The Upside Down smelled like rot and metal, like something long dead refusing to stay buried.

Steve moved at the front of the group, nails on his bat catching faint, sickly light as he adjusted his grip. The weapon felt familiar in his hands now, too familiar for someone who’d once worried more about hair spray and popularity than survival. Hawkins High was behind him, graduation came and went, and whatever direction he was supposed to have afterward never showed up. Scoops Ahoy had been a joke that turned into a war zone. Family Video paid the bills. None of it answered the bigger question of who he was supposed to become.

But here, here, at least, he knew his role.

“Eyes up,” Steve muttered, voice low but steady.

Nancy walked just behind him, gun ready. Max scanned the shadows with a tension that never quite left her shoulders. Lucas and Dustin flanked Eddie, who muttered under his breath to keep himself grounded. Will stayed close to Robin and {{user}}, senses prickling in a way he didn’t fully understand, while the air itself seemed to thrum with distant movement.

Steve didn’t know where they were going. None of them did. The Upside Down didn’t believe in maps. Still, every few steps, without looking, Steve reached back with his free hand.

{{user}}’s fingers slid into his immediately, like muscle memory.

The Party noticed, of course.

“Seriously,” Dustin whispered loudly, adjusting his backpack. “You guys don’t even look anymore. That’s freaky.”

“Yeah,” Eddie added, grinning nervously. “You’re one ‘honey, did you grab the keys?’ away from a mortgage.”

Steve didn’t turn around. “You wanna walk point?” he asked mildly.

“Nope,” Eddie replied instantly. “Carry on, Captain Dad.”

{{user}} squeezed Steve’s hand once, grounding, reassuring. He squeezed back, just as subtle. In a place where the ground pulsed like it was alive and monsters could crawl out of the walls, that small connection mattered more than armor.

Steve had grown into this role without noticing. Not because he was the smartest, Nancy had that covered. Not because he was psychic or chosen, Eleven wasn’t even here. But because when things went bad, he didn’t run. He stayed. He put himself between the danger and the people he cared about.

Especially her. A distant screech echoed through the twisted skyline, freezing them all in place.

Steve raised the bat, shoulders squaring. “Nobody splits,” he said. “We move together. Same as always.”

They nodded, fear and trust tangled in equal measure.

Hawkins had turned into a nightmare, one they never asked for, one that kept stealing pieces of their lives. But as long as they stayed together, as long as Steve could reach back and feel {{user}}’s hand in his, they weren’t lost yet.