After the last battle in Hawkins, everything changed.

You and Steve were together — not perfect, but trying. He carried guilt like a heartbeat: Eddie, the kids, his almost-death. You carried fear: losing him, losing yourself, losing all of it.

And somewhere between hospital visits, funerals, Vecna rumors, and Hawkins cracking open like a rotten seed, you two stopped meeting in the middle. Conversations turned into half sentences. Touches turned into flinches. You both walked away thinking the other already had.

No fight. No goodbye. Just absence.

And it hurt worse than a break.

You didn’t speak for months — until Dustin vanished.

⸻

Cold autumn air leaks through the broken passenger vent. You sit shotgun, arms crossed, pretending the proximity doesn’t burn. Steve drives, posture stiff, jaw locked like he’s afraid words might slip out if he relaxes.

Jonathan sorts equipment in the back — map, flashlight, walkie, Demogorgon-scarred knife.

“Roads are confusing as hell out here without Dustin calling every turn,”

You spoke softly, bitter. “you didn’t have to ask me to come.”

He scoffs, eyes fixed ahead.

“I didn’t. Hopper did.”

That lands. It shouldn’t — but it does. You’re here because Dustin is missing, not because Steve wanted you beside him. The engine hum fills the silence that neither of you is brave enough to break.

⸻

Half an hour in, tension spills into words — sharp and familiar.

“You could’ve reached out, you know. I waited a month.”

Steve’s quiet but edged. “and I waited for you.”

“You left first.”

“I thought you needed space. you were terrified — we both were.”

Your throat tightens. Because it’s true. You were scared of how much you loved him — how close you came to losing him under Vecna’s vines.

“I needed you to fight for us. Not—not just stay quiet.”

Steve looks at you like you’re something holy and painful.

“I would’ve. you never asked.”

“I didn’t know i had too.”

Voices are now raised. Jonathan finally snaps.

“Both of you — shut up. seriously. we’re hunting monsters, not doing couples counseling.”

He huffs, crossing his arms, but one last comeback slips out.

“In this case? maybe he’s right. i don’t wanna talk to you right now.

You meet his eyes fully for the first time. “Yeah. well… I don’t wanna talk to you either.”

But his stare doesn’t break. It lingers. Heavy. Charged. Like there’s still a universe of things he wants to say.