Chapter Text
Sometimes, when Steve wasn’t running for his life from the monster with no face and the screeches carried on wings in the distance, he liked to go to school. Not a sentiment he’d really ever expected, but sometimes he could hear the sounds of laughter like a distorted echo and pretend, just for a moment, that…
Wow, that was pathetic. He was pathetic. Stuck in some alternate, freaky Hawkins, living off of canned sludge and adrenaline, in willful denial of the way his head swam when he stood up or the way his lungs burned after even a brisk walk, listening to the faded joy of a community it was growing more apparent he hadn’t really been part of even when he was there.
But even so… sometimes he could hear Nancy Wheeler’s voice asking and answering questions in chemistry and remember the way she smiled at him in the halls before ducking her head into her books. He could picture the way she tucked her hair behind her ear every time he asked her a question. He could remember when he’d seen her over summer break, chasing her brother through Melvald’s, the way she’d sworn like a sailor at the kid, and her mortified expression when she and Steve had made eye contact. He could remember the pinched horror on her face melting into a chagrined smile when he fucking beamed at her because it must be nice to have a little brother and because it was the first time she’d seemed real. He could close his eyes and think of the secret smile they might have shared if he was actually there, if things were normal and he wasn’t… dead or whatever he was. He didn’t really know. He tried not to think about it too much.
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It happened on a moonless night in August, two weeks before school was supposed to start, and Steve Harrington was taking a walk. His parents had just left again and they couldn’t have been bothered to… He swiped at his eyes. It was dumb. He’d had a good day. His parents were supposed to come home tonight or tomorrow and the house had been spotless. He’d gone for two hours, two stupid, fucking hours, to grab a milkshake with Tommy and his on-again off-again girlfriend Carol. He’d been gone for only two hours and come home to a new note on the counter with a promise to be back in six weeks, a stack of cash, and instructions to buy something ‘presentable’ for school.
So, predictably, his parents had come and gone without a backwards glance. Even more predictably, Steve somehow hadn’t predicted that and had allowed himself to… to what? Get excited? Clean the fucking house top to bottom like they’d be around long enough to fucking check for dust? Fill the fridge with ingredients to cook a fucking five-star meal like they’d actually be there to eat it? What a goddamn joke.
So, yeah, maybe it wasn’t a great idea to go waltzing around in the dark, but Steve couldn’t stomach another night in that empty house. It was really just his luck that a hulking monster lumbered out of the woods and directly onto his driveway. Just his luck that he threw enough parties when his parents were gone that the neighbors had long tuned out any noise that came from his yard. Just a nice cherry on top of the fucking cake that, even if anyone did hear him screaming when claws tangled in his jacket and pulled, Steve honestly wasn’t sure they’d have cared enough to bother anyway.
Go figure the thing that actually ended up saving his ass was some asshole’s leftover broken bottle tangled in the underbrush. He was flailing, screaming, hands raking the ground for purchase when his fingers circled on jagged glass. He swiped it back and something howled. Steve rolled right out of his jacket ready to swing at, God, he didn’t know what he was expecting, but it sure as fuck wasn’t some elongated corpse without a face. Something straight out of a movie or a nightmare.
“No, no, no. no, absolutely not happening!”
Steve bolted right the hell out of there. He ran without actually seeing, straight to Benny’s. Benny was a good guy, had been giving Steve milkshakes since he was ten. He’d let him hang out until Steve calmed the fuck down and… he didn’t know. Called Tommy and invited himself over like a baby?
It was only after standing in the diner entrance catching his breath that Steve started to notice things were wrong. And honestly… how hadn’t Steve noticed it was unusually quiet for early evening? That there was absolutely no one in the diner? That the only thing holding up the crumbling walls were sprawling vines? That the dots in his vision weren’t clearing because there was shit floating in the air? That his breath was puffing in front of him in little clouds because it was freezing?
Nope. No. Steve squeezed his eyes shut. He took a steadying breath and opened them again.
Still the same.
What the hell?
So there might have been some initial panicking.
Steve may or may not have run around the diner shouting like an idiot for someone to hear him. He definitely heard the echo of voices in the kitchen and burst through the door, practically vibrating with relief and fading adrenaline only to trip over more vines and tumble into yet another empty room. The lights buzzed overhead, flickering. But nothing changed, and there was no one there.
God, it was cold.
Steve picked himself off the floor. Totally not panicking because this was definitely normal. This was definitely on his list of expectations for the day. He absolutely woke up this morning and thought, yes, my plans for today are wake up, get ready, clean the house, get a milkshake, see mom and dad, get ambushed by a monster and end up in….
...Monster.
Shit. Had that… actually been real? Looking down at his torn, dirtied jeans and the dirt packed under his bloody fingernails, Steve had to admit to himself that it could have been. The lights flickered again, and he could see the hairs on his arms visibly standing. The bell on the diner door sounded, and Steve was seconds away from going to check before he heard the rumbling growl. Deliberate, heavy steps dragged in the restaurant just outside the kitchen, stalking.
Fuck. It had been real.
Steve crept through the kitchen towards the back door, partly sealed shut by vines. He grabbed one and pulled. The second he did, a primal cry rang through the diner. Steve slammed his shoulder into the door, vines be dammed. It gave way after a few tries, and Steve tumbled through, onto the street behind the diner. It was just as deserted, like a discarded afterimage. Something crashed behind him and Steve didn’t really have time to think about anything other than running after that.
Awareness filtered in like settling dust and found Steve huddled behind the locked door of his bedroom. Coughing the spores lodged in his throat and shaking from the cold, Steve forced himself into some clean, warm clothes. He crawled over the vines on his floor and tucked himself under his bed like he used to do when he was five and the small space felt safe from the world. Maybe if he closed his eyes long enough, he’d wake up to one that made sense again.