Apocalypse, Steve Harrington

Chapter Sixteen. Defender

SIXTEEN
— defender

"AND THEN, IT pounced on me, and it almost ate my face off!" she emphasized, eyes wide. "Danny, I'm telling you, that thing was like, eight feet tall."

She had never seen her brother so immersed in a conversation— so immersed in anything. His jaw was agape, his hazel eyes were wide, and he lips had formed an 'O' shape. With Lucas slobbering on her left shoulder, and Dustin snoring on her right, the twins were a full seat away from each other. They spoke in whispers, voices reduced to background noise in the hushed atmosphere of a hospital waiting room.

"Did it have muscles, or something?" he shook his head. "You're making it seem like it was really strong."

Scoffing, she raised a dismissive hand. "It's a monster from a different dimension, dipshit," Lucy widened her eyes. "Of course, it's strong! That thing toppled me over like I was made of paper." He gave her a look, without speaking— his eyes said 'touché'.

    She remembered being nine years old, sitting in a hospital waiting room with her brother. Her feet didn't touch the ground, she was surviving off of ham sandwiches, and they had played ten games of "I Spy". Her left arm had been poked and prodded at, all tests to see if her blood type was compatible with Sara's— it wasn't, and there was nothing she could do to help her sister. Danny, though, his was; he had donated, probably, a pint of blood. Point was, this gave her deja vu, being in the hospital. There was one difference, though— Sara wasn't well, but Will was. Will Byers was alive.

Her eyes darted across the waiting room, and towards Steve. He was sat besides Mr. Wheeler, his face ridden with exhaustion. A bruise was splayed across his cheekbone, and there was a small, slightly bloodied cut on the bridge of his nose. When his eyes drifted towards Lucy, she looked away— her focus was put back on her brother, who was digging in his pocket.

"Do you have a quarter?" he murmured, ugesturing to the vending machine. "I'm a twenty-five cents short."

Reaching into her jacket pocket, Lucy tossed him a coin. She watched as he shot her a thumbs up, slipped it into the slot, and dialed the number for peanut M&M's. Then, shouting filled the room. "Guys, Will's up," Mike shook his friends awake. "Will's up!"

    Turning their way, a smile spread on Lucy's lips. She watched as the three boys rushed down the hallway, excitement filling their faces. Then, Jonathan turned his attention to her. "Luce," he grinned. "He wants you, too."

Shoelaces clicking against the floor as she walked, Lucy hurried down the open hallway. She could hear the boys chattering, and she followed the sound— it led her straight to Will's room, where he lay in bed, smiling. "Will!" she beamed, planting a rough kiss on his forehead. When he made a 'bleh', noise, she ruffled his hair. "I missed you so much, kid."

"I missed you, too— I missed you all," he spoke. "You looked for me..."

She scoffed, playfully. "Duh," Lucy said, not fighting her growing smile.

    It was a special kind of contentment. After all that had happened— Will and Barbara going missing, the Demogorgan attacking, fighting for days on end— she could finally breathe. The stress in her chest has unwinded, and things were (slowly) returning to normalcy. She had never been so glad that things were slowing down— for the first time in years, Lucy was ready for Hawkins to be boring. That was normalcy.