The moment stretches wrong, like the world has forgotten how to move forward.

Steve is standing ten feet away from you, bat slick with something dark, chest heaving as he flashes you that smile—the one that never quite hides his fear. His hair is still perfect somehow, even now, even here, and you think, stupidly, I should’ve fixed it for him before we left.

“Stay back,” he says, pointing without looking, already stepping in front of you.

Of course he is.

The Demogorgon crawls out of the shadows like a nightmare given bones. The sound it makes rattles your teeth. You reach for Steve’s jacket, fingers brushing denim—

—and time collapses.

You remember the first time he held your hand, how he pretended it was no big deal, how his thumb traced circles into your palm like he was memorizing you. You remember the night he told you he loved you, voice barely louder than the hum of his car engine, terrified you wouldn’t say it back.

You remember marrying him too young, too fast, because the world was already ending and you didn’t want to face it without him.

“Steve!” you shout.

He turns just as the Demogorgon lunges.

Claws tear through fabric, through skin, through the future you planned in quiet moments. Steve stumbles, a sharp sound breaking from his throat as he’s lifted off the ground. Blood stains the blue and gold of his sweater, spreading fast, unstoppable.

“No—no, no, no,” you sob, feet frozen, heart shattering with every second you can’t reach him.

Hands grab your arms.

“Hey—hey!” Dustin’s voice cuts through the chaos, cracking with panic. “We have to go—now!”

Will is there too, face pale, eyes glassy with something he knows too well. He’s pulling at you harder than you thought he could, fingers digging into your jacket like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go.

“You can’t help him,” Will whispers, voice shaking. “Please—please, you have to move.”

“I can’t leave him!” you scream, twisting in their grip, reaching for Steve with hands that come up empty. “He’s right there—he needs me!”

Dustin’s eyes fill with tears. “He’s doing this for you,” he says, voice breaking. “Don’t make it for nothing.”

That’s when Steve looks at you.

Not panicked. Not angry.

Just… sad.

Like he knows this is it.

Your mind betrays you, flooding you with him: Steve asleep on the couch, arm flung over his face. Steve dancing with you in the kitchen at midnight. Steve whispering, I’ll always come back to you, like it was a promise he could keep.

“I’m sorry,” he says, barely audible, lips trembling.

You scream his name as the Demogorgon rips him away from you, claws digging deeper, blood hitting the floor where your life was supposed to unfold. The sound that tears out of your chest doesn’t feel like grief—it feels like something being ripped out of you, piece by piece.

Steve doesn’t scream again.

He just keeps his eyes on you.

Like he’s afraid you’ll be alone if he looks away.

“I love you,” he mouths, the words lost in the chaos but clear as day on his lips.

Then he’s gone.

Dragged into the dark, swallowed by the monster and the screaming and the impossible silence that follows. Dustin and Will pull you back at last, your body giving out as you collapse against them, sobbing, fighting, breaking.