After swiping both a keycard and car-keys from an unconscious guard, you all escape the room that held Robin and Steve.
You stumble behind, unable to stop the world from incessantly spinning after being jabbed with that needle by the Russian doctor.
The drug hits hard and fast. First, you get dizzy - it washes over you like a tidal wave until you're drowning in your high. Next, unrestrained giggling.
Squashed inside some miniature car, driven by Dustin, three of you rattle around in the back. The three of you that were drugged, at least; Erica takes shotgun.
"Jesus, slow down!" Steve grunts, slamming into you both.
"Yeah, what is this, like, the Indy 500?" Robin is overcome by her own uncontrollable giggles.
"It's the Indy 300." Steve offers.
"No, dingus, it's 500!" Robin corrects.
"Let's say a million!" You blurt, causing you all to erupt into another bout of wild laughter.
Then, as if truly noticing you for the first time since her rescue, Robin's eyes snap open and her mouth drops ajar; she gasps before roughly taking your shoulders into both her hands.
"Y/N!" She breathes. "You were right! You were right all along! Monsters... they exist! Steve explained everything to me!"
"Holy shit, right? How freaking crazy is that?!"
"It's totally batshit bonkers!" You feel her shake you a little as she talks, her eyes wide, and... is that a hint of sadness swirling in the irises? "Now, I get it. I get why you could never tell me."
Your voice rises with emotion, almost sobbing at the fact that Robin knows. And she doesn't just know... she understands.
"It's not just monsters either. There's a whole worrrrld of shit you don't know," You cup her cheek with a blood-smeared hand. "Robin, it's been so awful not being able to tell you."
The girl shuts her eyes and holds your hand against her face, the words she slurs not tumbling from her lips fast enough.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm sorry I yelled at you last year. I'm sorry I tried to get you to tell me."
"No," You cry. "I'm sorry for keeping everything from you. Things have been so weird between us."
"So weird!"
"I hated it."
"Me, too!"
"I love you, Rob."
"I love you!"
You grip each other so tight it's as if you were trying to climb into each other's skin. Tears sting your eyes, the feeling heightened by your drunken state - the feeling of relief.
You're relieved that it's finally over, keeping Robin in the dark, and the catharsis is unlike anything you've ever felt before. After years of guilt-ridden secrecy, you're lighter than air.
There, you just hold one another for a moment, babbling incoherent I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorries over and over in unison until Dustin crashes the car again.
The sudden brake of the wheels flings you forward. Steve's forehead collides with your own with a smack. Robin hurtles into the metallic grate of the vehicle. You tumble into her lap, winding yourself in the process.
All three of you grumble in pain.
"You guys alright back there?" Dustin calls and you labour to award him a thumbs up.
Bustling into the elevator, the one that brought you to this hellhole, Dustin slots in the keycard and frantically presses the button; it finally chugs to life.
"Okay, when we reach the surface, we gotta lay low." The Henderson boy advises.
"Relaxxxxx, if there's any more Russians I'll just, you know," You swipe the gun you've been holstering in your shorts, pretending to aim. "Pew, pew, pew."
"Jesus! Careful with that thing!" Dustin holds two palms up as you would when placating a wild animal, except you're probably more unpredictable in this current state than any untamed beast.
You tip your head back and laugh.
"I'm kidding! It's not even-" The clip falls open, and a handful of bullets fall from its chamber to the floor in a series of delicate tinkles. "...loaded." You finish, sheepishly blinking.
This only makes Robin and Steve burst out into more guffaws.
Steve, amidst the hilarity, leaps onto a trolley, wobbling where he plants his feet with the span of his arms open wide.
"Hey, you look like you're surfing!" Robin exclaims, pushing the trolley so it violently swerves, making Steve wobble all the more.
"Woah! Check me out!" He calls.
"You're a natural!" You cheer. "Okay, okay, okay, my turn. Catch me!"
You throw yourself at Steve when he's not looking and tackle him to the ground.
Robin points at you both flumped on the floor.
"Wipeout!" She shouts.
Erica casts Dustin a look of concern, and the boy steps forward whispering a string of profanities under his breath. Pressing the back of his hand to your forehead, he notes the contrast between the clamminess of your skin to the the coolness of his touch.
"What's wrong with them?" Erica raises her eyebrows.
"She's burning up." He informs the young girl who responds with an exasperated tut.
"You're burning up." You tease by childishly mimicking him, flinching when he pries open one of your eyes for inspection.
You try to struggle against the way he handles you, head lolling back so he has to slip an arm behind your neck to keep you steady, finding your hair, too, is slick wet.
Your eyelids flutter against the fluorescent lights which hurt your eyes. You try to look away, but eventually, you concede and settle in Dustin's arms.
"Her pupils are super dilated," Dustin mutters. "I think they're drugged."
Erica huffs, massaging a temple.
You, failing to see the serious side to this, snigger, "How many times, dad? I don't do drugs. It was just a little marijuana that I used to smoke in the back of Eddie's van."
Steve lurches forward, cupping his hands around his mouth.
"Booooooo! Eddie!" He hollers and Robin roars and claps agreeably.
"Yeah, boooooo!" She slurs. "We like Steve. Y/N, you should date Steve."
"Like a dinner date?" You bite your lip to stifle an abashed titter before your eyes crack open with an idea, "Ooh, I could really go for a pit stop at the food court right now."
Robin knits her brow as she groans, heart quickening and mouth watering at the thought of food.
"I would kill for a hotdog on a stick," She writhes. "Y/N, you're a fucking genius."
The elavator shudders to a halt, and Dustin and Erica beckon you all out with the false promise of food, as long as you do exactly as they say and stop dicking around.
Like a hoard of naïve children led by the piper, you follow.
***
Finally above ground, back in the sea of people at Starcourt Mall, an exasperated Dustin, followed by an equally peeved Erica, shepherd you all into the movie theatre.
The idea seems smart on paper. It's dark. You can hide in the crowd. No evil Russians are likely to come bursting in, guns blazing, without causing a scene and blowing their cover.
Smart idea...
Except three of you are flying high as kites, drawing rather a lot of attention to yourselves. Every now and then, you catch a person's eye, ogling the sight that is Steve's beaten face or the bloodstains all over your clothes. You wave at them all friendly-like and, blinking, they look away, avoiding eye-contact.
One-by-one, Dustin pushes you all into a seat.
"You three, sit." He orders; Back to the Future is about to start.
Steve, writhing in a tantrum, throws his arms up then immediately back down by his sides.
"Dude, these seats blow," He loudly whines. "Me and Y/N wanna make out in the back." He gets up to kneel on his seat, craning his neck in search of dark, shadowy corners in the theatre, earning himself a few groans of annoyance from the people behind.
You splutter giddily and kick your legs, clapping your hands either side of your blushing cheeks.
Robin sticks a finger into her mouth, tongue out, forcing the sound of a gag, whereas Dustin pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs.
The boy complains, "Fine. Then don't watch the movie and make out with Y/N in the back. I don't care, as long as you're quiet."
Smiling, Steve makes a move to vacate his seat with you but Robin is next to whine in protest.
"Nooooo, don't leave me, I wanna watch it with you guys." She moans.
"Then watch it!" Dustin, at the end of his rope, hisses.
Robin tugs at Steve's sleeve.
"Hey, you know what I'm thinking?" She asks, those ocean eyes of hers twinkling brightly in the dimness of the room.
You and Steve look at her, observing the excitement twisting in her freckled face.
"Popcorn?" Steve quirks an eyebrow.
"Popcorn." She repeats.
"See, this is why I love you guys." You agree.
From behind you, the sharp sound of a shhhhh spits from the teeth of some disgruntled stranger.
Upon hearing it, your head whips immediately round to him.
"Hey, don't shhhhh me, buddy!" You slur, fumbling for the thankfully unloaded gun in your shorts, at which, a panicked Dustin snatches your hands away from yourself. Meanwhile, Robin and Steve lollop against each other, cackling at the spectacle.
"Y/N, we do not shoot random strangers." Dustin hisses.
"I wasn't gonna use it, just wave it around a little."
Dustin raises a finger to you. "No." Is all he says with a sternness that actually leaves you cowed, ignoring the tutting and the fake noises of disapproval from your two drugged companions.
Instead, you just roll your eyes and stick out your tongue at the man behind you.
The man flips you off.
"Asshole." You grumble before wriggling back down into your seat, mouth souring.
After a while, you just sit there, engrossed by the screen, every muscle in your face slack.
You blink each eye individually in an attempt to focus your blurry vision; the drug still churns through your body and whirlpools inside your head, meaning you're struggling to follow the plot of the movie. However, you're fairly sure the kid from Family Ties just made out with his mom.
This movie is fucking weird.
Despite your morbid fascination as to why anyone would want to dabble in incest, you peel your attention away to Steve, also staring up, expression twisted in horrified confusion.
You lean into him, grinning.
"Hey, wanna get out of here?" You whisper.
He inches round to you, mouth stretching chaotically wide.
"Absolutely, I do."
He turns to his other side to Robin, who has fallen asleep in her chair.
"Robin, pssst, Robin. We're leaving; we're going on an adventure," He shakes her but she does not reply. "Rob- hey, Robin. Are you coming or not?"
When the girl doesn't respond, you fail to stifle a snort.
"Oh God, did she OD?" You prod her freckled cheek.
The girl releases a light snore.
"Nope, just a lil sleepy." Steve smiles and you both reach out to her, stroking her hair and patting her face and wishing her: sweet dreams.
You check that the coast is clear, scanning dramatically from side-to-side and awarding Steve a slow, purposeful, yet haphazard wink, which he returns with a double thumbs up.
Next, you both slide messily from your seats, as if your bodies were melting puddles on the floor. Together, you begin crawling up the aisle, ensuring to duck from Dustin and Erica in case they catch you, and head for the exit.
When out, Steve grabs your arm and, giggling, you break into a run.
You find a water fountain, the sight of it making you suddenly aware that your tongue has turned to sandpaper.
Steve, too high to remember his manners, bolts to it first, acting on impulse and almost shoving you out the way. The water is ice-cold, heavenly-sent, and he snorts like a dehydrated horse as he drinks in desperation.
You lean against the wall, staring blankly off, hardly noticing the way passersby goggle at your stained shirt and bloodshot eyes.
Thinking back to the movie, you draw out your words, long and lazy.
"So, like, I wasn't totally focused in there or anything, but... I'm pretty sure... that mom was trying to bang her son."
Steve stops drinking, water dribbling down his chin.
He's breathless, "Wait, wait, the hot chick was Alex P. Keaton's mom?"
"Yeah, I'm pretty sure."
"But they're the same age."
"No, but he went back in time."
Steve snickers before returning to sup some more.
"Then why is it called Back to the Future?" He questions between gulps.
You groan a little, then motion sloppily with your arms to explain.
"He has to go back to the future because he's in the past. So, the future is actually the present, which is his time," You glance at Steve who stutters in confusion, head empty as if you'd just explained rocket science to him. You sigh and push him out of the way, "It's my turn. You've had enough."
Steve meanders off while you drink, to stare dreamily up at the ceiling. Muttering softly, quiet hums of awe escape his lips.
He calls you over.
"Hey, Y/N, you've gotta check this out."
Tearing yourself away from the relief of the fountain, you also become entranced by the celestial spectacle above - enchanting lights blink and wink from the heavens, warmly inviting you to bask in their radiant, friendly glow. In actuality, you gawk at the unpleasant fluorescence of the mall's ceiling. But anything can be sublime when you're off your tits.
"So beautiful." You spin on the spot and grunt happy little sounds of pleasure.
Steve peels his attention to you.
"Yeah, you are." He awards you a lopsided smile where you bark out a laugh.
"Oh my God, you are so fucking corny it makes me ill."
He ignores your dig and pulls you in by the waist, mumbling, "Shut up." It's a seemingly smooth motion but your current state leaves you trampling his toes. Still, he grins at you all the same.
Until, that is, you hear the bubbling of his stomach, and his face begins to green in colour. Then, all smiles quickly fade.
Steve pinches his features.
"Hey, I don't feel so good." He swallows.
A coppery taste pools on your tongue, your mouth filling with the thickness of saliva.
"Me neither."
***
You enter the ladies' bathroom in a series of sounds. The door bursting open. Steve's sneakers scudding along the floor as he throws himself at the bowl of a toilet. The retch you make as you grip the rim of a sink, puking up your guts into the basin.
When finished, you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand before catching a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. You pause. You stop breathing.
Your reflection looks gaunt and pale, and only now are you able to properly notice the dried blood on your face and neck and hair. Russian blood. All over you.
The vision is sobering to say the least, and you dip your head with a pained sigh.
As you look down, you catch sight of your ruined hands - jagged slashes gape down the middle of each palm, doomed to scar and permanently remind you of the blade you caught between them. The skin desperately tries to knit back together but even the tiniest of movements reopens them, baring them to the cold air so they smart and throb. It's almost as if looking reminds you of the sting that sears through them and you breathe a string of curses whilst staring at the way they tremble before you.
Then, from out the back of your shorts, you retrieve the gun and place it with caution by the side of the sink.
Carefully, you scoop up handfuls of cold water and run it around your face and neck, combing it through your hair, minding to use your fingertips as much as possible to avoid your cuts. Swirls of the stuff spiral down the drain, turning from deep red to light pink to clear.
After, you force yourself to meet your own gaze in the mirror again, barely recognising yourself.
The girl in front of you, is a killer.
You once told Steve: I don't wanna be a violent person.
Well, you've betrayed yourself.
A twist pulls at your stomach, and you're vomiting again, compulsively gripping the edge of the side until there's nothing left in your stomach.
There's a sting of bile in your gullet and you shake your head to clear the fog, the sudden clarity drawing your attention to a woman stood to the side of you, touching up her lipstick, staring at you in abject horror.
Her eyes lock onto your gun.
You look at her, then to the gun, then back to her again.
"I, uh, stole it from an evil Russian who was trying to kill me." You shrug with half a smirk, one of defeat and exhaustion, zero fucks given because let's face it, she won't believe you anyway and probably thinks you're some crazy person.
The woman simply leaves in a hurry, avoiding getting too close and you snuff out a dead-sounding laugh.
Jittering with languid limbs and a raw feeling in your gut, you wobble over to a cubicle beside the one where Steve is busy puking still. Sinking to the ground, you bury your head in between your knees.
You hear Steve cough and spit a few times before he sits up, leaning his back to the cubicle wall, the one that separates you both.
"You think we puked it all up?" He asks.
"Maybe. Ask me something," You give a weak smile. "Interrogate me."
"Okay. Interrogate you. Sure. Um... When was the last time you, uh, peed your pants?"
"Today. When that guard came at me with the knife."
You hear him laugh.
"Oh my God." He chuckles and you can't help but titter along.
"It was just a little bit, though." You admit.
Steve playfully rolls his eyes, tilting his head that still swims lazily atop his neck, thick and dizzy, words falling loose from his lips.
"Yeah, it's definitely still in her system," He nods. "Tell me a secret."
"A secret?"
"Yeah, anything."
You think for a moment, ruminating over what he doesn't know. It's hard; Steve's turned over nearly every stone of yours. Nearly.
"Um, okay..." You clear your throat, still thinking, until you think you've got something. "Yeah, okay. Uh, you know the other day when we were saying we have no futures?"
"Unfortunately, yes."
You shrink a little where you sit, the nerves eating away inside you.
You begin, "So, don't get mad, but that might not be entirely true for me. I just didn't wanna say anything in case I messed it up."
"Okay..." Steve knits his brow, not exactly understanding, unable to join the dots, the throb of his skull not helping. With the drugs dampening in his system, the bruising of his face grows evermore apparent, feeling like someone has taken a baseball bat with nails to his head and bludgeoned him with it.
You continue, "Yeah, um, Hop kinda felt bad that I couldn't afford to get into any colleges, so he sort of put in a good word for me at the academy."
"Academy?" He questions.
"Hawkins Police Academy... to train alongside him," You huff a breathy chuckle. "Don't worry, the irony isn't lost on me."
Your memory drifts to a couple of weeks ago, sat at Hopper's table with El, books upon books upon books spread over the wood, helping her read. He came over, piece of paper in hand, and put it right down in front of you - application papers.
It wasn't something forceful. He remembered you saying you liked the idea of it, the last few years having given you an urge to do something good for Hawkins, make it a better place, what with everything that's happened.
He said he'd put in a good word and help you get in, if you liked. There was worry etched over his features, concerned he may have overstepped a boundary, acting like a parent. But you simply threw your arms around him and he hugged you back.
Steve speaks, "I don't get it, aren't there meant to be a shit-tonne of files on you when you used to get arrested with Eddie all the time?"
That's something else Hop helped you with.
"Nope. They all... mysteriously disappeared," You brave a grin. "I guess it's one of the perks of having Hop as my-"
"-Dad?"
There's a pause while you think.
"...I guess. Though, I've never really used that word... maybe I should."
Again, your mind wanders off to dwell on this idea. Popper, you call him Popper. Yet the man who abused you still holds the title of dad. It just doesn't seem right or fair, especially when this man in your life, the one who used to chase you round in his cop car, has acted more like a father to you this past year than the one who's shared your blood your entire life.
Your decision is made.
Hopper? No. Popper? No.
He's dad.
That also makes El your sister. And that, is wonderful.
"When I get out of here, I need to tell him how much he means to me. How much I... love him, and El... I hope we get out of here so I can do that."
A hand pokes out from the bottom of the partition, reaching out to you. You grasp it between your fingers and feel him trace over your cuts, not quite touching them.
"We will." You hear his voice say.
When you get your hand back, you hold it out in front of you, studying and picking at the nails. Underneath them, the browning remnants of more blood, and you decide when you get home you'll need to clean right under them to wash away the memories.
If you get home; you're not out the woods, yet.
"Alright, alright, my turn." You swallow.
"Hit me." Steve says.
You bite your lip.
"Is whatever's going on between us... different to when you were with Nancy? Like, you were in love with her, right?"
The question makes Steve's pulse pick up at the memory of last year, when he'd constantly, ashamedly, compare Nancy to you, back when he was still in the wake of that horrible breakup.
He remembers something you once said to him.
First love. It's the worst.
He nods.
"Yep. I was." He clicks his tongue.
"Was it hard getting over her?"
He thinks about the moments he'd pine for Nancy, and then immediately hunger after you - a confusing cocktail of emotions, with a mixture of want for the familiarity the Wheeler girl provided, and a secret, sexual craving for his enemy turned best friend.
When he eventually got over Nancy, that desire he shut up within himself changed. The more time with you he spent, he was seeing you in a wholly different light.
Steve remembers another piece of advice you once told him, about love.
The feeling of burning for someone.
Steve feels fairly certain that in his life before you, he never felt as warm as now, with you as his friend, his... person... the one he knows he's supposed to be with.
He nods again.
"At first, yeah. I didn't think I'd ever be the same again, without Nance. But I was wrong; I guess I met someone better for me."
Your ears prick at this particular detail.
"Yeah?" You smile. "Who's that?"
"Just this girl I used to despise," He quips with a light, playful air. "And to answer your question from before, yes, it's different to Nancy... in a good way. I think it's how things are supposed to be."
How things are supposed to be.
Like, you were made for each other.
"You wanna know what the first thing this girl ever said to me was?" He asks.
You snicker.
"Remind me..."
"She said: what the hell are you staring at, pretty boy?"
Your snicker grows louder, into a proper laugh.
"Wow. What a bitch." You state.
"Totally. But to be fair, I was staring," Steve takes a big gulp, fully aware of the heat in his cheeks. "Yeah. I remember her first day at Hawkins High. She arrived a little late in the semester... looking totally lost with a face like sour grapes. She wore these big dumb combat boots she'd sort of, stomp around in."
"So cool."
"The coolest," He continues, "She took a seat right next to me and brought out a packet of smokes and a pocket knife which immediately got confiscated."
He delves fondly into his memories, to that day. Before you became the girl he hated. Before he realised it wasn't hate at all.
"I was... fascinated. From the moment she walked in my form room, with a face like a mess. A beautiful disaster. And I couldn't believe the first thing she said when she caught me gawking was: what the hell are you staring at, pretty boy?"
"Bet you hated that." You snort.
"Couldn't fucking stand it; she was, like, the one person who didn't give a shit about who I was. She was a total dickhead. The worst. Then the rumours started flying in about her being a damaged slut or whatever bullshit people said...
"So I convinced myself I hated her and I don't even know why. Maybe 'cause Tommy H. would've made fun of me otherwise...
"And then, one cold night in 1983, I picked her up on the side of the road, and she called me an idiot and dissed my music, and the rest is history. She became my best friend. She taught me things about myself I was afraid of...
"She's hilarious. She's so funny. I feel like, since knowing her, I have laughed harder than I have ever laughed in my whole life. And she's smart, way smarter than me. She's tough, but kind. A major pain in my ass, like, she drives me fucking insane. And, you know? She's honestly unlike anyone I've ever met before."
His confession steals your breath away; even though you'd become very aware he liked you, wanted you, you'd never considered the fact he was falling in love with you.
Steve notices you've gone uncharacteristically quiet, not even with some sarcastic comment to make, and the partition between you both gives no clues to how you've taken it.
"Y/N, did you just OD in there?"
"I am... still alive," You take a steadying breath. Next, you see his legs shooting underneath the cubicle, scrambling through to your side. You tut, "The floor's disgusting."
"Yeah, well, I already got a bunch of blood and puke on my shirt, so... what do you think? About this girl?"
"She sounds awesome."
"She is awesome," He self-consciously scratches the squareness of his jaw before shooting you a sidelong glance with the biggest, darkest, saddest eyes. "And what about the guy?"
You notice how his Adam's apple bobs after asking this question.
Meanwhile, his heart thrashes against his ribs like a caged bird, waiting and hoping to hear that you feel the same.
You do. Of course you do.
Placing fingertips to his thigh, you lean in. "I adore the guy. I've liked him for a very long time, and not just as friends," Steve bristles a bit with excitement. "But I also think he's on drսgs, and he's not thinking straight."
At this, his face hardens with a set determination.
He firms his voice, "Really? 'Cause I think he's thinking a lot more clearly than usual."
"He's forgetting about the part where the girl went on a rampage just a few hours ago."
You glance down at your nails again, picking more at the dried blood, feeling razorblades in your throat as you swallow.
Gently, and carefully, Steve takes your hand into his, pulling you reluctantly away from your task of nail-picking so you have to meet his gaze.
"All I know is that she made a hard decision in a life or death situation." He utters softly, dipping down to your eyeline and not letting up so you have to stay there, beholding him and the resoluteness in his face.
"It wasn't that hard," You admit, guiltily. "Believe me. If anything were ever to happen to you, it would never be that hard. And that's why you can't be falling for me right now."
"Y/N. It's for that exact reason, and all those other reasons, why I'm falling for you."
Every fibre of your being screams: yes.
But you avert your eyes from him that Steve has to cup your cheek and bring your face back up to his once more.
"It should scare you." You say.
"Well, it doesn't."
"You're crazy."
"Maybe I am, but I'm okay with that," He shrugs then flashes you a look. "Remember, if the sky that we look upon, should tumble and fall..."
It sounds odd at first, and a little corny, but there's no denying him reciting the lyrics to your favourite song sets your heart all aflutter.
So, you continue the lyrics, just speaking them, not singing, "Or the mountain should crumble to the sea.."
"I won't cry. I won't shed a tear..."
"Just as long as you-"
"-Stand by me," He finishes and nods. "That's what I'm here to do. Always."
There's a beat of silence where you just stare at one another for a good, long while, achingly quiet, the air hanging heavily with disbelief, or anticipation, or perhaps expectation.
"Let me take you out," Steve almost pleads, especially when an uncertain smirk quivers on your lips. "Come on. Let me take you out sometime... say we finally get out of this shitty Russian business, I don't know, maybe we could... go to the fair in town, or something?"
You raise your eyebrows and he continues to stare openly to await your response. God damn his eyes.
"Like, a date?"
He huffs out a short laugh, raw and throaty, scrunching his face whilst brazenly blushing.
"Yeah, a date, numb-skull. I could win you a teddy-bear, and- and I don't know, maybe we make out on the Ferris wheel and watch the fireworks, and then go home and dance to Ben E. King again."
You want so badly to accept, his words sinking deep into you and warming you with a fuzzy feeling like kindling.
But Steve knows you're still unsure, torn. Luckily, he's fully intent on knocking down those walls you've suddenly built around yourself.
He strokes the cheek he still cups.
"You once told me you're open to falling for the right person. Well, I'm it. So, what'dya say?"
Well, I'm it.
You stew in his words that resonate so strongly within you, and before long, that fuzzy feeling of kindling burns brighter than ever before. Burning. You're burning for him as he is for you.
You allow yourself to ease into a smile, letting it seep into your cheeks until they ache. Seeing this, Steve relaxes.
"I say, it sounds super corny, but I love it. Deal," Your small smile grows an inkling more when he pulls you into the smoky lavender of his embrace, making you giggle delightedly into the crook of his neck, murmuring, "I guess I'd better let Eddie down easy."
Steve finds it very hard to feel guilty.
"Yeah, there is that," He hums, still grinning ear-to-ear and moving swiftly on, "Hey, maybe in the future, if Robin ever finds a nice girl, we could double-date?"
"Easy there, Romeo, we've not even been on one-"
You pull away, holding him at arm's length, trying to harden your gaze but betraying yourself with the ever obvious incredulity seizing each muscle in your face.
"-Wait, did you say girl?"
"Yeah..."
"Robin told you?"
"She did. She even told me about Tammy Thompson."
You pull him almost roughly back into your arms.
"Thank you," You hold him tight. "You have no idea how important it is to me she told you that; it means she trusts you."
"She's awesome." A swell of pride blooms in his stomach.
You snicker, "Hey, maybe you could talk some sense into her and get her to forget about Tammy?"
"Believe me, I tried. Even told her she sounds like a Muppet."
You suddenly let go of him, holding him at arm's length to gasp in sudden realisation.
"Oh my God! You're right!" You point in enthusiastic agreement and he nods along with glittering eyes. "She totally sounds like a Muppet!"
Steve, grinning, adopts the thick throatiness of Kermit the Frog, singing one of Tammy's favourite tunes.
"And if you could hold me tight..." He begins.
"We'll be holding on forever..." You continue, just as nasally. "Fuck me, she's tone deaf."
"Thank you! That's what I said!"
Together, you dissolve into a fresh fit of laughter. It's all-consuming, and your already raw and sickly stomachs hurt because you laugh so hard.
Steve slaps your thigh and you lollop to the side into his lap.
Lost in the moment, it would seem the only thing to rupture your hysteria, is the sharp shout of Dustin, having finally found you with Erica and Robin tailing behind.
"Okay. What the hell?!" He barks, but you both continue to choke over your cackles, and Steve awards you another slap to your thigh while you point at Dustin and laugh some more.
Barreling through Dustin and Erica, who stand there with arms folded over themselves, Robin launches over the pair of you on the floor to blow chunks into the toilet.
You haul yourself onto your knees, trying to hold back your friend's hair but sucking in your teeth at the pain in your hands.
"I got it." Steve stands in, taking a handful of the Buckley girl's tresses and holding them out of her face.
You watch admiringly, but fail to suppress a smirk.
"Jeez, Rob. You've turned green!" You remark.
"Awh, leave her alone," Steve sniggers as he rubs her back. "It's not easy being green. Right, Buckley?"
Robin, still puking, flips the pair of you off for the blatant Kermit the Frog dig.
***
Dustin peers round the crack in the door of the ladies' bathroom, scanning the area with the utmost caution.
He gives you all the nod.
Then, you're slinking out one after the other, every muscle in your body tight and teeming with a jittery energy like your body is buzzing with static. You just want to get the hell out there, out of Starcourt never to look back.
"Blend in." Dustin whispers.
"Holy shit, that worked." You offer, surprised.
"Of course it worked," The boy remarks, still ushering you all along with a quiet, yet impatient haste. "We just have to get on the bus with the rest of these plebes, and home sweet home, here we come."
Steve grimaces.
"Uh, Dustin?" He utters.
"What?"
"Yeah, we might not wanna go to your house," The older boy grits out in a guilty wince. "I might've told them your full name."
You cut your eyes at Steve, annoyed.
"Are you serious? What is wrong with you?" You consciously keeping your voice hushed, but harsh.
He holds his hands up in surrender to insist, "Y/N, I was drսgged."
You sleuth amidst the reams of people, eyes darting this way and that.
"So, you resist," Dustin grumbles. "You tough it out. You tough it out like a man."
Steve scoffs, "Oh, yeah, it's easy for you to say."
You feel a tugging on your sleeve from behind you, followed by the short sound of a breath - Robin.
"Guys?" She urges and you all freeze.
There's a man, suspiciously dressed from head to toe in black, just up ahead. In his ear he wears an earpiece, and on his hip he holsters a gun.
He's busy in the guise of mall security, checking the purse of some clueless woman.
He sees you.
These fucking sailor outfits, you swear to God.
"Run." You swallow.
Climbing over a barrier, you take turns to slide down the centre of the escalators; you don't even care the friction nips at the backs of your thighs, you're too focused on escaping.
Dotted around the fast emptying mall, more guards, guns primed in their hands.
"Okay, Y/N, time to go Creedence Clearwater Revival on these dicks again." Dustin hisses in a panic.
You huff a breathy chuckle, flat and unimpressed, "You're kidding right? With these hands?"
Holding them up for him to see, Dustin clearly notes the mess that is your palms and his stomach plummets to his ass.
"Shit. Hide."
Quickly, you all crush yourselves behind a stand in the food court, crudely tucking your knees as tight to your chests as possible before collectively holding one single baited breath.
Dread fills you.
You sense him - a guard, tiptoeing evermore close to your hiding place. His voice is thick with Russian, murmuring commands into an earpiece; the louder his voice becomes, the clearer it is that he's nearby.
You've been found.
So numb with fear is your body, you hardly register Steve's fingertips brushing your wrist.
Meanwhile, your pulse pounds your ears and your vision grows blurred.
This can't be it.
After all this.
The sound of boots steps nearer to other side of the counter, and you swear you feel your heart burst.
Then...
There's a clang of metal. A screech. Some yelling. A crash. After, nothing.
You frown and flash the others a look to find they're equally bewildered to what just happened.
Slowly, you inch round and reach over where you cower, emerging with the alertness of prey.
Below, dead Russians, crushed underneath a car that's been thrown.
Above, a small figure, the one of a girl's. She stands with feet wide apart, her arm outstretched before her. Curling round her lip, the bright red tendrils of a nosebleed.
Seeing El in all her glory, you cry out in both relief and horror, happy to see her, saddened to wonder why.
Dustin raises his arms and cheers.
"You flung that thing like a Hot Wheel!" He laughs.
Robin sidles up to you.
She whispers, trembling as she speaks, "Hey, Y/N? Isn't that the girl you tutor?"
"She's my sister," You reply, proud. "And yeah, she's got superpowers."
Meeting Robin's disbelieving gaze, you tilt your head to explain.
"She threw that car with her mind." You simply state, with an impassivity that suggests to your friend this is old news.
"I'm sorry?"
You chuckle knowingly and pat your friend on the shoulder.
"Oh, sweet girl, I cannot wait to fill you in on everything."
Unable to contain yourself, you run ahead to fling your arms around El and Max and they bury themselves into your warm embrace.
"You look like shit." Max snickers into your ear.
"Yeah? You and me both, Mayfield," You grin. "You have no idea how glad I am to see you two."
The rest of you all crowd round in a circle, your clamourous confusion evident as you try and piece together the huge, complicated puzzle with the many missing pieces.
"Who were those guys?" Lucas asks.
"The Russians!" Steve repeats.
"What are you talking about?" Mike questions.
"We have a full blown Red Dawn situation." Dustin emphasises exasperatedly.
Max frowns. "So, this has nothing to do with The Gate?"
"This has everything to do with The Gate!" The Henderson boy spits.
Shattering the hubbub, the girl you just called your sister, yelps out in pain before dropping to the floor.
You fly down to catch her.
"El? El?!" She writhes in your arms and you take her chin, turning her face towards you. You see how very pale she's gone, cheeks and lips drained completely of colour like winter-faded rose. "Hey, hey, hey, sweetie, what's wrong? Are you hurt?" You ask the others for help, "What's wrong with her?"
Eleven reaches down, stretching her fingers towards where a bandage sticks to her shin.
"My leg." She sucks in her teeth.
Your head snaps up to meet the horrified glares of the rest of them, the group she arrived with - Max, Mike, Lucas, Will, Nancy, Jonathan. Like El, they appear exhausted and drained of life, their eyes sagging and hollow like they've been carved out their faces.
"What have you all been doing?"