Chapter Text
Steve had a bad feeling, and this wasn’t the first time it had happened.
For as long as he could remember, he had always had hunches. Hunches about events that hadn’t even happened yet but warned him before the shoe could drop. They would never offer him more information than that. He wouldn’t know exactly what would happen, what part of the day it would happen, where it would happen or with whom. It would only leave a burdensome sensation in his gut, a tingling in the back of his head or a knot in his throat. A silent alert. A merciful omen, so he could be prepared, against whatever was waiting for him.
Sometimes, when he attended Mr. Clarke’s class, he would know his teacher would appear with a pop quiz before he could even reveal the stack of papers behind his back, even if not even his hunches could save him from a bad grade, because they couldn’t battle how stupid his brain could be.
Or that time when Nancy opened the Byers’ door, looking so wary but stunned at seeing him at the doorstep to apologize to Jonathan for breaking his camera; he knew that something was off. He had been feeling it since he had woken up, and it was, partially, what had encouraged him to drive to the Byers’ home. Maybe, a good deed could replace a bad omen. But it didn’t. And he confirmed it when that monster fell through the ceiling, as if wood and cement were as weak as a sheet of paper, melting to reveal its ugly, intimidating, horrifying split face.
He had a hunch when he saw Billy Hargrove’s car pull out when he was with the kids, before everything went to hell and he lost consciousness under the weight of his punches. And the day Robin and him got captured by those Russian soldiers. He would never forget the heavy, ugly feeling that had attacked him as he spoke to Eddie Munson for the last time, his voice guarded and almost hopeful as he ordered him and Dustin –almost begging, for an instant– not to play heroes.
His hunch had been confirmed in the sole return of Dustin, without Eddie trailing behind, left as a corpse in the Upside Down.
He had always had those feelings. So, based on his experiences, he learned not to ignore them. Not to turn a blind eye and hope for the best, only for life to smack him on the back of his head. Even if he didn’t know exactly what waited for him the days his hunches attacked him in the form of physical distress, he learned to brace himself for anything. From a pop quiz to a fight to a death.
One could never know what was coming in a place like Hawkins.
He could take it. The anxiety that came with them. The nightmares in the aftermath, waking up in cold sweat while his room spun around him, nobody to comfort him by his side. The emptiness in his stomach when the hunches came true, followed by the stink of blood and death.
He hated it the most when the kids were with him. He could take the rejection from an ex-girlfriend. He could take a bad grade. Even the death of a friend. But of one of the kids? His kids? Hell no.
Maybe that’s why he was as tense as a coiled spring when they entered Hawkins Lab, as gray and decayed as the rest of the Upside Down.
A bad feeling had curled around his throat in a knot at the beginning of that same day. He had thought, hoped, that it only warned him of the way they almost crashed into another dimension, barely managing not to die as the walls closed around them, or even of his car –his beautiful car– getting stuck in that disgusting wall made of tendrils and who knows what else. But after both events had passed, it didn’t disappear. It tightened its solid grip around his throat, almost choking him, and it only worsened when the party split.
He had tried to join Nancy, out of annoyance at Dustin’s nasty attitude, but out of worry for his friend too. The last thing he wanted was for Nancy to die in a place like the Upside Down. Not after losing Barb. Not after her little sister disappeared. Not after everything she accomplished and before everything that awaited her. She actually had a bright future waiting for her, unlike him.
The feeling became harder to ignore as he explored the vicinity with Dustin. His head pounded as they found a playroom, full of scattered toys and books thrown aside and a rainbow painted over an old, moldy wall. Its colors even irritated his eyes, and he had to look anywhere else not to squeeze his eyes in a pitiful attempt to make the pain stop. It sunk like a rock into his stomach when they delved into the room, and it bothered him so much to the point he almost missed what Dustin spat at him after he threw a marble towards him.
“Okay, you know what?”
It took him a moment to turn towards the kid, frowning. “What?”
“I think this is the perfect spot for you, considering your arrested development.” Dustin's unimpressed face, with an underlying irritation, shone as Steve cast the flashlight over him. “While I search the rest of the basement, why don’t you stay here,” he threw the marble back to him, and Steve barely managed to catch it, an invisible claw sinking into his head, “and play with your balls?”
It took him another moment to register his words. “Perfect,” he sighed. “Yeah. Finally,” he lifted the marble, “a plan I can get behind.”
“I can imagine,” the boy shot back, as he headed out of the room.
A spark of anger, dampened by his exhaustion and pain, spread in his chest. “Yeah, good luck looking for your… treasure. I mean, shield generator,” he shrugged, before peering over the door frame as Dustin walked away. “I mean, made-up bullshit.”
“Thank you.”
Steve gritted his teeth, shaking his head as he pushed himself off the door frame. He went back into the room, glancing around as he tried to think about what to do in the meantime. The mere thought of having to look for something to distract himself and his pain made his headache worsen.
And when he sat down with a Rubik's cube in his head, his head almost split in half by how strong the hunch was. He couldn’t understand what was wrong. He was so used to his hunches, but this one felt different. Worse. More painful. And, by extension, a more horrible omen. What was going to happen now? Would they find Holly’s body? Would they find the answers that surrounded the mystery of the Upside Down only to be something that would offer more pain than relief?
He didn’t know. He wasn’t sure, and that made him more anxious than this headache that neared a migraine. His fingertips caressed the sides of the cubes, red, blue and green dancing around as he moved the pieces back and forth, but even the wet, moldy texture of its surface made him gag.
It was easy to lose track of time. Begging for it to go faster, while in reality it slowed down at his pain. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed before Dustin came back, just as he threw the cube onto the floor in a fit of rage and hurt.
The boy’s flashlight fell upon the cube, a skeptical expression on his face. “Really? You’re actually playing in here?”
“I’m just following orders, dude,” Steve answered, already tired of interacting with him. Lately, every interaction with Dustin felt like that. Exhausting. Draining. Hurtful. “Judging by your pissy look, I assume you didn’t find the shield generator.”
Dustin crouched down to scoop up the cube. “It’s here somewhere.”
“But you didn’t find it,” he couldn’t help but quip.
“Yeah, not on this floor.”
“So, you were wrong.” He slowly pushed himself off the table he was sitting on, ignoring the way his knees threatened to buckle under his weight. Not right now. Not in front of the kid.
“You would just love that, wouldn’t you?” Dustin almost huffed.
“No, I’m just… stating a fact.”
“No, you’re gloating,” he insisted, without bothering to hide his irritation. “Despite the fact that if I am wrong, we don’t reach past the wall, and don’t find Holly and the other kids. Do you understand how selfish you’re being?”
That made him frown and turn around. “Me? Selfish?” He tried not to scoff, the spark bubbling in his chest. “You wanna talk about selfish? How about when we finally reach Hop and El, we promptly ditch them to pursue this bullshit theory of yours?”
And the fact that, when they did, his hunch got so much worse, to the point he had to hide how much he wanted to throw up. He was sure he had chosen the bad way when everyone listened to Dustin’s plan, but he couldn’t bring himself to protest, not without revealing his… ability? Madness?
The last thing he needed was to be seen as a freak, aside from a loser.
“Not to mention,” he continued, “you’re the reason that we lost contact with them in the first place because of your no-show at the crawl. So, this whole mess is actually your fault. And I haven’t heard so much as a sorry.”
“Shit. Again, it’s not like I just didn’t show up, Steve. I was attacked!”
Steve knew. God, he knew. Dustin hadn’t stopped doing that since Eddie died. Getting himself into trouble, bad-mouthing teachers and classmates, even his own mom. Mrs. Henderson had actually spoken to Steve, asking him if he knew what was going on with his son, only to receive a shrug and a worried glance, incapable of revealing that his son had been grieving for a long time.
And he got it. He understood that it was probably the first death he witnessed and that hit so close to his heart. But Steve was tired. Tired of being pushed away when he offered comfort or even a ready ear to listen to him.
“No,” Steve started pointing at him, a hard pound almost making him falter before he pushed on. “You wanted that fight and that’s what you got. Just look at your face, man. You’ve done some stupid shit in the past, but this? Man, this takes the cake.”
“You wanna talk about dumb shit?” Dustin snapped back, his tone cutting through the air. “How about chasing somebody else’s girlfriend while the world is ending?”
The spark was starting to tingle in the back of his throat. “Nancy is a friend,” he insisted, like he pleaded everyone to understand. “She’s a friend, okay? You remember what that’s like? Having friends?”
“Yeah, I do,” he narrowed his eyes. “I remember what it was like to have a good friend. A real friend who actually believed in me and who was actually kind to me.”
He didn’t need to say his name. It was obvious who he was talking about.
And that just made him snap.
“Aha!” Steve pointed at him, stepping closer. “Aha!”
“What?”
“There we go. What this has all been about, really, is Eddie,” he tried not to bite at his own words, at the name he had tried not to think about for months now. The person that had plagued his nightmares since that day in the Upside Down. “All your bullshit, pushing everyone away, it’s because no one could ever be as perfect as he was.”
“Well, he wasn’t perfect, but at least he knew that, unlike you,” Dustin mimicked him, pointing at him and getting closer.
Steve rolled his eyes. Dustin didn’t stop. “He was never fake. He didn’t care what other people thought about him. He was just himself. And you know what? He was the smartest, kindest person I’ve ever met. And he would’ve solved this,” he lifted the Rubik cube in the air, “in thirty seconds flat.”
He could excuse the dumb comment. Even Steve knew he wasn’t the brightest bulb in the box, he had never been. But kind? He was kind! He had always been kind. Even if Jonathan punched him in the face for reacting accordingly to his own girlfriend cheating on him with him. Even if he didn’t react like his father would at Nancy telling him she never loved him. Even if after the Russians he had no one to go to, no one to tend to his wounds but Robin.
He was kind. He was patient. But Dustin didn’t see that.
All he could see was Eddie, and he was done with it.
“If I’m such a goddamn idiot, how come I’m the one still standing here?”
Dustin stopped, his face faltering. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
The claws of his headache had already sunk deep into his brain, aching behind his eyes. He barely managed not to let his voice tremble as he spoke. “That night, I told you not to be heroes. I told both of you.” His gaze became slightly blurry. He mistook his teary eyes for pain. “What did Eddie do? He charged into a swarm of killer bats.”
“To save my life!”
“He saved no one.”
“He saved everyone!” His voice tore at his throat, but Steve didn’t care anymore.
“You can keep telling yourself that, Henderson. But deep down, the reason you’re so goddamn pissed is because you know the truth.”
The headache was unbearable now. But Steve pushed through. Dustin needed to know, needed to understand. “Eddie wanted to play hero, and he made a dumb call and he got himself killed.”
His reaction was immediate. “Shut up!” He snarled.
Steve didn’t expect the cube to go back straight into his temple. The pain flared up, feeling as if spikes were sinking deep into his head, as Dustin pushed him to the nearest wall with a shout. Steve hugged him, trying not to let him get hurt at the sudden reaction, but Dustin kept punching at his sides like a madman.
“Hey! What the hell, man?” He pushed him off to the side, already backing away. “What are you doing, man? Stop it.”
From the floor, Dustin grabbed a chess board and started to hit him with it, ignoring his calls. He tried to grab the boy’s wrists to stop him, but he was too far gone for that. Dustin stumbled back and dived right back, and Steve pushed him again, making him slip onto the ground.
“Hey, hey! Henderson! What are you doing?”
Dustin threw pieces of board games, little toys towards him. Steve dodged, trying to keep his voice from snapping. “Calm down! Calm down, hey!”
In a frenzy, Dustin stood up and tackled him. Steve’s air disappeared from his lungs as he tried not to push back, not to harm him, but didn’t notice the Rubik cube on the ground until it was too late.
He slipped. Dustin’s weight on him brought him down to the floor. His head cracked against the floor.
And it was all darkness, for a split moment.
The pain vanished, as it had never been there. For the first time in days, Steve didn’t feel pain. Or sadness. Or anger.
Just darkness.
Then, everything came back with a rush of noises. Then, smells. Then, colors, when he opened his eyes and dizzily blinked up at the ceiling. Except it wasn't the playroom's ceiling, or any building’s ceiling.
But the open night sky.
He lay there, gulping up air. He didn’t notice he was so starved for oxygen until his lungs squeezed inside his chest. He was too busy trying to sit up, trying to gather his bearings, that he didn’t notice the spider that clung to his clothes, disappearing under his sweater.
He had to hold on to a nearby wall– an alley wall. He blinked at it, bewildered, while his mind still tried to catch up. An alley? In which part of the Upside Down was he?
However, his surroundings seemed too clean. It lacked dirt, mold. It lacked Vecna’s touch. Even if he was in the middle of an alleyway, it still looked too pristine to be the Upside Down.
A whirring sound over his head made him snap out of it, looking up. His eyes widened as he followed a shadow in the sky, looking too similar to something he could only see in dreams or movies.
Was… was that a flying car?
Ignoring his shaky legs, he straightened while he leaned on the wall. He looked around, noticing how even the air was different to the one in Hawkins. In the darkness of the alley, shadows of colors bathed the floor from the streets, where noises echoed. He followed them, holding on to the wall for dear life.
And thank God he did, or he would have fallen back into the ground as the streets cleared in front of him.
Cars of all sizes and colors drove across the gravel, none of them looking remotely close to the ones him or even his father had ever owned. The buildings, surrounding the main street, were as tall as skyscrapers, towering over a city that was so, so different from the sleepy town that was Hawkins that his brain just shut down. The displays from the stores were a clash of colors and gigantic fonts. Screens, as wide as the ones in cinemas, hung over roofs or in the middle of buildings, advertisement rolling one after the other, people with wide smiles while holding products whose names and whose companies’ names he had never heard before.
His gaze scrambled to focus on one thing. The people walking down the street looked straight out of a photo album, probably from a decade or two back. Big hair, colorful dresses, exaggerated makeup and high-waisted pants. It looked like a set of a movie. An old one, even if it didn’t lack any colors.
His eyes zeroed in on the biggest sign of them all, over a short building. Four people stood in the center, back straightened in heroic poses, confident expressions on their faces. All of them wore peculiar blue costumes with a four in their center. He didn’t recognize any of them. Much less the one that looked like a rock with blue eyes, who almost startled him back into the floor.
But he did recognize the man in the middle. Except the one he remembered didn’t have blond hair. Or blue eyes.
Or his arms on fire.
It took him a moment to find his voice. When he did, it was only a whisper, drowned by the city that caged him.
“…Munson?”