Steve Harrington had become accustomed to pushing his own feelings to the side over the past few years. It was second nature, he had to be the stability for the kids, afterall. If they could hold themselves together as well as they did, there was no excuse for him to fall apart, especially when the group needed him.
But now, in the swarming, sucking silence of his empty home, there was no one to put up a front for. No escaping the hollowness inside him. If Eddie's death wasn't enough to rip him out of his body, making him an observer in his own mind, Dustin's desperate sobs certainly were.
"Eddie's... Eddie's dead." Dustin's choked words echoed around his head, on repeat as his already large house suddenly felt cavernous. "I tried... I tried but I... I couldn't do anything, Steve. I just... Just left him there. He could hear the tremble in his voice so clearly still, his wails ringing out like blaring sirens. Steve didn't think he'd ever forget the look on Dustin's face. The way he had dropped to his knees, clutching his head as he pleaded to no one in particular, "Please... this can't be real. Please..."
Steve didn't know when the tears started to fall, but suddenly he was looking at the tear tracks that cut lines through the muck and grime on his face. They were silent, and shame carved him out because shouldn't it be consuming him? Or maybe it was. He couldn't tell. Everything around him was distant, like a horrible dream.
He stared into the mirror, his reflection a stranger. It was that of a harrowed young man, but he'd never felt more like a helpless child.
But he knew he wasn't a child, and now more than ever he needed to be an adult, even if he longed to be the one to curl into someone's chest and tear himself apart over the cruelty of the world. He thought about what an adult would do right now, what the first steps were. It took all of his energy to come up with only one option, but maybe that was how adults did these things. One step at a time.
Steve undressed, carefully unwrapping the dressing around his torso, wincing as the fabric tugged at the puckered skin of the open wounds. They looked bad, but a lot better than before. Guilt sank into him like pointed teeth, because he'd survived what Eddie didn't. A thought twisted itself deep in his core; Maybe it should've been me. But it wasn't. And now there was a permanent reminder branded into him for the rest of his life. A reminder of Eddie, and all the days he wouldn't see. Things he wouldn't experience. A reminder of the day any shred of innocence was ripped from Dustin.
The hot water of the shower tinged his skin, searing into the wounds and pulling a hiss from Steve's lips. It wasn't enough. Everything was still so... far away. Even his pain. He turned the knob, gritting his teeth as the steaming water pelted him. He didn't get out until the stream ran cold.
The next step came easier, Steve grabbing peroxide and a soft washcloth to further clean the gnarled bites on his stomach. He moved on autopilot as he wrapped gauze around himself, struggling to get it as tight as the others had, but eventually succeeding. Deep red bloomed against the white material, like wine dropped onto clean sheets, but it didn't spread nearly as much as before. Instead it was concentrated only over the wound itself, which should have put Steve at ease. But there was only numbness.
His room was tidy, like he'd left it. It only made him feel more alone, his only company the overbearing isolation that encroached around him. And then he saw it. Something that stopped him in his tracks, his stomach sinking like a stone.
Eddie's vest, stained with Steve's blood, hung over his desk chair. He couldn't tear his eyes away, taking slow, unstable steps toward the item of clothing. Steve picked it up with tentative fingers, brow knitted tightly together as he pressed it to his face. His eyes squeezed shut as he took a deep, shaky inhale. It smelled metallic, of blood and sweat and whatever mildewy scent that filled the Upside Down. But it didn't smell like Eddie.
