The familiar scent of stale coffee and burnt popcorn clung to the air. You’d been here nearly every day since the others had started working shifts, a silent refuge from the sterile glare of the hospital where Max lay, her body motionless beneath the thin white sheet.

Eighteen months. Eighteen months of sitting by her bed, holding her hand, whispering whatever nonsense you could think of to make her squeeze back. But the silence was relentless, and so was the ache in your chest that no amount of willpower could soothe.

You passed the radio room, where Steve’s voice carried through the partially open door, easy and joking, trading banter with Robin. You turned toward the back, needing the weight of solitude to crush the grief you couldn’t bear to voice aloud.

But he caught up to you.

“Hey,” Steve said, his tone softening as he fell into step beside you. You could feel his eyes on your back, the same way he’d been watching you for months, like he could stitch you together with attention alone.

“Not now, Steve,” you muttered, picking up your pace. The back door creaked as you pushed it open, the night air sharp with the bite of autumn. You leaned against the wall, shoulders hunched, and waited for him to give up.

He never did.

He leaned against the adjacent wall, mimicking your stance. “You didn’t eat dinner again, did you?” His voice was quieter now, the usual goofiness stripped away.

He was scared—of losing you, of failing you, of something he couldn’t name. It made him worse.

“I need like ten more minutes before I can even look at food,” you snapped, the words hotter than you intended. Steve flinched, but he didn’t retreat. You clenched your fists. “Don’t, okay? Don’t say ‘It’s going to be okay’ or ‘Hang in there’ or whatever. You don’t get to.”

His silence stretched between you, thick with something like guilt. When he finally spoke, it was almost a whisper. “I’m trying, you know. I’m just trying to not let you fall apart.”

You let out a short, bitter laugh. “You think I haven’t already?” The words burst free before you could stop them. “She’s gone, Steve. Not gone-gone, but gone-gone. Like, even if she wakes up, she’s not gonna be her. I know what Vecna did to her. I’ve seen what he does. And you just wanna paper over it with your stupid, ‘We’re gonna fix this’ grins. Well, it doesn’t fix anything!”

“I don’t know what to say,” he admitted finally, his voice cracking.

“She didn’t want me,” you said suddenly, the words spilling out in a rush. “Do you know what I keep thinking? That maybe if I hadn’t broken up with her, if I’d just fought for her instead of being a coward, she’d still be—”

“No,” Steve interrupted, his voice firm. You blinked, surprised by the edge in it. He stepped closer, his brow furrowed like he was holding back a scream.

“Don’t you dare do that. Max didn’t leave you. She wasn’t yours to keep, not like that. You think she’d want you beating yourself up over this?” His hand found yours, his grip steady. “She’d be out here shaking you and telling you to stop.”