You Never Said Goodbye.

2: So I Thought I'd See You in an Hour, a Day.

It was a trial run, trying to sleep that night, Dustin decided. He didn't think he would until he passed out. His body was wrapped in blankets on his couch of Steve Harrington. His house had become the designated crash spot for Robin and Nancy already, so Dustin was no change.

Steve had retreated to the shower and attempted to sleep in his bed but had emerged from the staircase, shaking like he had seen ghosts, which was understandable. Thank god Dustin couldn't see him. But Robin could. She had been getting a glass of water, and ended up with 2, leading Steve back upstairs and sitting him down, handing him the glass, which he downed, and holding his hand at first when he started quivering again, her arms eventually holding him as he sobbed into her shoulder.

Robin held him and decided against asking him why he was ripping at the seams, considering their situation. She held him until he stopped shaking, and sat on the bed with him as he began talking.

"I really didn't think I'd lose him that fast." He mumbled, his eyes reflecting the lighting of the lamp lit across the room. "I'd only just begun to know him."

And Robin knew what this was about. He really had moved on from Nancy. So much so that he'd let himself like another.

"He was a lot nicer than you expected, huh?" She responded, hr weak and watery chuckle clinging to the dry air.

"He was more than just nice or weird he was himself." Steve wiped his face with his arm again. "And he wasn't afraid to say things or feel the ways he did and he spoke his every thought." He sniffled. "He grew his hair out and it was obnoxious and long and he never brushed it and it wasn't soft or perfect but it was him." Steve reached up to brush his hair back, his soft locks had tumbled around his face, his post-shower unstyled hair. "He kept hair tyes on his wrist and wore a bandana in his pocket and I know it meant something." He twirled his fingers around the hem of his shirt. "He always looked at me like I was new. Like I was something fragile and breakable that he wanted to play around with, like when you're told not to touch something and all you want to do is touch it." Steve reached out as he spoke, his hand flinching back at the end of his sentence, and he had to stop talking and pull his knees to his chest because he had closed his eyes momentarily and he'd seen the doe eyes of Eddie Munson devoid of life.

Robin ran a hand over his back, she was tired, and she was trying to signal she was leaving but ultimately didn't know how and placed a hand on his as she whispered a simple goodnight, leaving him to cry and sleep on the floor of his hall, leaning against the wall listening to her best friend cry. She couldn't have stayed. She never would have slept. He never would have either. But he had. He had slept in through the night until 9 am the next morning, and Robin had slept in till 10, grateful for the sleep she had gotten.