Chapter Text
“But Tammy Thompson’s a girl?”
He didn’t say anything. His mind was racing. He wanted to not understand, to just frown and move on, to pretend she hadn’t said anything at all. But the truth was Steve already understood what Robin was trying to tell him. He understood all too well.
‘Steve…’ He looked up to see Robin was staring at him, waiting.
‘Oh.’
‘Oh.’ She mimicked.
He should have said something then. He knew he should have. Then. When his bloodstream was riddled with some Russian tranquilliser and he could have blamed whatever rambling words came tumbling from his mouth on that. But he couldn’t. Or didn’t. They felt somewhat the same.
Never in his life would he have expected someone to open up to him, and in a way so personal. And so unfortunately relatable.
‘Holy shit.’
‘Yeah.’ She said, exhaling a heavy breath. ‘Holy shit.’
Steve had always known that he liked girls. He had liked Nancy. He thought he liked Robin. He liked the control of being in charge, being the protector. These last two years had been proof of that. He liked the way their hair framed their faces, and their long lashes and their self-conscious giggles. He liked short skirts and soft skin and the way that, when he leaned down towards them, he could catch a faint whiff of some floral and trendy hair product. He also knew most of those qualities weren’t exclusively attributed to girls. He used Farah Fawcett too. He was allowed to, if no one knew.
Steve had learned, from a young age, that there was nothing inherently wrong with using women’s products. He’d been left alone in a big empty house one too many times to fend off the curiosity of snooping through the cabinets of the Her’s side of the His-and-Her’s sinks in the master en-suit. When he’d first swiped the soft pink bush over his cheek, he’d thought the ground would crack open beneath him, but he opened his eyes and just stared back at his reflection the same as it ever was, just with a small smile. The air con rattled in the silence. His natural blush enhanced the colour. He liked the way he looked and found he could appreciate that in other boys too.
He’d never say it, but sometimes, on the ride to school, he would glance over at Tommy, and watch at the morning sun filtered through the trees shading the road, dappling his best friend’s skin in a mirrorball of golden light. he liked Tommy’s freckles in the same way he liked Robins. He liked Billy’s smile like Nancy’s. He liked their other parts too. The masculine ones. The taut skin over muscle as they scored in the last seconds of practice. The heavy cologne in the locker room. Curt Smith’s smile, heard through his lyrics. Steve bit his lower lip, tasting blood instead of cherries.
Now, sitting in front of him, Robin was telling him she liked Tammy Thompson. Robin liked girls in the same way Steve did. Robin liked girls in the way Steve liked boys. And she had said it out loud. Like it was normal. And it was. The air con rattled in the background, and the floor beneath them stayed decidedly put. Steve had spent the whole summer with Robin, laughing at her goofy jokes and skits. In awe of her streamlined intelligence and her overwhelming awkwardness. He had risked his life for her and, even after this, he’d do it all again. Nothing had changed. Robin was exactly who she’d always been. Who she’d always said she was. He thought about how, back when he was at school, he’d laugh at the loners. He’d call them faggy behind their backs. He’d felt the word swell around his mouth, his chest, his gut. He thought about how the second anyone seemed even remotely queer, he’d lash out. He knew why. He’d always been bitter. He’d grown up knowing what it truly meant to be a loner. To go home to a house, not a home. He wondered what fresh baked bread smelled like. He’d-
‘Steve?’ Robin whispered, shaking. ‘Did you O.D over there?’
He forced a smile. ‘No, just, um…just thinking.’ Technically, it was the truth. His brain was in overdrive. Was he not alone? Could he be not alone? Was that allowed?
Robin kept talking, her nerves spewing verbal diarrhea and he found himself following suit, acting natural. Steve needed to act natural, whatever it takes. He didn’t feel natural - his left eye was weeping from the swell. His breathing rattled. Everything throbbed. He felt stupid. He just wanted to spend as much time with Robin as humanly possible, and now he knew that they were more alike than he could have guessed but he just couldn’t get the words out. He couldn’t seal the deal. Steve never was a closer. The floor was still there. It was cool and wet and he found himself slumping further down against the stall door, proving to himself that the world was not playing tricks on him. It was not the worst thing the world had thrown at him today.
They’re laughing. It hurts. He’s making fun of Tammy like it’s second nature. Like there isn’t a looming weight in his stomach from the way it did somersaults the first time he saw Judd Nelson on the silver screen. The first time he saw Billy swing out of that obnoxious Camaro, all eyes on him. Or something.
And then Dustin bursts in, and Steve blames his lack of confidence on that. There’s always a reason. He doesn’t have time to overthink his love life and his truest sense of self when he’s busy saving the world. And then they’re at the Cerebro. And then back at the mall, it’s all a blur. Steve can still feel the drugs pulsing through his veins as he’s crashing into that car. Sweating for a completely separate reason to those late nights when its driver plagued his dreams. And then all of a sudden, as though the switch to reality is flipped, Billy is dead. Hopelessly, irreversibly dead. Everything feels so much more real. Steve never did find out what cologne he used.
It’s the fourth of July. He thinks of Robin’s freedom as she cries, arms wrapped around Erica like she’s her prized American Girl doll, bruised and beaten, but entirely honest with the world and, more importantly, herself.
Steve swats away the first responders and drives home to a big empty house. He finds his mother’s cabinet. He doesn’t lock the door, he knows no one will set foot in this place again. Steve cries as his hands wade through the drawer of beauty enhancers, and he looks at his reflection in the mirror. The air con rattled as he settled on Certainly Red. The shade matched his blood. The floor did not crack beneath him.
And everything goes back to normal.
*
‘Steve, Steve! Listen to me; please!’ Robin was giving him her signature puppy-dog eyes from her seat across the counter. This was how most days went since the world got back to normal.
Steve had graduated school, and, against the expectations of no one, had not gone to college. He’d told Nancy as much when they were sat, awkward and alone on the edge of their little Thank God The World Hasn’t Ended and We Didn’t Like Starcourt That Much Anyway party at the end of August. Lucas was singing Never Ending Story and Dustin wasn’t happy about it. It was the only thing that seemed to cheer Max up, so there didn’t seem to be an end in sight, as far as Lucas was concerned. Mike was spending all his time with El, and Jonathan was glued to Will’s side. The others seemed wrapped up in consoling Mrs Byers, Which left Nancy and Steve. Always Nancy and Steve.
He’d told her he wasn’t going to college. She consoled him by saying that of course he would have been distracted by all the Upside-Downness of it all. He shouldn’t be so hard on himself for not getting in. He didn’t tell her that he didn’t actually apply, but his fears were proven when her true colours showed and she simply assumed he’d flunked the written portion of the application. Of course she’d think that, compared to literally anyone else in the room, Steve was a bonafide airhead. They’d probably be surprised he even knew that word, but you pick up a lot of interesting words when you spend your free time with a genius kid, and your work hours with a - a whatever Robin would define herself as.
Things didn’t get weird after Robin came out to Steve, he wouldn’t let them. Nothing had changed really, except now he noticed things more. The way she would blush when a pretty girl walked into the Family Video, or how she gravitated towards the men's shirts in the family-run department store. He didn’t mind. He’d walk ahead of her, so it seemed to any outsiders that she was simply following his lead, though he did wish she’d spend more time at the make-up kiosk. Steve stopped wearing his cherry chapstick after the battle at Starcourt. He’d stopped eating cherry ice cream altogether. The taste mixed with blood was not a pleasant one, and it was unlikely he’d forget it any time soon. One evening, after an unplanned movie night, Robin had left her watermelon-flavoured chapstick down the side of Steve’s sofa, and he’d worn it to death, leaving him prodding his pinky into the bottom of the tube, hoping to scoop up some flavour. He’d have to buy a new one soon - maybe he could tell the cashier it was a gift for his girlfriend. Ha. Girlfriend.
Robin groaned again, and it brought him back to the present. A half-hour into their shift they’d decided to flip a Palace Arcade coin to see who got to pick the movies they’d play on the screens across the Family Video all day. Steve had suggested they just take it in turns, but with Robin’s all-or-nothing mentality, as well as her declaring she’d never lost a game of heads and tails, they’d settled it her way. Unsurprisingly, Steve won. It barely mattered, given how quiet the store was during school hours.
He picked Back to the Future. Again. It was fair enough he couldn’t wrap his head around it on his first viewing but for some reason, it didn’t seem to get any easier. When the credits began to roll, he simply smiled smugly at Robin, and rewound the tape before putting it back into the VCR for a second viewing. In true form as designated best friend, He was going to make sure this was the longest shift of her life.
On weekdays, she only worked the afternoons she could get off during her free periods, which benefitted Steve as when September rolled around and Keith left for college, something Steve should probably have done himself, he’d been promoted to ‘Part Time Weekday Floor Supervisor’ - a made up position the manager had originally given to Keith because he was her nephew. Real or not, Steve enjoyed lording it over Robin whenever he could, which just so happened to be all the time.
‘It’s no use getting all hot and bothered Robin,’ He shrugged, partway through the exposition. He was stood across the store, by the fantasy section, restocking from the returns cart. ‘It’s a marketing tactic. Knowing you, you’ll wanna play some artsy film that no one will blink twice at - The Color Blue or whatever - As the most senior member of staff present, I gotta make the executive decision to play the films that sell.’
‘We’re renting, not selling, dumbass.’ Robin threw back. ‘And The Color Purple is a great film. There’s not even any customers in here right now, plus I’ve already finished my algebra homework besides Steve,’ She looked at him seriously, before pulling a faux grimace. ‘I’m bored!’
‘How can you be bored when this is on? What’s not to like?’ He laughed, gesturing to the screen ahead of them. Marty is sitting with his dad in the diner. Steve wonders what his own dad was like when he was a teen.
‘It’s dumb! It’s not making any kind of statement!’ Robin laughed raspily. ‘Films shouldn’t be just stared at mindlessly, they should be saying something. Doing something. Making a change. That’s the purpose of art! Like it or not, Back to the Future is not complex. It coasts.’
Steve grumbled something under his breath in disapprovement. He liked the film’s mindless shenanigans. He didn’t have to think about any worldly apocalypses or alternate dimensions when Michael J Fox was on stage jumping around.
He would have tried harder to think of something better to throw back at Robin, but the phone started to ring. Robin raised her eyebrows with a grin as she turned to pick up the phone, winning the argument. Steve turned his attention back to stocking the shelf, Robin’s conversation drifting into the background.
His eyes glanced back up to the screen, wondering if Robin would be so frustrated with him if his choice of film had included a few more girls. He was more okay with himself now, than he had been in July, or June, or May, or the rest of his life combined. He got to see Robin happier, more comfortable, and that was all that really mattered. He didn’t need to say what he was aloud to feel it. And yeah, maybe there was that ache every time Robin said you wouldn’t understand, but so what? It was too late to tell her. She’d feel like he was keeping secrets. It wasn’t like he was lying, anyway. He did really try with each girl who walked through the door. It wasn’t his fault his heart wasn’t in it.
‘Yup, we have the whole collection-’ He heard Robin say gently into the phone, her tone was different from how she normally talked to customers. ‘I know! All three? Okay, I’ll put them aside for you.’ She laughs gently, and it’s slightly fake. ‘Or I mean, I could just check them out for you? I’ll see you at band practice tommo-’ She cuts herself off as the person on the other end starts talking. ‘Yeah? Well, I’ll leave them behind the counter for you anyway. Have a good time in Lafayette! I’ll see you next week, may the force be wi-’’ The line went dead. She slammed the receiver on the counter, groaned, and then picked it up and slammed it harder, before running her hands into her hair and slumping in her seat. Steve sometimes wished they still had their little You-Suck board, but didn’t think it would be so kind to create one for Robin. It was different for her. It was different for him too just not really.
‘That sounded…’
‘Rough?’ Robin finished his sentence. ‘Yeah, no shit. Not only does the girl of my dreams want to spend as little time with me as possible, but she’s also apparently a huge Star Wars nerd.’
Steve laughed, ‘Man you’ve got really weird taste in girls.’
She sticks her tongue out at him. ‘Says you. Your taste is anything with legs, and you still can’t land a second date.’
He could barely land a first one, but knew she was too kind to say that.
He gazes at her with glazed eyes. It should be easy, telling Robin the way he feels, but it’s not. He doesn’t really even understand it; how he could be buying flowers for Nancy, while dreaming of steamy locker rooms, sweaty tanned skin, and - no. no, he was dead. Steve wanted to hate Billy. He was a terrible person. He was a racist and a child-beater and violent cruel bully who reminded him a little too much of his father. But the way he’d glance at his lips, or shoot a toothy smirk - it had awoken something in Steve that he’d shoved right down to the bottom of his gut, and he wasn’t quite able to get it to go away again. Sometimes Steve would lie awake at night, thankful Billy had died, as it meant that there was truly no way to pursue him - if he had, he’d have got his head caved in for sure. He shook that thought away, guiltily.
Steve had never been called names through school. He’d make sure he’d get there first with the insults, so no one could step to him. He should’ve been knocked down a peg, maybe that would have prepared him better for post-high school post-Upside-Down life. All he really needed was to keep working. He’d save enough money to get a little apartment and move out of his parents' casket of a house, find a nice girl, and settle down with her. He’d get a job in an office somewhere, the white noise of printers and whirl of computers blocking everything else out. Blocking out the okayness of the whir of the air con. He’d been blessed, really, that he liked girls. It meant that if he found the right one, he wouldn’t have to pretend. Except he had found the right girl, only she’d found someone better. And then he found Robin, and she was gay. And that was that.
Steve was holding a copy of some sailor movie with a goofy cartoon anchor on the front. He took one glance at the cover and he was back at the mall. As always. Billy was dead. Hopper was dead. Heather, though he’d only taken her on two dates in junior year, was dead. He shoved the video onto the shelf quickly.
The party were all okay, as Dustin had told him in their weekly phone calls. They didn’t need saving. El and Will and Jonathan were settling into their new life in Lenora. The boy’s had gone to their first Dungeons and Dragons meeting after an extracurriculars fair during the first week of high school. Lucas was trying out for the Basketball squad. Nancy and Robin were preparing to ace their midterms. Steve got invites to Mike’s basement every now and again, but they never really expected him to show, unless Dustin needed a ride. Steve wasn’t needed anymore. They told him as such. He wasn’t their protector. He was just some guy who helped save the world twice. Three times.
He stared through the large storefront window to the parking lot outside. It was slowly beginning to fill as school broke for the day. He wondered if he could catch a smoke before the evening three-to-six rush, when all the kids raided their shelves and vending machines before returning to their homes, never knowing of the horrors that grew beneath their feet only a month ago. Why did it all still hurt so bad?
Steve turned to Robin, but she’d disappeared somewhere off in the back. ‘I’m going for a smoke, Rob - be back in five,’ He called out.
A muffled ‘Just hurry up! I don’t want to get stuck with a line when I gotta start inventory!’ was called back.
Robin always did inventory in exchange for Steve being the one that stayed back and locked up on their shifts - Robin had a life to get back to after all, even if that life did mostly consist of weird artsy film essays and trumpet practice.
He grinned as he opened the front door, the bell chiming. He could barely pass school when it was his only priority, and Robin was coasting with a job and extracurriculars.
No, not coasting.
The early evening air has a slight chill to it. September in Hawkins is pretty nice, Steve muses to himself as he walks around the side of the Family Video for a little privacy, before pulling a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, and lit one up. Inhaling, Steve felt his mind numb slightly. He stared at a billboard across the road. Starcourt Mall. Coming Summer ‘85. He couldn’t get away from it if he wanted to. He thought about Max. He hadn’t seen her since the funeral in July. They’d all gone. Even Lucas. He didn’t know how he felt about that. Billy hated Lucas, had tried to kill him. He wondered how a person could have so much anger that they would want to kill someone. Lucas had gone for Max, they all had. They agreed to meet at the diner the following weekend, but Max never showed. A girl called Cindy made eyes at Steve as she served them shakes and burgers, but he wasn’t interested, given he could still feel the bruising on his ribs and the swell of his black eye, and the knot in his gut that everything was over. Everything was over. Phantom pain, but it hurt all the same.
He wasn’t coping. He didn’t know how. He hated the dark. He hated fireworks and hospitals and the woods. He was suspicious of any food and drink that he hadn’t made himself. He freaked out in elevators. He couldn’t go back to how life was before. With Robin or Nancy or Billy or even Heather. He wasn’t sure he wanted to, but he knew he didn’t want this. Whatever this limbo was that plagued his waking hours, before he fell into restless sleep, unaided by the prescribed meds he refused to take. He missed things too. Stupid things. Beer and parties and the quiet in his head.
He was down to the filter. He stubbed the embers against the brick wall behind him, before taking a few deep breaths and walking back inside. The store was a little busier now. Some kids were giggling about some video in the back corner. Robin looked up at him from her seat at the desk and smiled.