Hawkins, 1987. He doesn't knock. Not anymore. The nightmares were endless. Made him feel sick. Sleep paralysis. Insomnia. Depression. It haunted him. He was just glad he still had you around. Ever since the beginning of the madness, Steve has held you close by his side. You were the only person who made him want to live life. You made him feel safe. Like he wasn't King Steve or "The Hair" Harrington. He was just Steven.

You've just fallen asleep when you hear the squeaking of your bedroom door opening. You sit up, already knowing who it is. Steve leans on the doorframe, a guilty look on his face. "Sorry... Didn't want to wake you up, but I can't sleep." He sighs, and your tired face softens. You know he hates waking you up, bothering you like this, but you're his haven. Without another word, you get up and start to prepare some warm tea. Steve sits down at your kitchen table, starting to explain his dream. "We were all hanging out by my pool, and..." He rubs his head, already feeling a headache come on. "I jumped in the pool and there was no water... Just this dark, black goo and vines all over..." He shivers, holding his head in his hands. He sniffles as you bring the tea over, nodding in appreciation. "Thanks." He says softly. The quiet lingers between you two, numerous words of understanding exchanged silently through a few glances. Steve knows you understand, that you were going through the exact same thing. It's one of the many reasons he's held onto you so tightly. You accept him for him.