the hell did you get dragged into this if you don’t even believe it?”

Max smirked. “Lucas doesn’t know how to shut his fat mouth.”

Steve huffed out a laugh. “Yeah, well, Dustin doesn’t either. That’s how this idiot got involved, so looks like we’re both stuck.” he said, jerking a thumb toward Keys.

Keys shot him a glare. “I’m smarter than you” Keys mumbled under his breath.

“Seems like a fucked-up fairytale if you ask me,” Max said.

Steve sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I wish it was,” he muttered before grabbing the nearest scrap of metal and getting to work.

Max and Keys exchanged a glance before following his lead.

Lucas and Dustin had been talking behind the car for way too long, and Steve was running out of patience. Dustin dragged him into this year's mess, so it was only fair that he actually helped. Instead, he was off having some deep, heartfelt conversation while Steve, Max, and Keys did all the work.

“So, are we good?” Lucas asked, stretching his hand toward Dustin.

Before Dustin could respond, Steve slammed a chunk of scrap metal against the side of the car with a loud clang , making both boys jump.

“ Hey! Dickheads! ” Steve barked, “How come the only ones actually helping me are Max and Keys?” He gestured toward them, exasperated.

Lucas and Dustin exchanged dumbfounded glances, clearly realizing too late that they’d been slacking.

Steve sighed, rubbing his temple, “We lose light in forty minutes. Hurry up!”

“ All right, asshole! ” Dustin groaned, reluctantly following Steve.

“ Okay! Stupid… ” Lucas muttered under his breath, trailing close behind.

With the whole group finally working, they reinforced the abandoned bus, securing it with scrap metal. They placed a ladder inside, leading up to the fire escape hatch on the roof, and laid out a trail of petrol to set the Demogorgon-thing ablaze.

By the time the sun had set, Lucas was stationed on the roof with his binoculars, scanning the area for Dart. The fog made it nearly impossible to see anything clearly, but that didn’t stop him from trying.

Inside the bus, Steve sat on the floor, flicking the lid of his lighter open and shut absentmindedly. Max sat beside him, arms crossed, while Dustin paced nervously nearby. Meanwhile, Keys, who had been tolerant up until now, was shooting daggers at Steve, visibly restraining himself from strangling him if he didn’t stop it with the lighter.

“So, you really fought one of these things before?” Max asked, turning to Steve.

Steve stopped fiddling with his lighter just long enough to nod.

“And you’re, like, totally, 100% sure it wasn’t just a bear?” she added.

Keys exhaled through his nose in relief, thankful Steve had stopped flicking his lighter — only to chuckle quietly to himself as he muttered, “Slimy bear…” thinking back to Dart’s disgusting, shed skin.

“Shit, don’t be an idiot, okay? It wasn’t a bear,” Dustin snapped, turning to face Max, “Why are you even here if you don’t believe us? Just go home.”

Max’s eyes widened slightly, caught off guard. “Jeez… Someone’s cranky. Past your bedtime?” she grumbled before climbing up the ladder to join Lucas.

Keys turned to Dustin with a mocking smirk. “Yeah, that’s good. Just really show her you don’t care.”

“I don’t care,” Dustin huffed, arms crossed.

“Sure, sure,” Steve chuckled, grinning, “Totally not playing hard to get.” He shot Dustin an exaggerated wink.

Dustin groaned, “Why are you winking, Steve? Stop. ”

Steve just shrugged and, without missing a beat, went right back to flicking his lighter.

Keys clenched his jaw. “Steve, I swear to God , if you don’t stop, I’m gonna hit you.”

Steve smirked, flicking the lid one more time before Keys reached over and slammed his hand down over the lighter, preventing him from using it.

“Ooooh,” Steve teased, leaning in with a grin. “ Someone’s cranky. Past your bedtime?” he echoed Max mockingly.

Keys rolled his eyes. “Great. I’m gonna go insane. Love that for me.”

A familiar, guttural roar echoed through the scrapyard, sending a chill down Steve’s spine. He shot up from where he sat, and before he even realized it, he and Dustin were already at the window, eyes scanning the foggy night for any sign of Dart. Keys stood up as well but didn’t dare look, his hands gripping the edge of a seat like it could somehow protect him.

“You see him?” Dustin asked, voice hushed but urgent.

“No,” Steve muttered, shaking his head.

“Lucas! What’s going on?” Dustin called up to the roof.

“Hold on!” Lucas shouted back. A tense silence stretched for a few seconds before his voice came again, sharper this time—“I’ve got eyes! Ten o’clock!”

“Oh my God, it’s happening,” Keys mumbled, more to himself than anyone else.

“There,” Steve pointed, guiding Dustin’s gaze toward a shadowy figure moving through the scrapyard. It was Dart, unmistakable even through the fog. But something was off — Dart wasn’t lunging for the meat they had laid out. He wasn’t even looking for it. He was just wandering , moving without purpose, like something had turned him off .

“What’s he doing?” Dustin asked, brows furrowed.

“I don’t know…” Steve admitted, eyes narrowing, “Why isn’t he taking the bait?”

“Maybe he’s not hungry?” Dustin suggested with a shrug.

“Or maybe he’s craving human flesh,” Keys muttered under his breath, already looking like he desperately wants to go home.

Steve exhaled sharply, backing away from the window. “Maybe he’s just sick of cow,” he said, tossing the idea out like it was no big deal.

Dustin and Keys barely had time to register his words before Steve abruptly turned toward the door.

“Steve? Steve, what are you doing? ” Dustin asked, his concern rising fast.

Keys instantly knew where this was going. His stomach dropped. “No, no, no! Don’t you fucking dare, dumbass!”

“Just get ready,” Steve said ominously, tossing Dustin the lighter before pushing the bus door open, bat in hand.

Dustin and Keys both gawked as he stepped out.

Keys lunged, trying to grab Steve’s arm to pull him back, but it was too late—Steve was already outside, moving further from the bus with slow, deliberate steps. Keys shut the door, knowing he was far too scared to leave the bus to try to drag Steve back in.

“What the hell is he doing?!” Max had climbed down from the roof and now sat next to Dustin, eyes wide as she watched Steve through the window.

“Expanding the menu,” Dustin muttered, eyes fixed on Steve’s lone figure.

“Please don’t say that about my brother,” Keys snapped, his voice strained, “like he’s some kind of… sacrifice. ”

The night air hit Steve like a wall. Cold, damp, suffocating. The door creaked too loudly as it swung shut behind him.

He was alone.

Fog curled around his ankles, swallowing the sound of his own footsteps. The silence clawed at his ears — because it wasn’t really silent. It was thick with the wrong kind of quiet. The kind that told you something was watching.

Steve rolled his shoulders, exhaling through his nose. He swung the bat lightly, testing the weight.

A chittering sound slithered through the darkness.

He whistled. Low. Sharp.

“C’mon, buddy,” Steve called out, voice taunting, “Dinner time.”

From the bus, Keys, Max, and Dustin watched through the window, frozen.

“He’s insane, ” Max whispered.

“He’s awesome, ” Dustin corrected, admiration clear in his voice.

“He’s a fucking idiot, ” Keys muttered, gripping the wire covering the window so hard his knuckles turned white.

Steve saw it then.

Dart.

Standing completely still .

The fog curled around the creature’s slick, slimy skin. Its faceless head twitched slightly, like it was listening and studying him . Even without eyes, it felt like Dart was seeing him. Steve frowned.

It didn’t move.

Didn’t lunge.

Didn’t react.

It just watched.

It was unsettling as hell.

Steve swallowed thickly.

Then—

“Steve, watch out! ” Lucas’s scream ripped through the air.

Steve flinched , but didn’t take his eyes off Dart. “Little busy here!”

“ Three o’clock! Three o’clock! ”

Something in Lucas’s voice made Steve turn .

And his stomach dropped.

Another baby Demogorgon.

And another.

They had him surrounded.

Shit.

“STEVE!” Dustin yelled, jumping away from the window. Keys was right behind him, fumbling to open the bus’s door.

“ Abort! Abort! ” Dustin screamed.

“ Run! ” Keys yelled, voice cracking, “For the love of God, run! ”

The moment the words left his mouth, the baby Demogorgons pounced.

Steve barely dodged , instincts kicking in as he dove onto the hood of an abandoned car — something he was fairly certain only happened in films until this exact moment. Claws swiped through the air where he had just been standing. A snarl. A snap.

Steve rolled onto his feet, gripping the bat tight, just as one of the creatures lunged—

He swung .

The bat cracked against the monster’s flesh. A wet, sickening thud . It staggered back, screeching, thick, dark fluid oozing from the punctures.

But there were more .

Too many.

“STEVE, HURRY! ” Max yelled from the bus door, her hands clenched into fists.

“RUN!” Lucas shouted before practically throwing himself down the ladder and into the bus.

Steve didn’t need to be told twice. He bolted for the bus, the mini-gorgons shrieking behind him, as they gave chase. Their sales scraped against the mud. Their snarls ripped through the air.

Steve ran like his life depended on it — because it did .

He leapt through the open door, slamming it shut just in time. He hit the ground hard, the impact rattled through his bones. Scrambling backward as the creatures began ramming into the metal with terrifying force. Steve dug his heels in, using his feet to brace the door shut.

The monsters outside screeched, their claws scraping against the bus walls, trying to tear their way inside. The entire bus shook with every hit.

“Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit! ” Keys chanted, one hand gripping Steve’s shoulder like he was checking to make sure he was still alive, the other clenched into a fist. His eyes were locked on the rattling door, his breath shaky, terror written all over his pale face.

“They’re not stopping !” Lucas’s voice pitched in panic.

“Are they rabid or something?!” Max shrieked, still trying to wrap her head around the fact that she was witnessing real-life monsters .

Steve didn’t waste time answering. He grabbed a sheet of scrap metal and shoved it against the door. It held — until the creatures outside slammed into it again. The metal buckled.

Then—

A claw burst through the gap in the door.

They all screamed.

Steve yanked his legs back before they could get shredded. Losing his feet wasn’t exactly on his bucket list.

“Shit!” Dustin screeched, scrambling further into the bus. He grabbed his walkie-talkie, fingers fumbling as he tried to turn it on.

Lucas and Max dove behind seats on opposite sides of the bus, pressing their backs against them and ducking like it could protect them.

“ Keys! ” Steve barked, swinging the bat, smashing the claws as they groped blindly through the opening, “ Keep your eye on the kids! ”

Keys snapped out of his panic, nodding frantically as he ran to stand between Lucas and Max.

Dustin mashed the button on the walkie-talkie, practically screaming into it. “ Is anyone there?! Mike?! Will?! GOD?! ANYONE?! ”

The Demogorgons screeched outside, throwing their entire weight against the bus, metal groaning under the strain as their claws scraped and banged against it.

The reinforcements wouldn’t last much longer.

And help wasn’t coming fast enough.

Suddenly, the bus lurched , razor-sharp claws ripped through the side of the bus, inches from Dustin’s head. Dustin let out a strangled yelp, stumbling back. Max screamed , throwing herself away from the tearing metal.

“Shit—shit— shit! ” Keys yanked Dustin by the collar, shoving both Dustin and Max toward the opposite side of the bus as another set of claws raked through the wall.

Heart hammering, breathing hard, Keys grabbed whatever layers of scraps of metal he could find and slammed them over the gash in the bus wall. His arms burned as he braced against the shaking structure, his own body the only thing holding the weak barricade in place. Sweat dripped down his back, but he refused to let go. If those things got through, he’d be the first to die , and then they’d get Steve and the kids.

The screeches outside were getting louder .

They knew they were inside.

And they were trying to get in .

Max clung to the ladder like it was a damn lifeline, her fingers locked around the metal in a white-knuckle grip, like sheer grip strength could save her.

“We’re at the old junkyard, and we’re gonna die! ” Dustin shrieked into the walkie-talkie, now curled up on the seat that Lucas as still hiding behind.

As Dustin frantically called for help, Max’s eyes flicked upward, her stomach twisting as she noticed something horrifying—

The roof was denting.

Something was above them.

Max’s breath hitched. Her eyes slowly flickered up the ladder—

And her blood ran cold .

A baby Demogorgon clung to the other side. Its gaping, tooth-filled maw was split open , strings of thick saliva dripping onto the metal below. Even without eyes , she knew it was staring at her.

She screamed .

Not a startled yelp.

Not a panicked gasp.

A raw, terrified, from-the-gut scream.

She could see it now. The truth.

This wasn’t a story.

This wasn’t bullshit.

There were monsters . Real monsters.

And they were completely surrounded .

“ Out of the way! Out of the way! ” Steve’s voice boomed through the chaos, snapping her out of her paralysed terror.

Before Max could process what was happening, Steve had shoved her aside away from the monster — right into Lucas, who barely caught her.

Steve took her place, bat raised high.

“You want some, huh?!” he taunted, his voice sharp, controlled, but pumped with adrenaline, “Come get this!”

The monster snarled, its clawed hands flexing, preparing to lunge—

But then…

It stopped.

Its head twitched .

Then, with zero warning , it turned — and bolted into the fog.

The distant shrieks outside began to fade .

The ones at the door… left.

Like something had called them away.

Max and Lucas remained frozen, their ragged breathing the only sound inside the bus. Then, all at once, they both realized—

They were holding hands.

Flushing, they immediately let go , stuffing their hands into their pockets like it never happened.

Steve, still breathing hard, cautiously reached for the bus door. “Jeez—!” He yelped as the damaged door broke off completely the second he touched it, crashing to the ground with a metallic clang. He winced, still high on adrenaline. Steve hesitated before stepping outside, bat tight in his grip. His breath curled in the cold air.

He scanned the scrapyard, ready for anything .

But…

The monsters were gone. The last of them were nothing but shadows, retreating into the fog.

“What… happened?” Lucas asked hesitantly, creeping toward the doorway.

“I don’t know…” Max admitted, hesitating just as much.

“Steve scared ‘em off?” Dustin suggested, peeking cautiously around the corner.

“No.” Steve exhaled, resting the bat against his shoulder. His expression was hard, eyes fixed on the darkness ahead, “They’re going somewhere.”

Keys, still shaking, shoved past the kids and grabbed Steve’s arm, his other hand clutching his own chest like he was physically holding his heart in place. His breathing was uneven, his face pale.

“ Oh my fucking God… ” Keys wheezed, gripping Steve tightly , “ Don’t ever do anything like that again… ”

Steve blinked at him, startled by how genuinely terrified he looked.

After a moment, he patted Keys’ hand—awkward, unsure—before shifting his brother’s hand gently off him.

“C’mon,” Steve said, turning to the others. His voice was steady now, filled with a quiet determination. He nodded toward the direction the monsters had fled.

“Let’s go.”

Steve and Dustin walked at the front, their torches cutting through the thick, creeping fog. Lucas and Max stayed in the middle, whispering between themselves, while Keys trailed behind, constantly glancing over his shoulder like he expected something to lunge out of the darkness at any second.

“You’re positive that was Dart?” Lucas questioned, disbelief thick in his voice.

“Yes! He had the same exact yellow pattern on his butt,” Dustin insisted.

Steve and Keys both shot him a look.

“You know what his butt looks like?” Steve asked, brows raised.

Keys wrinkled his nose. “Man, that’s weird. Even for you.”

Dustin ignored them.

“He was tiny two days ago.” Max exclaimed.

“Well, he’s molted three times already,” Dustin explained, voice a little too defensive.

Max groaned, “Jesus, how many more times is he gonna do that?”

“It’s gotta be soon,” Dustin answered. “And when he does, he’ll be fully grown. Or close to it. So will his friends.”

“Yeah, and he’s gonna be eating a lot more than just cats ,” Steve muttered.

“Wait— a cat?! ” Lucas suddenly yelped, running ahead and grabbing Dustin’s arm, effectively stopping everyone in their tracks. His face twisted with horror. “Dart ate a cat?!”

“No! What? No! ” Dustin blurted out— terrible at lying.

“What are you talking about? He ate Mews.” Steve said without thinking .

Dustin’s entire body stiffened.

Lucas blinked. “Mews? Who’s Mews?” Max asked, her voice cautious, like she already knew she wouldn’t like the answer.

“It’s Dustin’s cat—”

“ Steve! ” Dustin hissed , glaring at him.

But the damage was done.

“I knew it!” Lucas exploded, shaking Dustin’s shoulders, “You kept him! ”

“No!” Dustin tried, his voice cracking. “No, I… I—He missed me! He wanted to come home! I didn’t know he was a Demogorgon, okay?”

“Oh, now you admit it?” Lucas snapped.

“Guys, who cares?! We have to go! ” Max tried, exasperated.

“I care!” Lucas shouted, throwing his arms in the air. “You put the party in jeopardy ! You broke the rule of law! ”

“Oh, so did you! ” Dustin shot back.

“What?” Lucas squeaked, voice jumping an octave.

“You told a stranger the truth! ” Dustin accused, shining his torch directly in Max’s face.

“A stranger? ” Max scoffed, shoving his torch away, “Excuse me?! ”

“Can we calm down? ” Keys tried, rubbing his temples, “There are monsters and shit—”

“You wanted to tell her too!” Lucas interrupted, ignoring Keys’ comment entirely, “And you got Keys involved!”

“That was an accident! ” Dustin defended, “We both broke the rule of law, okay? So we’re even! ”

Steve barely processed their arguing any more. Something was wrong.

A sound cut through the fog—low, and guttural.

His grip tightened around the bat.

His torch beam whipped in the direction of the noise.

“ No, no! We’re not even! Don’t even try that!” Lucas snapped, “Your stupid pet could’ve eaten us for dinner! ”

“That was not my fault!” Dustin yelled, “He wasn’t gonna eat us! ”

“Hey, guys…” Steve said, trying to get their attention.

“Oh, so he was crawling over to say hello?! ” Lucas shouted.

“ Guys! ” Steve barked , finally getting them to shut up.

The kids froze.

Steve’s torch beam stayed locked on the trees ahead, scanning. Searching.

Another screech. Further away now.

His stomach twisted.

Without another word, he moved.

Lucas and Dustin scrambled after him, immediately following.

“Hey, guys? Why are we going toward the sound?” Max called.

Keys shivered violently. “Seems stupid , but it’s better than being alone when there’s monsters …”

Max opened her mouth, then closed it.

“…That’s… true…” she muttered.

She and Keys exchanged a look before sprinting after the rest of the group.

They walked fast, only stopping when they reached the edge of the cliff.

The air was thick with fog, rolling in heavy waves over the trees. Below, not even the distant glow of house lights cut through the dark.

“I don’t see anything,” Dustin murmured.

Lucas pulled out his binoculars, scanning the horizon. He adjusted the focus, and—

“It’s the lab…” he said, voice hollow, “They’re going home…”

They painstakingly made their way down the cliffside, careful not to slip on the loose dirt. The cold night air biting at their faces. The descent was slow, each step cautious, and every snapped twig beneath their feet made Steve’s grip on his bat tighter . Once they reached the bottom, they barely had time to catch their breath before pushing through the bushes ahead.

The further they went, the thicker the woods became, branches clawing at their jackets. Then—voices. Familiar voices.

Shoving past the last of the tangled branches, Steve froze .

“Steve?” Nancy and Jonathan said in unison, just as surprised to see him.

“Nancy?” Steve blurted out.

“Jonathan?” Dustin echoed, looking just as confused.

“Oh, so that’s who—” Keys started, eyes widening slightly as he connected the names to last year’s drama—the one that involved Steve, some spray paint, and some really unfortunate word choices. He didn’t get to finish his thought before the conversation picked up speed.

Nancy’s eyes flicked between them. “What are you guys doing here?” She asked, brows furrowing.

Steve raised a brow. “What are you doing here?”

“We’re looking for Mike and Will,” Nancy answered, her breath visible in the cold air.

Dustin stiffened . His head snapped toward the looming lab in the distance. “They’re not in there , are they?” His voice wavered.

Nancy hesitated. “We’re not sure.”

Jonathan’s posture straightened, his voice sharper. “Why?”

Before anyone could answer—

A piercing, inhuman screech tore through the air.

The sound came from inside the lab.

The group froze .

Steve’s pulse spiked, feeling the blood drain from his face.

Shit.

Nancy and Jonathan hurriedly explained—the lab had lost power. The gates were locked , and no one knew where Mike and Will were.

Not ideal.

Panic swelled, and soon, everyone was talking over each other, trying to figure out what the hell to do.

“The power’s back!” Nancy suddenly shouted.

No hesitation.

They sprinted toward the entrance, stopping at the control panel. Jonathan smashed the ‘OPEN GATE’ button over and over, but nothing happened.

“Come on, come on! ” Jonathan gritted his teeth, hitting the button harder, like that would fix it .

“Let me try,” Dustin insisted.

“No! If it didn’t work for me, it won’t work for you!” Jonathan snapped.

“Just let me try! ” Dustin whined, forcing his way in front of Jonathan.  He started clicking the button over and over—nothing.

“ Son of a bitch! ” Dustin growled, smashing the button even harder .

Then—

Click.

The gate lurched open.

Nancy and Jonathan didn’t hesitate. They jumped back into their car and sped off toward the lab.

Now, all they could do was wait .

The seconds stretched into minutes, each one longer than the last. Adrenaline had kept them going , but now that it was wearing off, the weight of it all settled in. The cold. The fear. The sinking realization that whatever was happening in that lab was so much worse than any of them had imagined.

“Guys,” Max said, voice tight.

Steve turned to her—and followed her gaze.

A pair of headlights.

Jonathan’s car was coming back.

Fast.

“Shit, guys, move! ” Steve shouted, yanking Dustin and Max out of the road. At the same time, Keys grabbed Lucas and pulled him backward.

Jonathan’s car flew past them , missing them by inches.

That was definitely not a good sign.

Then—another set of headlights.

Hopper’s police cruiser skidded to a stop in front of them.

The Chief looked wrecked . His body slumped from exhaustion, but his eyes —his mind —were sharp, locked in.

“ Let’s go! ” Hopper barked.

No hesitation.

They piled into the car, their hearts pounding, dread sitting heavy in the pit of their stomachs.

Whatever had happened in that lab—

It was bad.

Chapter Text

The Byers' house looked more like a war room than a home. Every inch of the walls was covered in frantic, overlapping drawings—maps of the tunnels sprawling like veins across the paper. The atmosphere was thick with tension, the air heavy with exhaustion and fear.

Hopper had given them the rundown in the bluntest way possible—Will was possessed (somehow), the baby Demogorgons had massacred everyone at the lab, Bob had been killed , and they had no idea what to do next.

Now, the house was filled with restless energy. Hopper yelled into the phone, his voice sharp with frustration. Jonathan sat beside an unconscious Will, stroking his hair, murmuring things too quiet for anyone else to hear. Keys paced anxiously, his arms crossed so tight it looked like he was holding himself together.

The kids sat in tense silence at the table. Steve stood near them, leaning against the wall, watching Hopper’s conversation crumble into more frustration.

Then— slam .

Hopper hung up the phone hard , his jaw clenched.

“They didn’t believe you, did they?” Dustin asked, though it wasn’t really a question.

“We’ll see,” Hopper replied, the irritation still fresh in his voice.

“We’ll see?” Mike scoffed, his patience wearing thin, “We can’t just sit here while those things are loose!”

“We stay here,” Hopper said, his tone final, “And we wait for help.”

With that, he turned and stalked down the hallway toward Joyce’s room. No one tried to stop him.

Nobody could blame her for locking herself away. She had barely spoken since stepping out of Jonathan’s car—after watching Bob, her boyfriend, get ripped apart in that lab. After hearing that her son was no longer just her son.

The Byers really can’t get a goddamn break, can they?

A thick silence settled over the room.

Mike, unable to sit still, wandered over to the coffee table. Something caught his eye. He picked up a puzzle resting on a pile of games, tracing his fingers over it absentmindedly.

“Did you guys know that Bob was the original founder of Hawkins AV?” he asked solemnly.

Dustin shook his head. “Really?” Lucas frowned.

Max said nothing, absently picking at the edge of the table.

“He petitioned the school to start it and everything,” Mike continued, “Then he had a fundraiser for equipment. Mr. Clarke learned everything from him. Pretty awesome, right?”

Mike walked back toward the group, gripping the puzzle like it was something fragile .

“Yeah…” Dustin and Lucas echoed, quieter now.

Steve had never met Bob, but something about it stung . A guy who just wanted to help people, who had no clue what kind of nightmare he was stepping into, was now gone .

Mike set the puzzle down on the table, his expression hardening. “We can’t let him die in vain.”

Dustin’s head snapped up. “What do you want to do, Mike?” His voice was sharper than usual, frustration bubbling over, “The Chief’s right on this. We can’t stop those Demo-dogs on our own.”

“Demo-dogs?” Max repeated, raising a brow.

“Demogorgon… dogs.” Dustin clapped his hands together and made an explosion sound. “ Demo-dogs . It’s a compound . A play on words—”

Steve sighed before his eyes landed on Mike’s unimpressed glare and Max’s deeply disgusted expression.

Yeah.

This was going to be a long night.

“I mean, when it was just Dart, maybe …” Dustin started but trailed off.

“But there’s an army now,” Keys cut in, finally stopping his anxious pacing. He walked over to the table, placing his hands on the surface as if grounding himself.

“ His army,” Mike murmured, his eyebrows shooting up as something clicked in his head.

Steve narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean?” he asked warily, already getting the feeling that Mike was about to suggest something insane .

Mike’s eyes lit up with sudden realization. “His army ! Maybe — maybe if we stop him , we can stop his army too!”

Lucas and Dustin exchanged a look, both clearly unsure if they were following Mike’s logic. Before anyone could say anything, Mike bolted out of the room.

Steve was about to yell at him to slow down when he reappeared just as fast, clutching one of Will’s drawings. It was black and white, chaotic and messy, depicting a massive , unnatural spider-like creature looming over Hawkins.

Dustin’s stomach dropped. “The Shadow Monster …” he breathed.

Keys, still standing at the table, exhaled sharply. “How many monsters are there?” he muttered, though he really didn’t want an answer.

“It got Will that day on the field,” Mike said, his voice tight with urgency, “The doctor said it was like a virus —it infected him.”

“And this virus… it’s connecting him to the tunnels?” Max asked, leaning in.

Mike nodded. “To the tunnels, the monsters, the Upside Down— everything! ” He jabbed a finger at the drawing. “The Shadow Monster is inside everything. And if the vines feel pain—so does Will.”

Lucas snapped his fingers. “And so does Dart! ” he added. “Like what Mr. Clarke taught us—the hive mind .”

“The what?” Steve asked, already feeling lost.

“Hive mind. A collective consciousness ,” Dustin explained, his voice gaining back some of its usual enthusiasm, “It’s a super-organism .”

“And this thing—” Mike pointed again at the monstrous figure in the drawing. “It’s the brain .”

“Like the Mind Flayer !” Dustin suddenly blurted out, eyes wide.

Lucas snapped his fingers again, pointing at Dustin in agreement.

Mike looked between them, the name clicking in his head.

Steve, Keys, and Max looked at each other, completely out of the loop.

“What?” they all asked in unison.

Dustin sprinted out of the room and quickly returned with a book— and Nancy and Jonathan in tow. He slammed the Dungeons & Dragons manual onto the table, flipping to a page with an eerie, tentacled creature.

Hopper walked in just in time to see it. “What the hell is that?” he asked, arms crossed.

“A monster from an unknown dimension,” Dustin explained, barely containing his excitement, “It’s so ancient, it doesn’t even know its true home. It enslaves other races by taking over their brains using its highly-developed psionic powers—”

“Oh, my God ,” Hopper cut in, rubbing his temple, “This is a game .”

“It’s a manual ,” Dustin snapped, pointing at him, “And unless you know something we don’t, this is the best metaphor—”

“ Analogy .” Lucas corrected, raising an eyebrow.

Dustin gritted his teeth. “ Analogy… For whatever the hell we’re dealing with!”

Nancy exhaled sharply. “Okay, so this Mind Flayer —what does it want ?”

“To conquer us, basically,” Dustin said flatly, “It sees itself as the master race .”

“Like the Germans?” Steve stammered.

Dustin turned to him, eyes narrowing. “The Nazis ?”

Steve nodded awkwardly. Hopper looked like he wanted to be anywhere else.

“If the Nazis were from another dimension , then yeah, sure,” Dustin continued, “It spreads, takes over other worlds, consumes everything.”

“We’re talking about the destruction of our world,” Lucas emphasized.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Steve groaned, dragging a hand down his face.

“That’s great. That’s really great ,” Keys muttered, pacing in tight circles, “Jesus…”

Nancy picked up the book, skimming it. “So if it’s the brain —if we kill it…”

“We kill everything it controls,” Mike finished.

“We win ,” Dustin added.

“Theoretically,” Lucas corrected.

“Great,” Hopper deadpanned, snatching the book from Nancy, “So how do we kill it? Shoot it with fireballs?”

Dustin chuckled, but his confidence wavered under Hopper’s unimpressed stare, “Uh… no. In the game, you summon an undead army, because, you know… zombies. No brains.”

Keys groaned, rubbing his face. “This is so fucking stupid.”

Hopper dropped the book onto the table with a loud thud . “What the hell are we doing here?”

“I thought we were waiting for your military backup,” Dustin said, his sass back in full force.

“We are! ” Hopper snapped.

“Even if they show up, how the hell are they gonna stop this?” Mike argued, gesturing wildly, “You can’t just shoot this thing with guns!”

“You don’t know that! We don’t know anything! ” Hopper shot back, frustration clear.

“We know it already killed everyone in that lab!” Mike countered.

“And we know the monsters are gonna molt again,” Lucas added.

“We know it’s only a matter of time before those tunnels reach town,” Dustin finished.

“And we all become their dinner,” Keys muttered, not helping in the slightest.

A heavy silence settled over the room—until Joyce spoke.

“They’re right.”

Everyone turned. Nobody had even noticed her leave her room, but there she was, eyes red, voice raw. “We have to kill it. I want to kill it. ”

Hopper’s face softened as he stepped toward her. “Me too, Joyce. Okay? But how do we do that? We still don’t know what we’re dealing with.”

“No,” Mike cut in, his mind racing, “But he does.”

Everyone looked at him.

“If anyone knows how to destroy this thing, it’s Will,” Mike explained, “He’s connected to it. He’ll know its weakness.”

Max frowned. “I thought we couldn’t trust him any more? That he’s a spy for the Mind Flayer now?”

“Yeah,” Mike admitted, eyes sharp with determination, “But he can’t spy if he doesn’t know where he is.”

Hopper and Mike went outside to check if the shed would work—which it would. They wasted no time clearing it out, dumping everything inside onto the lawn. Once that was done, tasks were handed out:

Nancy and Steve would disguise the shed to make it look less like a shed. Dustin, Lucas, and Keys were stuck digging through the rubbish for anything useful (a punishment from Hopper for arguing too much, with Keys roped in as their reluctant supervisor). Mike and Max were on house duty, searching for anything that might help. Jonathan and Joyce were outside, stripping clothes off the line and untying it for later. Hopper was inside, gathering the brightest lights he could find.

Steve worked quietly, stapling a tarp to the wall while Nancy wrestled with a roll of duct tape, struggling to find the end. The silence between them was thick, awkward in a way neither wanted to acknowledge.

Finally, Nancy bit her lip, stealing a glance at him. “Hey… what you did? Helping the kids? That was really cool.”

Steve let out a short chuckle, still focused on stapling, “Yeah, well. Those little shits are real trouble, you know?”

Nancy smirked. “Believe me, I know.” She finally got the tape unstuck and stepped closer to help.

By the time they finished, the shed was barely recognizable, covered in layers of tarp, tape, and scraps of random junk. They left to join Keys and the kids inside as Jonathan gently carried Will to a chair covered in cardboard, securing him with the clothesline. Joyce stood nearby, filling a syringe with sedatives in case things went south.

Hopper plugged in the lights, their bulbs positioned to face Will.

Mike didn’t move. He just stood there, watching his best friend as they set everything up—knowing this was their only shot.

Dustin stared out the window, eyes locked on the shed. Across the room, Nancy did the same, arms crossed tightly over her chest. Steve, restless, practised swinging his bat in slow, deliberate arcs, the weight of it familiar in his hands. Keys watched him, but for once, didn’t have a smart comment.

In the hallway, Lucas sat with his back against the wall, Max opposite him, knees pulled up to her chest. The silence was suffocating.

“If he finds out where we are…” Max finally whispered, breaking the stillness, “Will he send those things after us?”

“He won’t find out,” Lucas said, voice firm, like saying it with enough certainty could make it true.

“Yeah, but… if he does ?” she pressed, eyes flickering with worry.

Lucas hesitated for a fraction of a second. Then, flatly: “Judgment day.”

Before Max could respond, the lights flickered.

All at once, the group snapped to attention, rushing to the window. The glow of the shed lights pulsed erratically. Then—just as suddenly—they stopped.

No one spoke. They knew what it meant.

The wait felt like hours before Hopper, Mike, Jonathan, and Joyce finally burst through the door. They went straight to the table, their expressions grim. The rest of the group followed.

“What happened?” Dustin asked, his voice tight with worry.

“I think he’s talking,” Hopper said, grabbing a pen and paper, scrawling a quick series of lines and dots, “Just… not with words.”

Steve frowned. “What is that?”

“Morse code,” everyone answered in unison.

Steve blinked. Normally, he would’ve found that kind of thing creepy. But right now, there were bigger things to worry about.

Hopper squinted at the paper, muttering the translation under his breath, “H-E-R-E.”

He looked up.

“Will’s still in there. He’s talking to us.”

Jonathan, Hopper, Joyce, and Mike left again soon after, leaving the rest of them with a single task—decode the message.

Hopper clicked the button on the walkie every time Will tapped against the side of the chair, while Dustin, Max, Lucas, Nancy, and Keys huddled around a translation sheet.

“Dash, dot, dash, dot,” Dustin mumbled, ears trained on the static-filled transmission.

“Yeah, got it,” Keys confirmed, dragging his finger down the sheet before landing on the right letter.

“C!” Max and Lucas exclaimed in unison, and Nancy quickly scribbled it onto the paper.

They worked in tense silence, repeating the pattern, checking and double-checking, until finally—

“Close gate,” Max read aloud.

The words barely had time to settle before the phone rang.

A sharp, piercing sound that made every muscle in their bodies lock up, slicing through the room like a gunshot.

Dustin bolted toward it. “Shit, shit, shit!” He ripped the receiver off the hook and slammed it down.

Silence.

Another ring.

Nancy didn’t hesitate—she lunged for the phone, yanking it straight out of the wall and hurling it down the hallway.

For a few heartbeats, no one moved. No one breathed.

“Do you think he heard that?” Max whispered.

“It’s just a phone,” Steve reasoned, gripping his bat a little tighter, “It could be anywhere, right?”

But the moment the words left his mouth, a familiar, inhuman screech tore through the night.

Long, guttural screeches, rising and overlapping in a discordant symphony of hunger.

Dustin's stomach dropped. “They heard us.” He approached the window, Max and Lucas close behind.

“That’s not good…” Keys exhaled, his face pale.

The front door burst open, and Jonathan, Joyce, and Mike rushed back inside, their faces confirming what everyone already knew.

“They’re coming,” Mike gasped.

Hopper stormed in behind them, carrying two guns—one stolen, one from the Byers’ house.

“Hey! Get away from the windows!” he barked.

Max, Dustin, and Lucas immediately scrambled back.

He turned to Jonathan, thrusting a gun toward him. “Do you know how to use this?”

Jonathan hesitated.

“I can,” Nancy said, stepping forward.

Hopper tossed her the gun without a second thought.

Steve shifted in front of the kids, bat raised, heart pounding. Hopper and Nancy took position, guns aimed at the doors and windows, their fingers tense on the triggers. Jonathan and Joyce stood behind Nancy, bracing for whatever was coming. Keys stood behind Hopper, wielding a pen like it was a knife, knowing it would do jack shit.

Outside, the howls grew louder.

Closer.

A sound like thunder in the distance, gaining on them.

“Where are they?” Max’s voice was small, laced with terror, but no one answered.

The screeches turned deafening.

And then—

Silence.

The sudden lack of sound was worse.

Steve’s breath was loud in his ears.

The others held still, listening. Waiting.

A split second of relief.

Then—

CRASH!

Glass exploded inward as a lifeless Demodog slammed through the window, its body landing with a sickening, wet thud in the middle of the room.

Screams filled the air.

Steve staggered back, heart hammering in his chest.

The body twitched before it stopped completely.

Max clapped a hand over her mouth.

Dustin took an unsteady step closer. “Holy shit…”

A slow, agonizing creak filled the room.

Everyone’s head whipped toward the front door.

The lock slid free on its own.

The chain rattled loose.

The handle twisted.

The door swung open.

Beyond the threshold stood a girl.

Dark, slicked-back hair.

Black eyeshadow.

Blood dripping from her nose.

Weapons were lowered in an instant.

Then Mike let out a strangled sound—somewhere between a sob and a breath—and ran straight for her, pulling her into a desperate hug.

Steve and Keys stood frozen, watching the emotional reunion unfold with identical expressions of confusion.

“Is that…?” Max started, staring at the girl in the doorway.

Dustin and Lucas both nodded, still looking like they’d seen a ghost.

“I never gave up on you,” Mike breathed, stepping back from the hug, his face alight with something close to relief, “I called you every night. Every night for—”

“353 days,” the girl finished, “I heard.”

Mike’s smile faltered. “Why didn’t you tell me you were there?”

“Because I wouldn’t let her,” Hopper cut in, stepping forward. His voice was gruff, but there was something unmistakably protective in his posture as he turned to the girl. “The hell is this? Where you been?”

“Where have you been?” Eleven shot back, but her irritation didn’t stop her from letting Hopper pull her into a tight hug.

Steve and Keys exchanged a bewildered look.

“Who the fuck is this?” Keys muttered under his breath, shifting closer to Steve.

“No clue,” Steve admitted, still gripping his bat in case this random kid decided to explode the house or something. Wouldn’t be the weirdest thing that happened tonight.

Their confusion only grew when Mike suddenly turned to Hopper, anger burning in his eyes. “You’ve been hiding her,” he accused, “You’ve been hiding her this whole time!”

Before anyone could stop him, he shoved Hopper hard. The man barely moved.

“Hey!” Hopper barked, his voice rising. “Let’s talk. Alone. ”

Without waiting for permission, he grabbed Mike by the arm and dragged him toward Will’s bedroom, shutting the door behind them.

Steve let out a breath, rubbing a hand over his face. “What the hell was that?”

“Yeah, are we gonna gloss over the fact that Hopper apparently had a random child locked away for a year?” Keys whispered, still watching the girl suspiciously, “And why does she look like she’s about to levitate someone?”

As if on cue, Lucas and Dustin ran up to Eleven and practically tackled her into another hug, both of them grinning.

“Yeah, I’m not getting involved in that,” Steve muttered, already tuning them out.

“Same,” Keys agreed. “I’d rather fight another Demo-dog than unpack whatever the hell that was.”

A familiar voice cleared its throat beside them. Steve and Keys turned to see Jonathan standing there, looking a little less freaked out than they were.

“I, uh… I should probably explain.”

“ Yes, you should,” Keys deadpanned, crossing his arms, “Who is she? Why does she look like a metal band reject? And why does Mike look like he’s about to propose?”

“That’s Eleven,” Jonathan said, nodding toward the girl.

Steve and Keys both felt their eyebrows shoot up their foreheads.

“Wait— that’s Eleven?” Steve asked.

“As in, the Eleven?” Keys added, his expression shifting from confusion to realization.

Jonathan nodded.

Steve let out a quiet, disbelieving laugh, running a hand through his hair, “No shit…”

Keys glanced back at Eleven, his eyes scanning her like he was trying to reconcile the rumours with the real thing. “Huh. I thought she’d be taller”

“Why the fuck did you think she’d be taller?” Steve asked, giving Keys a baffled look, “You knew she’s the same age as the other kids. And they’re short as hell”

“I don’t know!” Keys shot back, throwing up his hands, “Tall people seem more powerful, and she does have powers, so—”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Great. Awesome. Fantastic logic.”

Keys let out a long, exhausted sigh, “You know, I really thought fighting monsters was gonna be the weirdest part of my week. And yet, here we are. ”

“Let’s just hope this is the last weird thing that happens” Jonathan muttered, arms crossed, his expression grim.

“Agreed” Steve said, nodding.

Keys exhaled sharply, rubbing his temples, “I didn’t even consider the possibility of this shit happening again… Goddamn it!”

“Well, isn’t she a beaut,” Kurt whistled, adjusting the focus on his video camera. A deer’s lifeless body lay sprawled across the battered grass, blood pooling beneath it. “Pretty fresh roadkill, too. And it’s a deer? Must’ve fucked up that car.” He chuckled to himself, “Karma’s a bitch, I guess.”

The sudden roar of an engine and tires against asphalt made him glance up.  A car, definitely going over the speed limit, skidded to a stop next to him, its headlines cutting through the night. 

Before Kurt could react, the driver, all coiled aggression and barley-contained rage, stomped towards him. His half-buttoned red shirt hung loose, and his long blonde hair was damp with sweat. Kurt recognized him instantly. Billy Hargrove. The new king of Hawkins High, now that Steve had ditched the throne. Kurt couldn’t fathom giving up a title like that. He would’ve killed for that crown to be on his head.

“Not only am I running around like a headless fucking chicken looking for my dumbass sister,” Billy growled, “but I have to see you ?”

“Wow, I didn’t think my presence was that awful,” Kurt chuckled, shifting uncomfortably.

“Don’t fucking try me right now, Harrington,” Billy spat, leaning in, his jaw clenched tight, “You wanna fight? We can fucking fight.”

Kurt blinked before realization hit. “Ah, I see what’s happening now.”

Billy’s glare darkened. “Yeah? And what the fuck is that?”

“You’ve got me confused with Keys or Steve. Probably Steve. He causes these types of problems.” He waved casually. “I’m Kurt.”

Billy’s expression barely changed, not convinced. “Are you trying to be funny, Steve?” He snapped, grabbing the front of Kurt’s shirt.

“Nope.” Kurt replied, popping the 'p', “One clear difference? Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington would never be caught dead with this haircut.” He pointed to his head.  “The amount of times he’s insulted it is actually horrendous .”

Billy squinted, giving him a once-over, taking in the unfamiliar smirk, the different posture, and most importantly, the choppy greasy hair. With an irritated grunt, he let go of Kurt’s shirt and took a step back, exhaling sharply. “For fuck’s sake.” That’s when his gaze flicked to the dead deer, then to the camera in Kurt’s hands. His nose wrinkled in disgust, but he didn’t comment, just turned toward his car.

“You’re looking for Max?” Kurt called.

Billy froze mid-step. “How do you know her name?”

Kurt shrugged. “I lurk in a lot of places.”

Billy turned back, eyes narrowing. “You know where she is?”

“Well, I assume you’ve already interrogated half the town,” Kurt mused. 

Billy hesitated before exhaling sharply, pretending like he wasn’t desperate. “Asked Mrs. Sinclair,” he said, venom lacing the name, “She said the Wheeler house was the designated hangout, but Mrs. Wheeler claimed she didn’t even know a Max.”

Kurt nodded. “Makes sense. Nancy Wheeler ’s close with Jonathan Byers , right? Wouldn’t be much of a stretch to think Mike and Will are friends. Ergo, Max could be chilling there.”

Billy ran a hand through his hair, considering it. “And the Byers’ house is where exactly?”

Kurt grinned. “I know where everyone lives.” He pulled a pen from his pocket and, without asking, grabbed Billy’s arm and scrawled the address onto his skin. “Like I said— I lurk .”

Billy snatched his arm back the second Kurt finished, shooting him a glare, muttering something under his breath before stomping to his car. No thanks, no acknowledgment—just a rev of the engine as his Camaro sped off.

“What a fucking freak,” Billy muttered, glancing at the writing on his arm.

Kurt turned back to the deer, lifting his camera again. “That went well,” he mused before realizing, “Oh, the camera’s still on!” He zoomed in and refocused the lens on the deer again.

“This baby must’ve been hit by a pretty shit car…” he murmured, crouching down. His fingers brushed over the ground where the blood had smeared. “Maybe even injured the driver…” He grinned.