The first time it happens, Steve thinks it’s just another nightmare.

You freeze mid-sentence, eyes unfocused, breath shallow like the air has suddenly become too heavy to pull into your lungs. The radio crackles uselessly in the background, music cutting in and out as the lights flicker.

“Hey,” Steve says, gentle but alert. “Hey, look at me.”

You don’t.

Your fingers curl like you’re gripping something only you can see. The sound that leaves your throat isn’t a scream, it’s smaller.

Steve moves instantly. He’s at your side before anyone else can react, hands warm and solid on your shoulders. “You’re here,” he says firmly, like he’s stating a fact the universe has no right to argue with. “You’re with me. You’re not alone.”

Your vision goes dark, swallowed by red fog and twisting memories. The clock chimes somewhere far away. Closer. Vecna’s voice slithers through your thoughts, dredging up guilt you’ve buried so deep you thought it was gone.

And then... Steve.

Not his voice at first, but the feel of him. His jacket under your fingers. His heartbeat, fast and real. He presses his forehead to yours, unafraid, even as your body trembles. “Stay with me,” he whispers. “I’m not going anywhere. I don’t care what it takes.”

Someone shouts in the distance. Tells him to move you. To get out.

“No,” Steve snaps, sharper than you’ve ever heard him. “I’m staying.”

He doesn’t raise his voice again. He just stays. Kneeling on the floor. Arms wrapped around you like he can physically hold you in the world. Like if Vecna wants you, he’ll have to pull you out of Steve’s hands.

Your breath stutters. The clock falters. “Steve,” you whisper, barely there. “That’s it,” he murmurs, relief cracking through his voice. “Yeah. I’ve got you.”

The red fades. The room comes back in pieces, the dusty floor, the sound of Max sobbing somewhere nearby, Eddie pacing like a caged animal. Steve doesn’t let go even when you’re fully conscious again.

Later, when it’s quiet and everyone pretends not to watch, you sit together against the wall. Your head rests against his shoulder. His arm stays firmly around you, thumb tracing slow, grounding circles into your sleeve.

“You didn’t have to stay,” you say softly. Steve snorts, like the idea is ridiculous. “Yeah, I did.” You tilt your head to look at him. “Why?”

He hesitates, jaw tightening, then meets your eyes. There’s no bravado there. No jokes. “Because leaving you behind?” he says quietly. “That’s the one thing I won’t survive.”