Chapter Text
The end of the world shatters the perception of reality. Yet surviving it always leaves wounds that never quite heal. Even after saving the world time and time again, there are still parts that could be taken. Unmarred skin to be punctured and bruised, minds to be clouded with tormented thoughts. There was still more to lose each time, still something to be sacrificed. And with the Upside Down, the sacrifice is not often met with the recognition that was deserved. Suffering was silent.
“See my pain and suffering! Forgive all my sins!”
The priest read from the text, standing at the podium with wrinkled hands gripping the wood. The room was quiet, save for soft shuffling and even quieter amens from various townsfolk. Despite the hushed room, the church itself was packed to the brim, thighs pressed against each other and children bouncing on parents legs, consoled to keep quiet during the sermon. Because of the overpacked crowd, the summer heat that managed to get inside felt even more suffocating. The AC units can only work so much. Not a single forehead lacked a drip of sweat but it only felt like something for everyone to bear.
There was a renewed Christian awakening within Hawkins following Spring Break. And with the mass hysteria of rising Satanism, the townsfolk are begging to be saved from their sins and pleading for protection from such evil. To save their kids from eternal damnation.
The members of Hellfire faced extreme scrutiny. While there was nothing tying them to the grizzly murders, the rumors of the club being a cult grew and grew, festering until they were unable to argue their case. They were forced to conform, at least, to prove they were not the satanists everyone claimed them to be. Seeing the kids with their bibles pacified the angry mobs but wary and judgmental stares followed their families for weeks.
Steve felt sorry for them. Defending your passion for a simple tabletop game and the true nature of your club to a bunch of religious fanatics, it had to be an exhausting endeavor. He feels bad for the sole fact that he doesn't face the same issue.
After all, Steve was only half listening to the priest, his arms crossed as he looked to the side. He always found interest in the stained glass windows adorning the walls more than anything. The stories depicted are things he’s vaguely aware of. Jesus carrying the cross was one he was knew, yeah, but he still isn’t sure how a lamb is supposedly connected to the son of god.
A hand squeezed his knee and he turned, his gaze catching with Robin who sat next to him. She gave him a pointed look, one that told him he should be paying attention. He looked beyond her shoulder, seeing Mr. and Mrs. Buckley enraptured by the gospel and notably, not paying attention to the two. Steve gave her a look back before turning his gaze back forward.
Church with the Buckleys was strange. While he doesn't particularly see them as family, bar Robin, the experience was more comforting than going with his actual mom and dad. It's been years since he attended on his own accord, only bothering to show up when his girlfriend of the time would invite him. He had faith at some point, he thinks, but going to hell and back changed his outlook on life a bit…The witch hunts against his kiddos? That might have soured the idea a bit more.
But despite what he thinks, he knew attending these services would only help. If not for religious reasons, then most certainly to offer the kids a safe space.
The Wheelers, Sinclairs, and Mrs. Henderson no longer trusted the kids to be by themselves without supervision. Some of their nerdy shit taken away, Hellfire Club shirts packed to the back of their dresser, privacy almost nonexistent. Not to mention these required services they have to attend. Steve could tell, even after all these weeks, they were miserable.
So he figured if he could use his good standing, look like the perfect boy in the eyes of the townsfolk, then he can offer the kids a place to be themselves: the Harrington home. The very same place Steve used to throw his most infamous parties. His house wasn't being used for much else now anyway and he found hearing their silly banter over stupid fantastical stuff bouncing off the walls made his previously cold abode feel warm. Warmer than it ever did with dozens of strangers loitering around.
All he needed to do was keep up the facade and listen to the priest that was droning on about something or another...
Yet, Steve still wasn't looking at him. Instead, he was now captivated by the back of Nancy Wheeler's hair. Her hair was perfectly set, curls falling out from underneath her hat in perfect waves. She looked beautiful―She always does. She can somehow look so put together, despite the world trying to break her.
Next to her, Jonathan Byers leaned over, whispering something that made her smile sweetly at him before the two turned back to the front. The fact they were still together, after all this time, may be a miracle to behold. That they have a love that survives not only distance but dimensions; Steve wishes he had something like that. He really thought it would be with her, that Nancy was his other half but he should have known better. The matching scar that Nancy shares with Jonathan only meant she wasn't Steve's. Not anymore.
Maybe not ever.
With a sigh, he looked up finally. His eyes subconsciously trailed the preacher but he continued to let his mind wander...
They almost lost.
In fact, it didn't seem like they won at all. Vecna died, Steve saw the body with his own eyes. The world was loud when it happened, wailing screams from all over, the hive mind receiving the pain of Vecna’s burning corpse. Vines shriveled, distant Demogorgons roared, bats that returned to the Creel home screeched and fell to the ground, writhing before dying slowly. The sound of death rose to a crescendo that the silence that followed didn't feel quiet.
They won but they still lost…so much.
“Let us stand and pray.”
The shuffling of feet rising filled the hall. Steve stood shoulder to shoulder with Robin who bowed her head. Her eyes were wide open and panicked like every time they were asked to pray, she would burst into flames from muttering words of scripture.
“Heavenly father…” Steve started with the crowd, continuing to recite what he's learned over the past month or so.
At least this was working. At least the people of Hawkins were starting to forget. They were becoming less hostile, more welcoming to the kids again. Their feared leader, the head of Hellfire, now gone and no longer mentioned. Almost like saying his name would bring back his “curse.” It didn’t matter to them, the kids were saved, and no one else had been ritualistically sacrificed. Their town safe.
But it wasn't.
There were still wounds that needed to be mended, portals that still had to be closed, government officials that have grown more and more suspicious of the party, eyeing them as if to avoid further mishaps. As if a bunch of kids hadn't saved the world already. As if they as a group hadn't cleaned up the mess Hawkin's laboratory had caused time and time again.
The Upside Down wasn't even gone, Steve curses under his breath each time he thought about it. The gates Vecna created were dormant with monsters lurking just beyond them, barricaded by army officials, metal walls, and barbed wire. Steve knew it would do nothing to protect the citizens of the horrors but it wasn't for protection. It was for privacy. Curious eyes made for questioning lines. And questions still weren't afforded answers, even so far into this petty game. Privacy even from the ones who dealt with this bullshit numerous times before. Who could do something to prevent more tragedy. At any point, demo-whatevers can come rushing out of the rifts of their world, wiping Hawkins off the map once and for all.
They don't care.
"Amen," The congregation rang out, Steve following with his own a half-second later. Everyone began to take their seats.
When Steve went to take his own, he glanced up, seeing Dustin staring directly at him. His eyes basically bulged out of his little skull. Steve knew exactly what that look meant. It meant Dustin needed to rant. It meant Steve would be taking the long way back to the Henderson home. The even longer way that led to them taking a trip to Lover's lake.
―⁕🎕⁕―
“I just don't get it!” Dustin yelled for maybe the 9th time since leaving Steve's car. “Again, they seriously expect us to move on?! Like it's nothing!!” He threw a rock in an attempt to make it skip along the water. Instead, it splashed heavily, sending droplets high in the sky. He seemed to be even more frustrated at this, a scowl making permanent residence on his face. “As if they didn't treat us like monsters―not even apologizing for it― and now they continually act like everything is so fine and dandy!”
The topic Dustin would usually bring up changed from time to time and it was usually these long angry rants about how everyone had mistreated their party. How the town was ungrateful. How he couldn’t stand the lack of recognition anymore. He was rightfully upset; he risked his life to save people that didn't even trust him anymore.
“Yeah it’s not…” Steve hesitated. He poised his arm and gripped the stone in his hand lightly. “It's not...great.”
He launched the stone then, watching it skip along the surface five times before sinking. He was aiming for the spot where Patrick died―the spot where he knew there was still a gate. Where he was pulled into the Upside Down and almost killed. He shivered at the memory and went to pick up another stone.
“But maybe it's a good thing.” Steve continued with a neutral, almost pacifying tone. Because he knew exactly how the young teen would react.
And react he did. Heated remarks came out of Dustin's mouth, his angry tirade gaining a second leg at Steve's very wrong opinion about the matter. Dustin never really took this well. Even when Steve tried to explain it away.
“What if they're just…Forgiving and forgetting, yeah?” He offered with a tired shrug. “Is that such a bad thing?”
“Bad thing? Steve!” He threw his arms up before they found home on his hips, very reminiscent of something Steve would do in his moments of exasperation. “They hunted us! Basically for sport! Jason Carver still wants us dead!”
“I don't know man, I think he's mellowed out a bit―”
“No he hasn't!” Dustin’s voice raised even further, cracking from barely contained emotion as opposed to puberty. His face was growing red in frustration and Steve would've teased him for it if not for the fact that the younger teen was already at a boiling point. “You don’t see the way he looks at us! Like everything is our fault. Like we killed his girlfriend. Like we didn’t save this stupid town! Like Eddie didn’t…”
And there it was. The one thing that Dustin continually comes back to. No matter where his rant started, it always ended with Dustin growing quiet at the name of Eddie Munson. He’d get distant, gaze turning almost downward. It was surreal seeing such a fiery kid sink into silence like this.
Steve really wishes he could’ve known Eddie the way the kids knew him― the way Dustin knew him. With how the kid idolized Eddie, Steve would have thought the metalhead discovered the moon.
Eddie Munson was strange, loud in a way that grated on Steve's nerves a bit back in high school. His hair, his clothes, his personality, his weed. It felt like his presence was all-consuming; you had no choice but to notice this larger-than-life man. He could take the room's full attention, captivate an unwilling audience to a theatrical performance of the town Freak, accompanied with a sardonic smile and dramatic flair. He was unapologetic too, daring anyone and everyone to shut him down, to place him into a box of what he could or couldn't be. Eddie was so undeniably himself and passionate about what he liked, damn what anyone else thought.
Steve found it admirable. He was never brave enough to stand against conformity back then.
(Or even now, he thinks while adjusting the sleeves of his church shirt.)
But what Steve was most impressed by, and subsequently jealous of, was Munson's ability to disappear. Because despite the way the metalhead commandeered a cafeteria, Eddie was still able to fade into the background, somehow. He could become a fly on the wall like his big round eyes were made for simply observing. Steve hadn't noticed it was something he could do at first― not that he was particularly looking before his rude awakening junior year. The jock ignored anyone who he didn't deem worthy of his time. Meaning, Eddie fell under his radar. Only, of course, if a famous Harrington rager didn't need quality drugs.
It wasn't until his fall from grace that he realized Munson stuck to the shadows just as much as he basked in the spotlight.
It was a day after gym class in a supposedly vacant locker room. It involved Tommy and Billy and their never-ending crusade to make Steve uncomfortable. There were ass slaps, heated threats, and crazed eyes (it was truly not a question of the two being obsessed with him, Steve just wondered if it would be conceited to think they had a thing for him too). The two meatheads had left with boisterous laughter, unaware of the audience they left behind. Steve had noticed Munson then, head peeking from around a wall and watching. They stared before the metalhead gave mischievous smirk and disappeared around the corner.
Steve had expected a new wave of rumors to come out then, twisted and fabricated by the town Freak. Some that would cause all of Hawkins to turn on the three jocks in an instant.
Nothing happened.
Eddie kept it to himself, chose not to spread what would surely destroy the lives of guys who wouldn't give him the same courtesy. Steve didn't get it but he was intrigued with how Munson acted, nonetheless. He truly went unnoticed when he wanted to, collecting secrets and gossip like keepsakes. Maybe it should've weirded Steve out, yet all the jock could think about was how impressive the older man, dressed in chains and leather, could go undetected in a sea of cotton and plaid.
All to say, Steve was baffled a man like Eddie would choose to be ignored on occasion. It was one of those mysteries he'll never understand and especially now that Munson was gone. He just wishes he was brave enough to talk to the guy before...
Because Eddie was someone Steve had a great respect for at least, that much he could say. The man was a firecracker, an inspiration to many with the open-mindedness to appreciate it. Steve knew he was jealous of him, even before Dustin met the strange man, but he can honestly say the world grew dimmer now that Eddie Munson was gone.
The impact he had on the lives around him are immeasurable, Steve's included despite the brief interactions they've had. Now with no way to fill the hole he left, they're stuck picking up the pieces.
His hand finds Dustin’s shoulder, rubbing gently before he gives a comforting squeeze. The young teen turned to look up at him all before the boy stepped in to hug Steve tight. He returned the hug instantly, his hand finding home in the dark curls on top of the boy's head. Steve learned that dealing with the grief of a lost one should be handled head on. He’s made the mistake with Nancy, ignoring the pain she felt over the loss of Barb. The mistake that undoubtedly cost him his relationship. He’s grown from then, emotionally, and he’s thankful for that at least. It just meant he could be there for Henderson, however the boy needs him.
“It’s not fair.”
“I know, buddy,” Steve murmured into his hair, feeling helpless with only his weak words to comfort. "I know."
―⁕🎕⁕―
Dinner with the Hendersons was now a Sunday tradition. Mrs. Henderson, with all of her appreciation of Steve watching her baby, readily invited him to eat with them one Sunday evening. After, without fail, she would demand he come over following church service to spend time with them. Steve had jumped at the opportunity, knowing he could keep Dustin's mind off of otherworldly troubles if only to redirect his mother's chatter to safer territory. It wasn't that Claudia was hard on Dustin (quite the opposite, really), it was just that with her ignorance of monsters and dangerous truths...she couldn't fully understand all that the boy has been through.
Hell, Steve doesn't even know the full extent and how deep the troubles lie. But he'd sure like to learn.
So Sunday dinner with the Hendersons was a weekly event Steve looked forward to. He would often leave the house, full and satisfied with Tupperware packed with leftovers. It truly seemed that Claudia believed Steve would starve without the extra helpings, that the next week he shows up, he'll be skin and bones. Steve is respectful and grateful enough to never turn down the servings, partly because he knew Claudia wouldn't take no for an answer.
The other part being he saves the leftovers for someone else.
Steve rapped his knuckles onto the metal siding of the new Munson trailer.
Wayne Munson opened the door, peering at Steve through the mesh of the protective screen. He only appraised him for a moment, humming, before opening the screen door to let him in.
This was another tradition for Steve: to visit Wayne Munson every Sunday to check up on the old man. Of course, he would visit on other days too, if Wayne had the opportunity, but Sundays were his day off. And of course, a game played on the TV too, something for the men to watch with lukewarm beers in hand. Claudia's leftovers would be left in his care: to be eaten for any meal of his choosing.
(There was a time when Steve had come in a Monday morning to drop off a bit of groceries as a surprise. Steve walked in to see the old man eating what was left of his pot roast at 7am. "I work nights, kid, this is dinnertime for me." Steve never questioned it after that.)
When Steve had first started this, it was on a whim. Claudia had made so much pasta salad that would surely last at least two weeks― maybe one if he ate it for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. It had a good refrigerator life, is what she told him, piling more and more containers into his unsure hands. And even if that had been true, Steve hadn't been sure he wanted the same meal for days straight anyway.
With too much food on hand for a lonely Steve Harrington to eat, he drove over to Max's place to hand it to her. He only remembered her stay at the hospital once he stood at her front door. Instead of cutting his losses, he looked further down the lot, knowing that's where the only living Munson resided. He never expected Wayne to tolerate him enough to allow him inside, let alone keep up with this custom.
Or even to request to spend time on a day other than Sunday.
"You fish, kid?" the old man asks the question randomly, bringing his beer back up to his lips.
Steve, with his eyes previously glued to the static-y TV broadcasting the game, turned to the Munson with a gaping, almost fish-like look in response.
"I uh...I've never tried."
"I'm off this coming Thursday," the old man says with a gruff. "Was thinking of going fishing. If you care to come along."
Steve is sure he has a shift on Thursday but he thinks he can fake a sickness that day. He doubts Keith would be anywhere near a lake to see Steve wasn't bedridden.
Besides, the look of Wayne's nod and quick quirk of his lip at Steve accepting the offer was enough to make the stress of it worth it.
―⁕🎕⁕―