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The phone at Family Video rang during the Tuesday afternoon lull, that dead zone between lunch and after-school rushes when Steve usually caught up on returns. He had a stack of tapes in his arms when Robin called from the counter, “Steve! Phone!”
“Can you take a message?” he called back, squinting at a copy of The Breakfast Club that someone had returned without rewinding. Again.
“It’s Hawkins High,” Robin said, her voice shifting to something more serious. “They’re asking for you specifically.”
Steve’s stomach dropped. He abandoned the tapes on the nearest shield and crossed the store in four long strides. Robin handed him the phone, her eyebrows raised in concern.
“Hello?”
“Is this Steve Harrington?” A woman’s voice, professional and slightly strained.
“Yes, this is Steve.”
“This is Principal Coleman’s office at Hawkins High School. We have Dustin Henderson here- he’s alright,” she added quickly, and Steve’s heart unclenched slightly, “but he’s had an incident. You’re listed as one of his emergency contacts, along with his mother. Mrs. Henderson isn’t answering at home or at work, and Dustin specifically asked for you.”
“What happened? Is he hurt?” Steve was already reaching for his keys.
“He had a panic attack in fourth period. He’s in the nurse’s office now, stable but shaken. We need someone to pick him up for the rest of the day.”
“I’m on my way. Tell him-” Steve swallowed hard. “Tell him I’m coming right now.”
He hung up and looked at Robin, who was already waving him toward the door.
“Go. I’ve got this.”
“Robin, I can’t just leave you alone during-”
“Steve.” She gave him that look, the one that meant she was about to say something he needed to hear. “That kid needs you. Keith can write me up if he wants. Go.”
Steve went.
The drive to Hawkins High took twelve minutes, but it felt like twelve hours. Steve’s mind raced through possibilities, each worse than the last. Dustin had been doing better lately- or at least, Steve had thought he’d been doing better. They all had their bad days, their bad nights when the nightmares came back or a sound too similar to a demodog’s screech made them freeze in the grocery store. But Dustin was Dustin- resilient, brilliant, the kid who bounced back from interdimensional horror with jokes and scientific theories about what they’d faced.
Except that wasn’t fair, was it? Steve knew better than anyone that the person you showed the world wasn’t always the person you were when you were alone at 3 am, staring at your ceiling and trying to convince yourself the shadows were just shadows.
He pulled into the visitor parking spot and jogged toward the main entrance. The school smelled exactly like he remembered- floor wax, cafeteria food, and that particular staleness of recycled air. The secretary directed him to the nurse’s office down the main hallway, past walls covered in student artwork and motivational posters that seemed aggressively cheerful.
The nurse’s office door was partially open. Steve knocked anyway, gentle.
“Come in,” a woman’s voice called.
Nurse Mitchell was probably in her fifties, with kind eyes behind thick glasses. She stood when Steve entered, gesturing to the cot in the corner where Dustin sat hunched over, his backpack clutched against his chest like a shield.
“Mr. Harrington?” she asked quietly.
“Yeah. Steve is fine.” He couldn’t take his eyes off Dustin, who hadn’t looked up yet. The kid’s curls were messier than usual, his face blotchy and eyes reed-rimmed. Steve’s chest physically ached.
“Dustin had a panic attack during English class,” Nurse Mitchell explained, keeping her voice low. “His teacher brought him here, and he’s been calm for about twenty minutes now. I’ve checked his vitals- everything’s normal physically. He just needs rest and someone to keep an eye on him.”
“Okay.” Steve nodded, his fingers tightening around his keys. “Can I take him home?”
“You’ll need to sign him out at the office. I’ll send his assignments with you- his teachers are being very understanding.”
Steve finally moved toward the cot. He crouched down so he was eye-level with Dustin, careful not to crowd him. “Hey, buddy.”
Dustin’s eyes flicked up, then away. His voice came out rough, like he’d been crying hard. “I’m sorry.”
“None of that,” Steve said firmly but gently. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for. Let’s get you out of here, okay?”
Dustin nodded, still not quite meeting Steve’s eyes. Steve stood and offered his hand. After a moment’s hesitation, Dustin took it, letting Steve pull him to his feet. The kid swayed slightly, and Steve steadied him with a hand on his shoulder.
“Thank you, Nurse Mitchell,” Steve said.
“Of course. Dustin, you take care of yourself. And remember what we talked about- breathing exercises.”
Dustin nodded mutely. Steve kept his hand on Dustin’s shoulder as they walked to the office, a steady presence. The secretary had Dustin’s assignment folder ready and a sign-out sheet. Steve scrawled his signature, noting the time: 2:47 pm.
They walked to the car in silence. Steve unlocked the passenger door first, making sure Dustin was settled before going around to the driver’s side. Dustin immediately curled into himself, knees pulled up, making himself small in a way that made Steve’s protective instincts flare hot and fierce.
Steve started the car but didn’t put it in gear yet. “You hungry?”
Dustin shrugged.
“When’s the last time you ate?”
Another shrug.
“Okay. Ice cream it is.”
That got a reaction- Dustin’s head turned slightly toward him. “Steve, it’s like, barely 3 pm. And it’s November.”
“Yeah, and?” Since when do we follow ice cream rules?” Steve backed out of the parking spot, trying to his tone light. “Besides, Scoops Ahoy might be gone, but I still know the best time to hit the Dairy Queen. Mid-afternoon on a Tuesday? We’ll have the place to ourselves.”
He was rewarded with the tiniest hint of a smile tugging at Dustin’s mouth. It disappeared quickly, but it had been there. That was something.
Steve was right about the Dairy Queen. The place was nearly empty- just one other customer at the counter when they walked in, and she left with her cone before they’d even approached to order. The teenager working the register looked bored until she recognized Steve, then her expression shifted to interested. Steve ignored it.
“What do you want, Dustin?”
“I don’t know. I’m not really-”
“Medium chocolate-vanilla twist in a cone,” Steve told the girl. “And I’ll have a small chocolate dip cone. And a water, please.”
He paid before Dustin could protest, and they took their ice cream to a booth in the back corner, away from the windows. Dustin sat facing the wall, and Steve didn’t comment on it. He knew that feeling- needing to have your back to something solid, needing to see the exits.
They ate in silence for a few minutes. Steve watched Dustin carefully, noting the way his hands shook slightly when he brought the cone to his mouth, the way he kept glancing around the restaurant like he was tracking threats.
“Your ice cream’s melting,” Steve said quietly.
Dustin looked down at his cone, where the soft-serve was indeed starting to drip. He licked it automatically, then seemed to actually taste it. Some of the tension in his shoulders eased, just a fraction.
Steve waited. He’d learned patience in the strangest ways over the past few years- learned it in the Upside Down, waiting for demogorgons to pass. Learned it in hospital rooms, waiting for test results. Learned it with Robin, who sometimes needed silence before she could find her words. He could wait for Dustin.
They were halfway through their cones when Dustin finally spoke.”
“We were reading The Odyssey in English.”
Steve nodded, not interrupting.
“Mrs. Patterson was talking about the part where Odysseus goes to the underworld. And she was describing it- the darkness, the shadows, the monsters. And she said something about how the living aren’t supposed to go to the land of the dead and come back unchanged.” Dustin’s voice cracked. “And I just- I couldn’t breathe. I tried to, but it felt like something was sitting on my chest, and the classroom got really small, and I couldn’t-”
“Hey.” Steve reached across the table, his hand open, palm up. An offering, not a demand. Dustin stared at it for a moment, then grabbed it like a lifeline. His hand was cold from the ice cream and trembling. “You’re okay. You’re here, you’re safe.”
“I know that. Logically, I know that. But my brain just- it went somewhere else. I kept thinking about the tunnels, and the Mind Flayer, and Starcourt, and-” Dustin squeezed his eyes shut. “And you. I kept thinking about you getting hurt. About finding you in that bathroom at Starcourt, covered in blood. About the bats at Lover’s Lake. About every single time you’ve almost died protecting us.”
Steve’s throat felt tight. “Dustin-”
“I have nightmares about it,” Dustin continued, the words tumbling out now like he couldn’t stop them. “About all of it, but mostly about losing people. Losing you, or Max, or Lucas, or Eddie. I dream that I’m back in those tunnels and I can’t find anyone, or I’m at Starcourt and I hear you screaming but I can’t get to you, or-” His breath hitched. “Or I wake up and I think maybe it was all real but you’re not. That maybe I’ll call your house and your dad will answer and tell me there’s no Steve Harrington, that I made you up.”
“Jesus, kid.” Steve moved around to Dustin’s side of the booth, sliding in next to him. He wrapped his arm around Dustin’s shoulders and pulled him close. Dustin turned into him, pressing his face against Steve’s shoulders, his body shaking with suppressed sobs.
“I’m sorry,” Dustin gasped out. “I’m sorry, I should be handling this better. It’s been months since everything with Vecna, I should be over iti-”
“No.” Steve’s voice came out fiercer than he intended. He gentled it, running his hand through Dustin’s curls like he’d done a hundred times before. “Don’t do that. Don’t tell yourself there’s a timeline for this stuff. It doesn’t work like that.”
“You seem okay,” Dustin mumbled against his shoulder.
Steve let out a bitter laugh. “Yeah? You want to know what I’m really like?” He felt Dustin nod. “Okay. I have nightmares at least three times a week. Sometimes more. I can’t go in pools anymore because I keep thinking about being dragged under. I sleep with the nail bat under my bed and three different lights on in my house. I have panic attacks in grocery stores when I see kids with curly hair because for a second, my brain thinks it’s you or one of the others and what if you’re in danger. I can’t watch TV shows with hospitals because I start thinking about Max, or Eddie, or-” He stopped, swallowing hard.
Dustin had pulled back slightly to look at him, eyes wide and red.
“I get migraines that last for days from all the concussions,” Steve continued. “My hearing’s getting worse. I have scars all over my body that I see every time I look in the mirror. And some days-” His voice dropped to barely above a whisper. “Some days I can barely get out of bed because what’s the point? We saved the world and nobody knows, nobody can know, and I’m just Steve Harrington, the guy who works at Family Video and didn’t get into college.”
“Steve-” Dustin’s voice broke.
“But you know what gets me up?” Steve looked at him directly. “You. Robin. The kids. Knowing that you need me, that if you called right now and said ‘Code Red’, I’d be there. That’s what I hold onto on the bad days.”
“I didn’t know it was that bad for you.” Dustin looked shattered. “You always seem so… together.”
“Yeah, well. Someone’s gotta be the babysitter, right?” Steve tried for a smile. “But here’s the thing, buddy. You don’t have to be ‘together’ for me. Or for anyone. What you’re feeling? It;s normal. It’s your brain trying to process impossible shit that no fourteen-year-old should ever have to deal with.”
“Fifteen,” Dustin corrected automatically. “My birthday was-”
“I know when your birthday was, dingus. I was there.” Steve squeezed his shoulder. “My point is, you survived something that would break most adults. Hell, it DID break most adults. Bob, Barb, Billy-” He stopped, realizing that listing the dead wasn’t helpful. “You’re allowed to have bad days. You’re allowed to have panic attacks. You’re allowed to be scared.”
“I don’t want to be scared,” Dustin whispered. “I want to be brave like you.”
“Dustin.” Steve waited until the kid looked at him. “Being brave doesn’t mean not being scared. It means terrified and doing it anyway. And you know what else? Asking for help? That’s brave too. You had them call me. That took guts.”
“You’re my emergency contact,” Dustin said, like it explained everything. Maybe it did.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Mom’s first, obviously, but you’re second. Robin’s third, then Lucas’s parents, then Mike’s.” Dustin ducked his head. “I didn’t ask if that was okay. I just- I knew if something happened, I’d want you there.”
Steve’s eyes stung. He blinked hard, pulling Dustin back against his side. “Of course it’s okay, you idiot. I’m honored. But hey, your mom- we should call her. She’s probably worried.”
“She’s at a dental convention in Indianapolis,” Dustin said. “Three-day conference. She won’t be back until Thursday night. I was supposed to stay at Lucas’s, but…” He trailed off.
“But you didn’t want to talk about what happened?” Steve guessed.
Dustin nodded. “Lucas has been doing so good lately. Him and Max, they’re both- they’re healing, you know?” I didn’t want to bring them down with my stuff.”
“Okay, first of all, it’s not ‘bringing them down.’ We’re all dealing with this together. But Second-” Steve pulled out his car keys. “You’re staying with me until your mom gets back.”
“Steve, you don’t have to-”
“I want to. Plus, my house is way too big and quiet when it’s just me. You’d actually be doing me a favor.” He stood up, offering his hand again. “Come on. We’ll stop by your place so you can grab some clothes and whatever else you need, then we’ll hole up at my place. We can watch terrible movies, order pizza, and if you want to talk more, we can. If you don’t, we won’t. Deal?”
Dustin took his hand, letting Steve pull him to his feet. “Deal.”
They stopped at the Henderson house first. It felt strange walking in when Claudia wasn’t there, the house too quiet without her cheerful greetings. Dustin moved through the space like a ghost, mechanically packing a duffel bag with clothes and toiletries.
Steve found him sitting on his bed, staring at the walkie-talkie on his nightstand.
“You okay?”
“Sometimes I wake up and I think I hear them on the walkies,” Dustin said quietly. “Eddie, or Max, or Hopper when we thought he was dead. My brain plays tricks on me.”
Steve sat down next to him. “Yeah. I get that. Sometimes I see Billy in crowds, even though I know-” He stopped. “The brain’s a weird thing. It holds onto stuff we wish we could forget and makes us remember stuff we’d rather not.”
“Do you think it’ll ever get better?” Dustin asked. “Like, will there be a day when I don’t think about it?”
Steve considered lying, giving him false hope. But Dustin deserved honesty. “I don’t know. Maybe it gets easier. Maybe we just get better at living with it. But I do know this- You’re not alone in it. You’ve got me, and Robin, and the whole Party. We’re all in this together, okay?”
Dustin leaned against him. “Okay.”
“Now grab your stuff. And maybe that science book you’ve been reading, the one about theoretical physics or whatever. You can explain it to me later and I’ll pretend to understand half of it.”
That got a real laugh, small but genuine. “You won’t understand any of it.”
“Probably not. But I like listening to you talk about it anyway.”
Back at Steve’s house, the familiar space seemed to ease something on both of them. Steve’s house had become unofficial Party headquarters over the past few months- the place they gravitated to when they needed safety, when Steve’s parents were (as usual) absent on business trips that felt more like excuses to avoid Hawkins.
“Guest room or you want to crash in my room?” Steve asked, dumping his keys on the kitchen counter.
“You room,” Dustin said immediately, then looked embarrassed. “If that’s okay. I just-”
“It’s okay.” Steve understood. Sometimes you needed to know someone was close, that you weren’t alone in the dark. “Let me change the sheets at least. They’re probably gross.”
They weren’t gross, but Steve changed them anyway, putting on the newer set while Dustin sat on the floor and started pulling books out of his bag. By the time Steve finished, Dustin had created a small fortress of novels, textbooks, and comics around himself.
“You planning to stay a while?” Steve teased.
“You said I could stay until Thursday,” Dustin pointed out.
“Yeah, and I meant it. Make yourself at home, buddy.”
Steve ordered pizza while Dustin took a shower. When the kid emerged, wearing an old Hawkins High School gym shirt and sweatpants that were getting too short for him (growing like a weed, Steve thought with a mixture of pride and melancholy), he looked younger. Vulnerable in a way he usually tried to hide.
They ate pizza on Steve’s bed, watching Back to the Future because it was fun and light and had nothing to do with mothers or alternate dimensions. Dustin fell asleep halfway through, slumped against Steve’s shoulder, his breathing evening out into something peaceful.
Steve didn’t move. His arm was going numb and his back would probably hate him in the morning, but he didn’t care. He reached for the remote carefully, turning the volume down but not off, leaving the TV as background noise against the silence.
His mind drifted to his own emergency contacts. His parents were listed first, technically, but they were never around when it mattered. After that? It used to be Tommy, then Nancy, and now it was Robin. Just Robin. The realization sat heavy in his chest- not because it was sad, exactly, but because it highlighted how different his life was from Dustin’s.
Dustin had options. People who loved him, who would drop everything for him. And he’d chosen Steve. Put Steve second, right after his mom. Trusted Steve to show up, to be there, to matter.
The weight of that trust was terrifying and precious all at once.
Steve must have dozed off eventually, because he woke to darkness and the sound of distress. Dustin was caught in a nightmare, whimpering and thrashing slightly, his face scrunched in fear.
“Hey, Dustin. Buddy, wake up.” Steve shook him gently. “You’re dreaming. Come on, wake up.”
Dustin’s eyes flew open, wild and unfocused. For a second, he didn’t seem to recognize where he was, his breath coming in sharp gasps.
“You’re in my room,” Steve said calmly. “At my house. You’re safe. It was just a dream.”
Recognition flooded Dustin’s face, followed immediately by embarrassment. “Sorry. Sorry, I-”
“Stop apologizing.” Steve turned on the bedside lamp, warm light pushing back the shadows. “Want to talk about it?”
Dusin shook his head, then nodded, then shook it again. “I don’t know.”
“Okay. That’s okay.” Steve glanced at the clock- 4:17 am. “You want some water? We could go downstairs, make some hot chocolate?”
“Isn’t it like, the middle of the night?”
“Yeah. So? There’s no ice cream rules, and there’s definitely no hot chocolate rules.”
This time, Dustin’s smile was more substantial. “Okay.”
They sat at the kitchen island, mugs of hot chocolate steaming between them. Steve had gone all out- real chocolate, milk heated on the stove, marshmallows on top. Comfort food at its finest.
“I was in the tunnels again,” Dustin said finally. “But this time, when I called for you guys, nobody answered. I kept walking and walking, and I could hear things moving in the dark, but I couldn’t see them. And then I found…” He stopped, his hands tightening around his mug.
“Found what?”
“Bodies. The Party. All of you, just-” Dustin’s voice cracked. “And I was alone.”
Steve moved his own mug aside so he could grip Dustin’s shoulder. “We’re not dead. We made it. All of us.”
“Eddie didn’t.”
The name hung in the air between them. Eddie Munson, who’d died a hero and would be remembered as a monster by most of Hawkins. Who’d sacrificed himself to buy them time, who’d proven every assumption about him wrong.
“No,” Steve agreed quietly. “Eddie didn’t make it. And that- that’s something we all carry. But Dustin, you didn’t fail him. None of us did. He made a choice.”
“A choice he shouldn’t have had to make.”
“You’re right. He shouldn’t have. Max shouldn’t have had to almost die. Lucas shouldn’t have had to watch her break. You shouldn’t have had to watch her break. You shouldn’t have had to watch Eddie bleed out. I shouldn’t have been-” Steve stopped, realizing where he was going.
“Been what?” Dustin looked at him sharply. “What were you going to say?”
Steve sighed, running his hand through his hair. “I was going to say I shouldn’t have been eaten my demon bats. But here’s the thing- we can ‘shouldn’t have’ ourselves to death. Yeah, none of it should have happened. We should’ve been regular kids in a regular town. You should be worrying about grades and girls, not PTSD and survivors’ guilt.”
“Do you have survivors’ guilt?” Dustin asked. “About Eddie?”
“Sometimes,” Steve admitted. “I think about those bats, about how if they’d gotten me instead- if I’d been just a little slower- maybe Eddie would have had more time. Maybe he’d still be alive.”
“That’s not fair. You almost died.”
“And Eddie did die. Neither is far.” Steve took a sip of his hot chocolate, marshmallow sticking to his upper lip. “But here’s what I’m learning- and I’m still learning. I don’t have this figured out- we can’t live in the ‘what ifs.’ We can only live in what is. And what is, right now, is that you’re here. I’m here. We’re both alive and drinking hot chocolate at 44 am because we both have nightmares and that’s okay.”
“Is it?” Dustin’s voice was small. “Okay, I mean?”
“Yeah, it is. It has to be, because it’s where we are.” Steve bumped Dustin’s shoulder with his own. “And hey, you know what one of my therapists told me?”
“You have a therapist?” Dustin looked surprised.
“Had. I stopped going because she didn’t understand- she couldn’t, really. How do you explain the Upside Down to someone who thinks you’re making it up?” Steve shook his head. “But before that, she told me something useful. She said trauma isn’t something you get over, it’s something you integrate. You make it part of your story instead of letting it be your whole story.”
Dusitn was quiet, absorbing this. “Is that what you’re doing? Integrating?”
“Trying to. Some days are better than others.” Steve finished his hot chocolate. “But I think having people helps. People who understand, who’ve been through it. People who don’t think you’re crazy when you jump at loud noises or check the shadows.”
“Like you.”
“Like me. Like Robin. Like the Party.” Steve met Dustin’s eyes. “Like you, for me.”
“I help you?”
“Of course you do. You think I’m just some selfless hero taking care of everyone? Dustin, you keep me going. Knowing you need me, knowing I matter to you- that’s huge. That’s everything, some days.”
Dustin’s eyes were bright with unshed tears. “You matter to me so much, Steve. You’re-” He stopped, struggling with words. “You’re like the brother I never had. No, you’re more than that. You’re the person who taught me it’s okay to be scared as long as you show up anyway. You’re the person who makes me feel safe.”
Steve pulled him into a hug, fierce and right. “You make me feel like I matter,” he said against Dustin’s curls. “Like I’m not just the dumb jock who peaked in high school. You make me feel like I can be someone worth being.”
They stayed like that for a long moment, two people who’d been through hell holding onto each other in a quiet kitchen, finding safety in connection.
When they finally pulled apart, Dustin wiped his eyes with his sleeve. “Can I tell you something?”
“Always.”
“Sometimes I’m scared I’m going to end up like Will. Like, the Upside Down is going to get in my head somehow, or I’m going to get possessed, or-” He shuddered. “I’m scared it’s not really over. That it’s never going to be over.”
Steve took a breath. He could lie, tell Dustin everything was fine and the Upside Down was sealed forever. But they’d promised each other honesty.
“I’m scared of that too,” he said. “Every weird thing that happens, every light that flickers, part of me wonders. But we can’t live our whole lives waiting for the next bad thing. We just- we stay vigilant. We stay connected. And if something does happen, we handle it together. Like we always do.”
“Together,” Dustin echoed.
“Always.” Steve stood, collecting their mugs. “Now come on. We’re both exhausted, and you’ve got homework you’re probably supposed to do tomorrow even though there’s no way I’m making you do it.”
“It’s Wednesday,” Dustin pointed out.
Exactly. Worst day of the week. You’re taking a mental health day, and that’s final.”
“Steve-”
“Don’t even try. I’m the adult here, I’m making an executive decision. One day off to sleep and eat junk food and not think about school or the Upside Down or anything heavy. Just a break. You deserve a break.”
Dustin looked like he wanted to argue but was too tired to manage it. “Okay.”
“Okay.”
They ended up back in Steve’s bed, the TV turned to low volume showing infocomercials for products neither of them needed. Dustin curled up on his side, facing Steve, looking young and vulnerable in the flickering light.
“Steve?”
“Yeah, buddy?”
“Thank you. For coming to get me. For the ice cream. For-” Dustin’s voice got thick. “For being you.”
“Hey, it’s what big brothers do, right?”
Dustin’s face split into a tired but genuine smile. “Yeah. That’s what big brothers do.”
Steve reached out and ruffled Dustin’s curls, the gesture familiar and fond. “Get some sleep. I’ll be right here.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
Dustin’s eyes drifted closed, his breathing evening out. Steve stayed awake a while longer, watching the kid sleep, making sure the nightmares stayed away. His mind wandered to emergency contacts, to the web of people they’d all become for each other. Robin was his person, sure, but Dustin was his person too. They all were- this found family forged in fire and darkness.
Through the window, the sky was starting to lighten- not quite down, but getting there. A new day coming, full of unknown possibilities and challenges. But also full of moments like this: quiet comfort, chosen family, the knowledge that you weren’t alone.
Next to him, Dustin murmured something in his sleep- something that might have been ‘Steve’ or might have been nothing at all. Steve’s hand tightened on his shoulder for just a moment.
“I’m here,” he whispered. “I’m right here.”
And he was. He would be. For Dustin, for Robin, for all of them. Because that’s what you did for the people you loved. You showed up. You stayed. You answered the phone when the school called, and you dropped everything, and you made it clear through actions and words and presence that they mattered.
That they would always matter.
Steve’s eyes finally drifted closed as the first rays of real sunlight began to creep across the floor. Outside, Hawkins was waking up- cars starting, coffee brewing, another ordinary day in a town that had seen extraordinary horrors. But in this room, in this moment, there was peace.
And sometimes, peace was enough.
Sometimes, it was everything.