Chapter Text
Life in Hawkins was supposed to be boring.
It was supposed to be the predictable simplicity of a small town who's charm had died a long while back.
It was supposed to entail having to stay up late helping(or trying to help) your brother with his homework or, chasing after him and his friends over the whole town when they snuck out.
What life in Hawkins was not supposed to be was having a barely conscious old classmate bleeding like a faucet onto your very new couch.
You had just been settling into your new apartment- a cheap but homey place- and opening the last of your moving boxes.
It felt strange at first, moving away from everyone and starting fresh in Chicago to pursue studying medicine. You wanted to help the community and becoming some sort of medical professional seemed like the best option. It was something you enjoyed learning and had a natural knack for.
The hardest part was definitely leaving Dustin and your mom behind.
She cried for an ungodly amount of time once learning you would be moving away for uni. But Dustin took it surprisingly well once you two talked it out though he made you promise to write every week.
You had mostly kept your promise and unless you had some massive test coming up or were swamped with homework, he could expect a letter in the mailbox.
Leaving was harder than you thought, there were days you wanted nothing more than to go home and see old friends and family. Homesickness had been something you struggled with for the first year despite meeting some amazing new people.
You eventually warmed up to your new life at university after the first few years and had slipped into a comfortable routine.
It had been a week into the summer holiday and you had been planning a trip to Hawkins, hoping to spend time with Dustin and maybe meet up with Robin to continue your everloving mission of getting her to confess to Vickie- if she still liked Vickie that was.
In truth you hadn't spoken to Robin for longer than you'd like to admit. It seemed you'd both been really busy as of late so meeting up or calling had become a sparce activity.
All the more reason to visit. Calls and letters would never match the real thing.
Back on the topic of letters, it slightly worried you that Dustin's had become well...less Dustin.
The older ones had all been pages long, filled with little quirky jokes or some interesting facts he had learnt. At times you thought he was smarter than you!
But now, they were a page or two long at best.
He would talk about the most mundane things and it honestly felt like he was hiding something from you which was crazy because Dustin was the most honest kid you had ever met.
Though, you couldn't blame him if he was, you knew he had been going through a rough patch these past few years.
Will had gone missing, pronounced dead and apparently wasn't dead and never was in the first place.
You knew Dustin hadn't lost hope and it was something you admired in him.
However, he also had a habit of mixing up fantasy and reality.
Some of his letters had mentioned monsters and possession and god knows what else and you thought it was just through D&D he had coped.
But he had grown out of such things it seemed as the fairytale-esque themes had dried up and the last mention of something like that had been somewhat of a year ago.
You were starting to think he wasn't as fine as he wrote.
Which is exactly why when some of your friends had been going on a trip for the summer and were going to be driving through Hawkins, you jumped on the chance to catch a ride where they'd drop you off on their way.
You're plan was to rent an apartment for the summer and foreseeable future as you didn't want to overcrowd the house by temporarily living with your mom and Dustin.
You knew they wouldn't mind and you could probably get away with sleeping on the couch for a while since your room had apparently been transformed into a 'storage room'. Aka somewhere for Dustin to keep all his junk.
Despite already knowing they would agree, you wouldn't want to intrude and you had been saving up so you had more than enough to afford to rent an apartment for the time being.
You had evidently made the choice to move back to Hawkins fully the week before your trip. It was a sporadic choice but you felt Hawkins pulling you back into orbit and being able to see Dustin finalized the thought for you.
You could continue the last of your studies from Hawkins or if worst came to worse you could finish at Hawkins Uni.
Being there for Dustin was all that mattered and you had a suspicion something worse had been going on due to his sudden change in letters.
You called Robin, nervously tapping your foot on the floor waiting for her to pick up. She was never good with answering the phone.
When she eventually did pick up, you explained your idea and made plans to meet up sometime in the second week of moving back.
This was it.
You had decided and it was final. You would move back to the small town of Hawkins.
So that's exactly what you did.
The deja vu of unpacking boxes and bags you had brought from your now old apartment in Chicago didn't go unnoticed.
The act of moving back presented its own set of challenges.
You had meant to stop by the house to surprise Dustin yet had got caught up showing your friends where the gas stations was.
Then, it had started pouring down so you had just gone to the apartment instead of making the trek to your old home.
Hey, it's the middle of summer, how were you meant to know it would rain?
After changing into some comfy clothes you all but collapsed in front of the TV on a shitty sofa you had bought on the fly.
It was some sucky TV show about ghost hunting that you were ready to try sleep to. But you got invested within the first ten minuets. It was mindnumbing and obviously staged yet somehow enjoyable.
It was no surprise that you couldn't fall asleep nearly an hour later.
Your body was used to staying until stupid o'clock because of your studies so it was no surprise that after a few hours you couldn't fall asleep even if you tried.
You debated actually getting some work done eventually choosing against it as doing work on a Friday night while everyone you knew was out doing stuff or partying felt a little sad.
You were halfway through your third cup of instant coffee (because sleep had decided to dance entirely out of your reach tonight), when the knocking started.
The first knock was polite. Almost apologetic.
The second was frantic raps against the door that echoed throughout the room.
The third sounded like someone slamming their whole goddamn body against the wood as if repeatedly hitting it would make the door open faster.
It didn’t stop until you flipped the lock and wrenched the door open with the kind of murderous energy only someone who’s been awake for thirty-three hours straight can muster.
You opened your mouth ready to verbally eviscerate whoever thought this was an acceptable hour for a social call.
But what greeted you wasn’t a drunk neighbor or a car accident victim or even a particularly persistent raccoon.
No, what greeted you was chaos personified.
A particular mash of people you would have never guessed to be in the same room as each other let alone all huddled in your doorway looking like they had been run over by a truck.
Robin was at the front covered in some suspiciously dark stains and looked like she had been dragged through a muddy forest backwards.
She let out a sigh of relief when you opened the door and she sagged against the doorframe as if her legs had simply given up which was a viable option knowing her.
Nancy and Johnathan were behind her.
Both of them looked like they had been through hell and in one hand Nancy was clutching a shotgun as if it were some sort of comfort toy.
Nancy Wheeler. A shotgun.
You has never ever thought those words would string together in a sentence.
There was something odd about her that you couldn't place. But doing a once over she indeed looked different compared to the last time the two of you had met.
Gone was the neat half up half downs and the preppy clothes. No, this Nancy looked like someone who could tell you how to work some sort of elaborate gun and then stare at you as if you should know how to already.
Jonathan wasn't too far away from her but he too had dirt on his face like he had hit the floor several times. His hair was plastered to his face and probably drenched in sweat.
They were all panting so you could assume that had attempted to run the journey to your home from wherever they had been.
You had met the two on multiple occasions as all your younger siblings were friends.
While they weren't the type of people you would usually hang out with, you didn't mind a quick conversation with one or the other if you bumped into them in town.
The two had never been friends with each other and didn't even know Robin as far as you could recall so why they were all cramped at your door looking like they did was a mystery to you.
It was only then that you noticed both of them were supporting a forth person between them.
His head was sagged downwards but there was no denying who it was after a quick glimpse.
Everyone at Hawkins had known who he was when you were at school- the hair was a dead giveaway.
This was Steve fucking Harrington.
Former king of Hawkins Highschool, captain of the school's swim teem, and well, currently looked like death warmed over.
The shirt he was wearing had been shredded across the ribs into ribbons and soaked crimson. One eye was already swelling shut, the other was glassy and wandering slowly like he was expecting something to jump out. His hair- his stupid, perfect, gravity-defying hair- was matted with sweat and dirt and what you prayed was only mud.
He looked like he had gone ten rounds with a woodchipper and lost every single one.
Now, you didn't have anything against Steve Harrington. But, you didn't have any reason to like him either.
You had both interacted on multiple occasions while you were at school. A pair assignment here, a group project there. A small task during detention or an awkward acknowledgement of each other while passing through the hallways.
Even so, there were no meaningful associations or important interactions.
It simply was.
So, in short, Steve was like most things in your life- neutral in the simplist of forms.
He wasn't bad or bullied you or gave you any personal reason to hate him. You had no vendetta against him, no bitter thoughts.
But, you had no clear reason to want anything from him, no reason to want to speak with him, no positive data to make an assumption.
Nothing.
Steve was a specific type of guy.
The type you avoided.
The type to be dating one girl one minuet than another the next.
The type to throw loud parties, to drink, to show off, all to get people to like you.
The type to try anything(desperately) to get the class to laugh and then preen at the attention and act as if he had done it just because he could.
The type to be friends with sucky people, bad people, who clearly shouldn’t be friends with one another but are hanging out because they all happen.to be the most popular at the time.
He was attractive no doubt, but, from what you remember he wasn't anything special.
And what good is attractiveness if that's all someone is? What good is being pleasing to look at if that's the only thing you are capable of?
The real world sucks.
It doesn't matter what you look like, it matters what you have to offer. And to you, Steve had nothing to offer. Nothing you would want from him that you couldn't get from any other typical person.
But that was it. He was a person. A person who needed help. He had flaws and it's not like you'd spoken to him enough to dictate whether he was to be determined good or bad.
Hell, he was seemingly hanging out this ragtag group so maybe he really had changed.
He saw you and tried to smile. It came out more like a grimace that had been punched in the teeth.
“Hey,” he slurred, voice thick and wet. “You’re… taller than I remember.”
You blinked once. Twice.
Then your medical-student brain finally caught up to the horror movie unfolding on your doorstep.
“Jesus Christ- get him inside. Now.”
Jonathan and Nancy nodded, both trying their best to haul in what was essentially dead weight without jolting him too much or worsening his already severe injuries.
Meanwhile, Robin had already invited herself in and was frantically pulling out draws and opening cabinets- presumably looking for a first aid kit.
She was muttering something under her breath you couldn't quite catch and her eyes were darting around.
You turned away from the door to direct her towards the bathroom where you kept the classic med kit.
But, you knew that most likely wouldn't be able to fix all Steve's wounds so, you too began ransacking the living room to find where you had stashed those pesky test kits and medical supplies in general.
You were crouched down, opening and searching through a unpacked box when Steve's voice broke the tense silence.
His voice cut through the quiet like a needle through water.
"Nooo...m'fine. I...can walk by m'self. Just got the wind knocked outta me is all."
It was slurred and whiny in a way you could only describe as childlike.
Looking up, you saw him wriggling in his friends' grip and attempting to walk to the couch himself.
Nancy shared a look of annoyance with Johnathan as the two tried to keep him still without dropping him.
At this point, they were practically dragging him across the floor while his shoes scraped the carpet. He still persisted and somehow managed to free himself and began trying to walk the short distance himself.
There was a small sound of triumph from him that was promptly cut off when his legs had simply given up. They buckled under the weight of him, making both Nancy and Johnathan lunge forward, cursing loudly, and fumbling to grab at his arms and torso so that he wouldn't collide with the corner of your table.
They succeeded in catching him before he could fully fall and his head lolled to the side with his face screwed up in an honest to God pout.
He groaned in what you could only assume was pain when they pulled him properly to his feet.
You were going to help carry him the last of the way since you had managed to find a medical bag hidden at the bottom of the box.
How conveniently placed. Not.
But, before you could reach him, a fifth member intercepted and joined in to help.
They were significantly shorter than the rest of the group so it was understandable if you didn't notice them if they were at the back.
In the confusion you must have simply missed the person entirely.
Speaking of said person, you could only see the back of their head which was a nest of brunette curls. It was a boy.
The curls reminded you of Dustin's hair which you had gotten used to loving after having to painstakingly brush it when you mom was out.
Though it must just be a coincidence.
Why would Dustin of all people be hanging out with his friends older siblings and Steve of all people?
Steve had seemed like the type of guy to make fun of someone like your brother. Huh. Maybe that was the reason you seemed hellbent on not wanting to like him.
But none of that mattered because Dustin was definitely going to be at home with your mom safe in bed, all tucked up and comfy.
That is what you believed until the boy spoke.
"Hey, hey, Steve it's okay. Oh God. Uh, don't worry you're gonna be fine. It's like- like just a scratch. Pff, I can barely see it."
His voice wavered at the end but there was no denying it.
This was Dustin.
You all but yanked him off of Steve with such a fury you were sure there was steam coming out your ears.
He made a squeak but was cut off by your shouting.
"What on earth are you doing out this late?! What are you doing? Does Mom know you're out? Does anyone know you're out? What the hell is going on?!" And most importantly, "Are you hurt?"
Dustin shrugged you off and began trying to ramble what you were sure was some shitty, half-baked excuse.
But, before you could continue this little freak out, Robin came skidding in holding the red medic box to her chest like a sheild.
"Got it! I got it!" She proclaimed and sat it down on the table along with the medical bag you had scavenged.
She began opening both and pulling random objects out while you turned back to your brother, determined to get some answers.
Before you could, Nancy interrupted.
"Y/n, Focus! Steve bleeding. Help now."
"Oh right." You muttered, letting Dustin off the hook for now.
You turned your attention to Steve who was indeed bleeding an awful amount and getting paler by the second. You had been so wrapped up in your panick for Dustin you hadn't been thinking about the matter at hand.
Jonathan had managed to hoist Steve onto your couch and was taking off what could only be considered strips of fabric as the shirt was so mangled it no longer resembled a peice of clothing.
You had just tied your hair up and shooed Johnathan away so you could try stem the bleeding with some gauze and bandages when Steve tried to sit up again.
"Lay down.' You snapped and gently- well, as gently as you could- pushed him back into the pillows.
He made a muffled sound of irritation and tried to sit up oncemore so, you pushed him back down.
"Stay."
You pulled back some more cloth just to see what you were dealing with but the second the cool air touched the gash he let out a wounded sound that made your stomach turn over.
"Shit. Shit. This is fine. This is so fine. I'm fine, you're fine. I can defiantly do this." You said under your breath which made Nancy's head snap towards Dustin.
"You said she could do this with her eyes closed! That she was trained!"
Nancy didn't mean any harm by it and you didn't take any offence.
This was evidently stressful for everyone in the room and the fact that you didn't have a medical licence and hadn't even started practicing on people yet was just a technicality. Yeah a technically.
You totally wouldn't have to explain to your landlord why there was a dead man in your living room in the morning.
"No, I said she should be able to do this with her eyes closed, and I said she was being trained not trained. Present tense." Dustin retaliated.
"Your bossy when you're mad." Steve remarked suddenly staring, like you had told him off for touching something he shouldn't instead of trying to stop him from bleeding out all over your new couch.
"Shut up." You said grabbing more supplies trying to zone out Nancy and Dustin's continuous arguing. "Can everyone just shut up?! Very tedious task over here!"
Their argument promptly stopped and Nancy went to sit near you acting as an assistant of sorts, passing you equipment and trying(poorly) to calm your nerves.
Dustin sat slouched on the armchair to your right and was watching Steve with such desperation it was unlike anything you've ever seen.
Meanwhile, Johnathan and Robin were both on the hunt for towels and anything they thought might be useful.
When they came back, arms full of things that you were sure you wouldn't need, they plopped them down next to you and went to try clean the blood off their hands as there was nothing else to do but wait.
Robin came over, hands still wet, and said "Y'know, I think you're doing a really good job! He looks way less bleedy now. Don't cha Steve?"
Steve gave a weak moan of pain in reply before promptly passing out making the group errupt into panic while you focused on closing the wounds and stopping any bleeding.
You just hoped there would be no internal bleeding as you definitely weren't equipped to help with that.
"Oh God, you've jinxed it!" Dustin wailed, covering his face and flopping properly into the armchair's arm.
That caused a whole new round of arguments to errupt and you were sure you could even hear Nancy and Johnathan snapping at each other over some nuanced subject.
You were in for a long night.