#anyway have sibling bonding time | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sunderedazem · 10 months

Note

“whenever you get stressed, you do this thing with your hands. what is it?”

For Corr plz

(Odessen, following the assault on Voss, and Arcann's early defection to the Alliance)

It's...very strange, having a brother again. Especially after losing Thexan to his own blind rage and jealousy. Especially when that new brother is, by right of birth order and raw strength in the Force, the rightful heir to the throne of Zakuul, even if he had been dismissive of his claim to the throne the one time Arcann had brought it up. Especially when that new brother is a half-brother, older made younger through the preservation of Carbonite, and the parent they share brought horror and pain to both of them in such different ways.

He didn't think Corrain would find it in his heart to forgive him, after he'd nearly killed the now-younger man on Asylum, impaling him clean through on a furious lightsaber. Not after he'd ravaged the galaxy Corrain so loved, glassed planets and terrorized billions simply because he could, because he was angry at the world and couldn't take it out on Valkorion. But then Corrain had found him on Voss, had quietly confirmed their shared father - and had stretched out a hand and said "...I cannot forgive you for anyone but myself, but if you want atonement...I can help you start somewhere, Arcann."

And now here he is, standing at Corrain's side as the tiny man paces around the holotable with the Alliance's latest reports, his long white hair tied back in a neat plait. He's rubbing at the base of his neck again, a habit Arcann has slowly noticed that occurs whenever he's particularly anxious about something. But before he can say anything, can ask any questions- Lana catches the offending hand in hers, pulling the slight Jedi to a halt, and plants a soft kiss on the nape of Corrain's neck.

"Relax, my sweet Jedi," she murmurs softly. Arcann turns away, feeling like he's intruded on something precious in spite of how they're standing in the command suite, in plain view of everyone. He's not the only one to do so either - he can see Eiri rolling his eyes pointedly, and the Togruta smuggler who's been such an impressively disruptive force for his supply lines, Kessin, also makes a face and looks away. It's not unusual for Lana or Theron to need to drag Corrain into a moment of calm, he's come to learn. Nor is it unusual for them to clearly display their affection for each other, with the odd side-effect of often quieting his brother's more passionate moments - as if he can only find peace within their presence.

But as Theron wanders over to help Lana corral their agitated Commander out of his nervous pacing, he can't help but wonder about the odd tic here - one that warrants simultaneous attention from both of his brother's partners. He bites his lip on the question, trying not to allow it to cross his tongue. The answer can come in due time, he's sure. When the memory of Valkorion's bitter ache on their pasts rings less clear.

And then Kessin clears their throat, absently flipping one of their lekku around their throat like a violet scarf.

"Oi, ex-tyrant, c'mere for a second," they call.

It stings - but he sighs heavily, turns away from where his brother is leaning into Lana's shoulder, a cold distance in those thunderstorm eyes, and follows them. He's led only a short distance away, just out of earshot of everyone clustered around the holotable - and then Kessin growls at him a little. Belatedly, he remembers that Togruta are carnivores.

"Okay, listen," they snap, but there's an unusual gravity to their voice and he can't help but straighten up somewhat at the tone. "You're about to ask about the reason why Cor's got both the Sith lady and spyboy on him right now, yeah? I can see you watching him when he paces like that."

Arcann doesn't have the heart to lie, so he nods once and then tucks his hands behind his back.

"Well...more precisely, I wanted to ask about the thing he's doing with his hands - where he rubs at the back of his neck," he confesses. "He...does it often, it seems, when he's anxious or stressed, and it's unusual. I wasn't about to ask NOW though, I'm not quite that foolish. Lana has already threatened my life at least four times."

Kessin appears only slightly appeased by that, and they lean back against the stone wall with an eye roll. They're taller than him, Arcann notices idly, though that's mostly due to their arcing montrals.

"Tactful choice," they comment lightly. Then they're quiet for a minute before their expression softens marginally. "Look. You're one of the few people in the galaxy I hate as much as Sith, but Cor's decided you're worth the effort somehow, and he's right about ninety percent of the time. So lemme give you some advice. If you ask about the neck tic - have a few bottles of alcohol with you, and put Lana or Theron on standby. I was there for part of uh...his particular incident. It's a hell of a story, and he's still shattered by it, in a lot of ways."

Arcann stares, a little flabbergasted.

"You- aren't trying to warn me away?" He asks, stunned. Kessin's expression hardens again.

"...no. Not when...well. This involves your father. His father. Ugh. The karking piece of shit Sith Emperor. You already know the little Commander hates your dad. This is related to why."

Arcann can feel his blood boil at the mention of Valkorion's other incarnation - and suddenly the way Lana and Theron are tag-teaming his younger- older?- brother into a semblance of calm makes far more sense.

"Then thank you for your guidance, Captain Meyka," he says, tone low. "I'm grateful."

They snort, but there's no bite in it.

"It's not for you, jackass."

He manages to catch Corrain alone later that evening, after carefully approaching Lana - suicidal, probably, but she'd just raised an eyebrow at him and nodded curtly, then shot off to find Theron - and the location is ideal. Arcann almost wonders if either the Sith lord or former Republic spy that his brother loves so much had suggested the young commander come out here.

The Odessen wilds are beautiful, after all. Calming but cold, steady but melancholic- a strange, delicate tightrope between pain and peace. And Corrain sits calmly in the grass, meditating. Arcann can feel him in the Force, like the warmth of a summer thunderstorm, clean ozone and soft rain and muggy heat, and dangerous potential. Storms can build, he knows - and Corrain feels like he's been waiting for the sky to break for years.

"You, uh...noticed my little habit, did you?" Corrain asks as he approaches. Arcann reaches for him without speaking, brushing the edge of his awareness against his brother's as carefully as he can, hesitantly projecting both worry and curiosity and the ache that wishes he knew this new sibling better- and Corrain turns to look at him and smiles wryly.

"I'm not going to break anytime soon, Arcann, you don't have to just tap me like that," he says- and then he sees the bag in Arcann's hand, a bottle of Alderaanian wine and a couple cups peeking out- and he laughs. There's a rueful twist to it.

"I was...warned this may help make the conversation smoother," Arcann explains with a sheepish frown, and pauses next to a patch of grass next to the Jedi. "Ah, may I-"

"Sit your ass down," Corrain laughs again, and there's no bitterness in the sound anymore. Arcann does as invited. "And alright, I might crack a bit. Who told you to bring wine?"

Arcann hesitates, then shrugs.

"Captain Meyka."

Corrain groans, a little exasperated, but fond.

"Classic Kess," he sighs. "Alright then. Ask."

Arcann pauses, regarding Corrain for a long moment. This close, his relation to Valkorion is distinct, but not obvious - there's a similarity in their faces that eludes definition- and then of course, there are those stormy grey-blue eyes. Valkorion had that eye color, once.

Corrain just watches him, white eyebrows hiding behind his bangs.

"My original question was going to be to ask why you rubbed at your neck when you were anxious...but I was informed it was related to our father, so-"

He doesn't miss the way Corrain's entire expression curls into a snarl at the mention of Valkorion, nor the way his thunderstorm aura crackles into static electricity and howling anger, a cyclone of hatred forming in the blink of an eye- and Arcann can almost taste the satisfaction of his own answering fury on his tongue. After all - it was this hate, it's intensity and passion which had convinced him to join his younger brother.

"...Darth Vitiate held me captive for almost two years," Corrain says finally, and reaches for the collar of his shirt, tugging it open and pushing the fabric down to bare the upper part of his back and neck. And Arcann freezes at the sight of raised, ropy scars striping over pale skin, at the jagged lines of stark white cut into the nape of the Jedi's neck. There's so many, he realizes. And some are layered over each other, as if to rip open old injuries for added pain.

When he lifts his head to meet his brother's gaze again, he can swear those grey eyes flash acid gold.

"He implanted a shock collar." The quiet voice is like ice. "Wired it directly into my spinal column while I was awake to feel the agony. Used it to punish me when I wouldn't kill for him, then forced me to kill anyway."

Ah. Arcann's expression sours, like a flame forced to smolder, and Corrain grins in answer. It's not a nice smile- there's a feral bloodlust in it, and the promise of vengeance. Arcann knows from his knowledge of the Jedi that it's not something they'd encourage. But it's what convinced him to follow - the genuine pain, the rage, the kinship it creates between them. The sure knowledge that this young storm - his brother, his younger sibling, found in the worst of ways - is his best chance at truly seeing Valkorion fall.

And yet- he can't shake the guilt, the sorrow for what he's done. For the suffering that must be having their father's spirit rattling around inside Corrain's subconscious. There's too much of Thexan's strength of heart in Corrain to see it lost to Tyth's fire and Izax's desolation.

So he reaches out, steadier this time, and lets his youngest sibling feel the weight of his promise.

"I will see his hold on you broken, little brother," Arcann swears, and it tastes a little like hope. "I will see you free again."

And Corrain softens back into kindness and summer rain and the smell of the earth after a nourishing rainstorm, and his smile turns true.

"And I, you, Arcann. And I, you."

#corrain gealai #corrain #arcann #arcann tirall #swtor #swtor jedi knight #jedi knight oc #trauma prompt #this went a little out of control!#anyway have sibling bonding time #kessin meyka #kessin #surprise smuggler oc cameo #yay! thank you for the prompt #elibean tag!

6 notes · View notes

candied-cae · 2 years

Text

And Who Are We At The End Of The World? - Absolutely Not Time To Cry

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13] [14] [15] [16] [17] [18] [19] [20]

Chapter 11/? - - - Read it on AO3

Word Count : 10,692

Summary: There's too much happening. And all the while, they have nothing they can really do. The Party is stuck until something changes. And feeling stuck like that can be suffocating.

More ST Fics

-----------------------------------------------------

Steve’s sleep was interrupted a little after 3 am. Surprisingly, there were no nightmares, no shaking, and no terror sweats. None of the things that usually follow their ‘special’ emergencies were what startled him awake. But Steve didn’t even have time to think about how nice it was to have slept so well, because the thing that did wake him up was the house phone downstairs. Ringing and clattering in the way that always pulled him from his dreams.

Steve’s always been a bit of a light sleeper, so it’s no shock that the phone would wake him up. Especially since he used to listen for it so carefully. Over the years, he’s practically trained his ears for it. But it was damn early to hear it that morning. He considered letting the person get sent to record a message. Well, he considered it for about a second, until he thought about all the other people downstairs who deserved to keep sleeping if they hadn’t already been woken up. And with that thought, he sprung up out of his bed and got all the way to the landing in what could’ve been record speed if he hadn’t pulled something in his side around his stitches that punched the air out of him for a moment.

He picked the phone off of the base to shut it up but hesitated in bringing it to his ear.

The moment he did, a harsh ”Stephen” barked through the line.

His dad. Of course. Already sounded put off even though Steve hadn’t spoken to him yet. Not a surprise. But there was a recognizable drawl to the word. The way he said it when he was just drunk enough to forget his manners.

This was going to be a fun conversation.

“Yes?” he asked, trying to keep the bother out of his voice.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

It was a stupid question, truly. Steve brought a hand to his temple and massaged it in an attempt to stave off his frustration as he answered,“ Sleeping? I was in bed when I heard the phone. It’s past 3 am over here, why are you calling?”

“Well, we were just getting back to the house after a very nice work dinner-”

A work dinner that went on until almost one in the morning over there in the Pacific timezone?

“-and your mother tells me that, in the middle of a disaster, mind you, you’re having a party at the house again.”

He tried to correct him,“ That’s not-”

But his father doesn’t listen, he never really does,“ Did you forget what we discussed the last time you threw a party when we left town? After you went and got into a fight with a boy whose damn brother was missing? After you defaced a local business? After that very public fucking embarrassment of your junior year? Did you forget?”

“No, but-”

“No what?”

Steve wanted to punch a wall. Even wanted to ram his head into one. Through grit teeth, he gave the man the obedient answer he wanted,“ No, I remember.”

“Then you should remember the conversation we had after graduation, too. About accountability, responsibility, and..." there was a pause that seemed like he was looking for another big word to use, but he couldn't find one and settled on," growing up. I am not spending my hard-earned money on that house just to let you laze around back there. You are supposed to be working and making plans. If you aren’t going to figure your bullshit out-" that word still made Steve's stomach twist every single time he heard it," -and make a man out of yourself, then at least don’t further add to my headache. Trashing the house with your unwelcome guests, getting fired from the one place in town that hired you-”

“None of that is happening!” Steve burst with the words. He immediately checked the living room, and thankfully no one seemed to stir at his outburst. He reined himself back in and corrected his father,“ I invited a few people to sleep here because they don’t have anywhere to go. There’s no party, no drugs, no alcohol, no loud music. It’s just four other kids who needed a place to stay and are crashing on the couch.”

“I’m not responsible for all the lost souls of Hawkins.” the voice came through in a singular kind of cold tone.

It didn’t really mean something as simple as ‘don’t adopt every stray off the street’. It meant ‘Get them out of my house, they are not my problem, and certainly not my bill to foot’. He said it final. Like the only respectful option Steve had, was to send them on their way at first light. Like Steve shouldn’t even dare argue, because then he was being the unreasonable one for costing his father more money on the house utility bills and pulling from the grocery money left behind.

There wasn’t any point in saying anything else to sway him, it wouldn't work.

“Understood, sir,” he answered, trying to press his voice into one of acceptance and indifference before he hung up the phone.

And just as Steve started trying to bring himself down, relax his muscles from the taut way they always got when he had to deal with his dad like that, Jonathan was rounding the corner from the kitchen. He hadn’t really been trying to eavesdrop. But he woke up a little while before the call came and decided to burn through a blunt before he tried to lie back down. He had thought he was being considerate by cracking the window above the sink and blowing the blissful smoke out of it instead of in the living room with the kids and making the house smell like weed. But now he felt kind of like he had hidden away and overheard a little bit of something that wasn’t really his business.

But weed makes him a little nosy. So he peeked his head over at Steve, brewing in some kind of tension, and asked simply,” What was that?”

Steve, on the other hand, had no idea anyone but him was awake. So the sudden question from behind nearly scared him out of his skin,” Jesus!” he yelped, spinning around almost too fast with a hand over his speeding heart. When he realized he was just looking at Jonathan, red-eyed and leaning against the wall from the kitchen, he steadied himself and brought his voice down,” God, what’re you doing?”

“Taking Argyle down to two remaining blunts.” he waved the last of it between his fingers, it was just about low enough to call a roach and throw out, but he just looked back up at Steve and asked,” You?”

“Well, the phone rang,” he answered matter of factly.

“Yeah, heard it but thought I’d let the fancy machine deal with it.” Jonathan said with a gesture to the ‘fancy machine’.

“Yeah,” Steve scratched at the back of his neck, honestly wishing he decided to do the same now that it seems the living room campers were pretty deep sleepers,” Just didn’t want it to wake you guys up.”

The other shrugged back to him before pressing again,“ What was it? Who calls someone at 3 am?”

“Inconsiderate people in Seattle,” he answered, more bite than he was intending. But he did want to bite. Or hit. Something. Just not Jonathan, though.

“Was it your old man?”

Steve's eyes widened slightly at Jonathan's correct guess,“ Huh?”

“I heard the ‘Understood, sir’ clear enough. Nobody really says it like that unless they’re talking to their’s.” Jonathan answered with a kind of knowing look.

Steve didn’t want him or the others to feel bad about his dad being an asshole. And he wasn’t going to make them leave. So when he saw Jonathan’s eyes, that despite his current condition, seemed like they wanted more details, he vowed none of them would know,“ Never mind, s’nothing. But, if anyone asks, you’re all the lost souls of Lenora, got it?”

“Uh, yeah?”, Jonathan agreed, sounding more confused than he had been a moment earlier," Sorry you ended up lying to him away. 'No drugs'. My bad."

“Don't worry about it," Steve told him as the short conversation stopped," Ugh, I need some water” he added as he rounded past Jonathan to the cabinet with glasses in it.

Jonathan still wasn’t exactly sure where they stood with each other. But he was more or less living with the guy right now, and there didn’t seem to be even a moment where Steve acted like he regretted the offer. Maybe he could stop being so wary around him.

“Get one for me, too?” he chanced.

“Why not.” Steve decided, grabbing a second glass on his way to fill them up. He knew the way weed stuck in a person’s throat after smoking, to help relieve that itch was the polite thing to do. He handed the other over and asked,” So is this why you’re different?”

“What?”

“The marijuana. I’m at least 90% sure that wasn’t something you messed with back here. And you seem different now. Or, well, different-er than the last time you became different,” He clarified with a sip, referencing how much Jonathan has changed since monsters and Nancy came into his life,“ So I was wondering if that’s what did it. If finding a friend in the bud made you so…”

“Different,” Jonathan finished for him.

“Yeah.”

“I don’t know. Maybe. It was something new for me. Just since we went to Lenora. And I haven’t really been running the same as I used to.” he pondered, pulling one last ashen breath from the thing barely pinched between his fingers, before casting it out the window respectfully.

“That why you were even up at this hour anyway?” Steve wondered, leaning against the marble island as he realized he was talking to Jonathan, one-on-one, for the very first time.

Jonathan shrugged off the suggestion,“ I’m pretty much half an insomniac these days.”

“Fair, the end of the world does that to people.” he figured.

“Nah,” the guest refuted, looking back out the window into the dim world, blanketed in only streetlight against the dark sky,” I’ve been like this for the better part of the year.”

“What’s going on?” Steve asked. He hoped it sounded sincere. He meant it to be.

And as nosy as Stoned Jonny is, he’s still not exactly open enough for that conversation,“ We don’t… have to talk,” he excused Steve from whatever unspoken rules meant he had to ask.

“But do you want to?” he offered anyway,” I know we don’t, you know, talk. But you do seem really different from before you left. If you wanted to… get it out, or something…”

And yeah, Steve was being really nice. Jonathan almost wanted to tell him what he was thinking. See if the retired king had any good advice to lend. But how could he? Really?

What was he supposed to do? Look at him and admit,“ Yeah, I think I need to break up with my girlfriend. You know the one. The strongest and most amazing girl this world has ever seen, the one we’ve both said ‘I love you’ to because she's that incredible, the one who’s already dealing with so much shit because she wants to save the world. And I’m supposed to add to that shit. Why? Oh, because I’ll hold her back. Because I’m not moving on the way she is, and she deserves to move on. Because I don’t know who I am anymore and she loves the person I’ve been letting her think is still in me. She loves him way too much, and he’s going to ruin her. Just like his dad tried to ruin his mom. And she’d let him. And he can’t stand doing that to her. I can’t stand doing that to her. But I don’t know how to let her go.”

He couldn’t say that. Even with one joint in his system and being deprived of enough sleep that he wouldn’t be all that surprised if he was hallucinating their whole interaction, he couldn’t say all of that. It was too much.

“I’m good.” He said instead.

“Are you?”, Steve offered one more time.

And Jonathan couldn’t explain why he said it if anyone asked him, but he looked back at Steve, sharing this dark hour of the night with him, and met him somewhere in the middle,“ Ask me again? Maybe another midnight dreary?”

“Uh, yeah, sure.” he agreed, and somehow Jonathan really believed he would. Some other time, they could try again. See if it felt more right for Steve Harrington and Jonathan Byers to talk a little further down the road.

Unfortunately for Steve, this slightly vulnerable conversation wasn’t enough to dull the memory of his dad. He had hoped the glass of water would do the job, but he was still worked up. All strung out on what happened over the last week, how they were stuck at this standstill, and now even his father was causing problems. It filled him with all this anxious energy and raging hurt, and he had no way to get it out.

So he reached for his keys and told Jonathan,” I think I’ll take a lap.”

“What?” he questioned back, standing up straighter from where he’d been leaning against the counter of the sink.

“I - I’m just going to head out for a bit.”

“At 3 am?”

“I won’t be long. Just need to - I don’t know - get out. Get out of all this for a minute.”

And with that, Steve Harrington was gone. He was conflicted about the plan. A big piece of him wanted to crawl back into bed and close his eyes until a reasonable hour and get up then. Maybe be extra host-ly and make breakfast for his guests, pancakes and bacon and shit like that. Kind of like a real family, his mind dared to wonder. Which only served to make him madder. Because they weren’t his family, and he needed to remind himself of that.

His family was the man on the phone who wanted him to kick out his friends in need and the woman who probably stood right next to him and didn’t feel the need to argue in favor of her son. And the worst part was that it was probably his own fault. At least a little. His dad probably wouldn’t have blown up so bad if he had asked first. Would’ve instead said, with some kind of mannerly smile, that ‘Of course, they can stay!’ Because it wouldn’t be becoming of the Harrington name to say no to providing charity for those standing on their doorstep, he’d have to extend the proposal. But Steve didn’t ask. Steve said yes behind his back and let him come to his own conclusions. Drunk conclusions that said it was a party. Even if he had a chance to mention to his mom before Argyle answered the phone, maybe he could’ve swund it his way. But the very guest outted that he’d already made the decision himself. It might've gone smoother the other way. If only he’d just picked up the phone and got in front of it...

But he didn’t. And the only people he can truthfully call his family, expected him to throw away the people that - he’d honestly prefer to delude himself into believing - could be family instead. And he really needed to nip that idea in the bud.

Some space would help. Probably. The most familial thing is being cramped in close quarters together, right? So getting in his car and putting some distance between them and him before they made him cry was the smartest thing to do. He wasn’t going to cry. He had to say it out loud to himself a few times as he took his car down random roads.

“Not gonna cry. I’m not gonna cry. I’m not gonna cry. I’m not going to cry. I am not going to cry.”

He was not going to cry. Because he was not sad. He was mad. So he’s not going to cry. He’s going to be mad. Be mad and break something.

And finally, he decided where he wanted to go at damn near 4 am on a Sunday.

He turned down the route that ran through the forest and would take him to the junkyard on the hill past the quarry. It was only the second time he’d ever been out there - and the last visit was only because he’d walked the train tracks with Dustin to kill Dart - so he looked around for a minute as the car rolled into the clearing of forgotten things. There were a couple of trashed cars, the school bus they’d fortified and subsequently forfeited that same night, along with a few empty oil drums, discarded cans and glasses, spraypaint bottles, all the kinds of things a boy might like to break.

It was just what he needed.

He parked his car, popped the trunk, pulled out the nail bat he hadn’t gotten a chance to use on their latest escapade into hell, and got started smashing. He was so pissed. Pissed about everything, and determined to stay that way, too. So, he repeated it to himself over and over again.

As he dented the doors on a rusted blue Oldsmobile,” I’m pissed.”

As he beat in the sides of a graffitied oil drum,“ I’m mad.”

As he kicked away crinkled cans into scrap metal,“ I’m angry.”

As he swung down at the glass bottles, sending their shards around him,” I am so fucking mad. About the Upside Down. Vecna. Henry. One. Dr. Brenner.”

As he struck the bus, littering it with holes,“ Monsters. Demogorgans. Demodogs. Demobats. Mind Flayers. Possessions.”

As he climbed on a broken-down Pontiac and beat in its windshield,“ Russian Invaders. Lies. Secrets. Experiments. Black Eyes. Bruises. Scars.”

He kept swinging. Even when the glass was all shattered and all he was doing was denting the frame metal, he kept swinging. And that wasn’t all he was doing. He was crying.

“Using El! Trying to kill her! Nearly killing Eddie! Killing Max! Blinding her! Breaking her!”

He couldn’t even see anymore. His vision was completely distorted with salt water. He tried to ignore it. To pretend like he wasn’t actually crying. Like he was successfully pushing the sorrow down and only feeling the rage. Even when it was impossible to ignore, he kept trying.

“FUCK!” He finally screamed, throwing down the bat to try and wipe the tears away. Having to admit to himself what was happening.

“I’M PISSED!” He shouted again, like maybe if he kept saying ‘I’m just mad, I’m not sad’ he could convince the invisible audience watching him. He could convince himself. And that it wouldn’t hurt so much. It wouldn’t feel so crushing. He wouldn’t be weak if he wasn’t sad.

He stepped forward to jump off the car, letting out a body-shaking bellow into the sky to try and prove his point when,“ AUGHH-” when his footing missed the hood, and he fell right onto the ground. Landing, luckily not on top of any metal or glass shards, but right on his side.

And, fuck, he didn’t even need to look to know he ripped his stitches. He rolled onto his back and threw his head back into the dirt in frustration. Because that was just what he needed. Then he beat his fist against the Pontiac once for good measure, before he got to his feet and shuffled back to his own car. He even bothered to pick up the bat and put it back in the trunk before he dropped himself into the passenger side seat, figuring his tantrum was done for then.

He always kept first aid stuff on him those days. A little in the center console, a little in the glove compartment, and a little more in the trunk. Firstly, he popped open the glove box, which is where he had the thick gauze he’d be able to wrap around his torso, and in the console, he had the bandaging material to pack over any bleeding. When he went to retrieve that though, is when he remembered what else he had put in there.

Max’s letter.

It was sitting there right on top. Staring at him, his own name inscribed in the girl’s handwriting on the brown envelope. Right where he’d left it a few days ago after she gave it to him. He hadn’t wanted to leave it in Nancy’s basement or risk crumpling it in his jacket pocket. He figured the console was the perfect spot to put it to keep it pristine until she got out of the curse just fine and he could hand it back to her. Give it back with a cocky smirk and some line about how it was a waste of her time because, of course, nothing was going to happen to her.

He hadn’t read it yet. He didn’t want to. Didn’t plan to ever need to. She handed it to him and emphasized it was for some kind of ‘If I die I want to make sure you know…’ thing. Which hurt at the time because Steve had no plans to let her die. He still had no plans to let her die.

But he never read it. And, suddenly, he considered never getting the chance to read it while she was still with them. If she ended up being right- if things didn’t go their way- if the next time he entered her room, he heard that long line on the heart monitor… If that happened and he hadn't talked to her about her letter? It hurt worse to think about that possibility.

So he picked it up. Turned over the brown pouch and exposed the lined notebook paper she’d folded up for him to read. Because if they were going to run out of time, he wanted to tell her he read it before she went.

Dear Steve,

Jesus, he was already crying again. He wiped his eyes once more and started again.

Dear Steve,

I know you’ll probably be pissed at me for writing this. For making a big deal out of what’s happening. Because you think you’ll save me, and everyone else, by the end. Which is stupid. You can’t beat up a curse with a spiky baseball bat. And maybe I’m stupid because I almost believe you can. But this isn’t about now. It’s supposed to be about everything else. I want you to know that you were the only person who ever stood up to Billy for me. You were the reason I believed I could do it for myself. I was just some girl that showed up with Lucas at a junkyard, some girl that didn’t believe any of you about the monsters you fought. But then I found myself face to face one up the emergency exit, and you pulled me out of the way to take it on yourself. Then we went to Will’s, and even though Billy got in, you ran right after him and tore him off of Lucas. That was the scariest night of my life, but the minute I saw you get back up, I stopped being so terrified. Because you were there. Even if you got knocked on your ass, you were there. And I knew you’d go down swinging instead of letting anything happen to us. To me. And I’ve never felt safe like that with anyone. And then you filled our summer with back halls to skip movie tickets and free ice cream. Which you totally should’ve been fired for. And you kept doing it anyway. Getting to see you in that ridiculous sailor uniform, swearing all of us to secrecy, and serving El and me so quickly that you forgot she was supposed to stay out of town… I wouldn’t trade those days for anything. I need you to know how much I loved that summer for every moment it was good. And I have always cherished that time, every day since, despite what happened on the fourth. And I still smile every time the radio plays ‘Take On Me’, by the way. I think you were the kind of brother I always wanted Billy to be. The one I always hoped he could become if he just stopped being so horrible. I figured out I shouldn’t expect much from him, but you showed me I could still expect something from someone else. Even after he was gone, and I didn’t make it easy, you kept showing up. Being there for me when I needed someone but didn’t want to admit it. And I love you for that. For being the brother I needed and always wanted to have. If you’re reading this, then it didn’t go well. I know that. But I’m sure I would’ve ended up worse if it weren’t for you. I’m sorry if this sappy letter makes it hurt more. Like you should’ve done more to protect me. That’s not true. It hasn’t happened yet, and I know it’s not true. Because I know you’ll do everything you can. But even if I’m done and gone, I wanted you to know you spared me a lot of pain over this last year and a half. I’ll always be grateful to have known you. Thank you. And if I’m dead, (it’s narcissistic to assume, but…) please don’t be too sad for too long. Don’t do what I did after Billy. Don’t close off from the group. Stick with them through it all and make sure they keep smiling. I know you can find a way to make sure they don’t forget how to have fun, even if you like being a buzzkill. So watch out for them for me, and watch out for yourself. And, if it’s not asking too much, talk to me. Keep me updated on how they’re all doing. I didn’t use to believe dead people could hear prayers or conversations spoken on their graves or whatever. But if there are monsters, then anything could be true, and there’s a chance I could hear you. So send me the good stories. Let me know you’re all okay.

Love, Your Little Maxie (And if you tell anyone I signed off with that, I’ll haunt you)

And that… well that pushed him over the edge. He was sobbing. Sobbing to the point that he couldn’t deny it was happening anymore. He let go of the letter, allowing it to fall into the driver’s seat because he didn’t want to rip it in his trembling grip. Everything in him ached reading those words. It hurt worse than the reopened wounds on his side. It hurt so deeply because it was so nice.

Max actually took a pencil to paper and wrote the words ‘I love you’ for him. She called him something like a brother, and that’s nearly everything he’s ever wanted his whole life. To be family to someone. To really feel like it. And he kept crying. He curled into the passenger seat of the car as the hot tears fell down his face, as he wailed and his head began to ache with the misery. It was the kind of cry that hurts. His eyes get irritated and lids become puffy and red as he hopelessly tries to rub them to feel better. Until all that can be done to ease that hurt is to close them.

So he does.

And he falls asleep. Right there in his car. Parked in the same junkyard where he first met Max.

Across town, Nancy was flying awake in her bed. Heartbeat in her ears, sweat collected on the back of her neck under all her hair. That was somewhat new. She’d done a surprisingly good job of coping with the last few crises in their lives. Sure, she used to stay up later than she liked, churning with guilt and grief over Barb. But that was the worst of it.

Now, she finds that she really only sleeps in bursts. Something between an hour or two where she’s just started dreaming and she’d see him again. She was certain it wasn’t the real Vecna. Will said he didn’t feel as… ‘there’ as he had in the past. And, it didn’t feel like he was saying anything new to her. But she was back in that hall. With its white tile, blood splatter, flickering lights, and boarded-up doors. And she fought, every time to pull them down and get away. If she managed to, the door would open back up into the hall. And she’d do it over and over again until Vecna caught up with her and she woke up.

Her breath steadied as she got done checking her room for any sign that something was off. It all looked right, so she wasn’t somewhere wrong. She was fine. Or at least, she was supposed to be. They survived. Even if it’s not over yet, they survived to that point.

She was fine. She was supposed to be fine.

With a peek at her clock, she knew it was way too early to do anything about how messed up she felt. Too early to watch tv in the living room to distract herself. Too early to try and call someone. Too early to plead with her dad for the keys to the car back. Too early to find any relief.

So she just fell back onto her bed, flipping over the pillow and rolling onto her side to try and get the heat off her spine. She looked out her window into the darkness outside and wasn’t sure what she was feeling. Memories of both Steve and Jonathan climbing through it her sophomore year come back. She contemplated, for a moment, climbing out it herself. Walking to Loch Nora at an ungodly hour of the morning and knocking on Steve’s front door to pull Jonathan out. Bringing him onto the porch with her, cornering him alone so he had to answer. And asking him why he didn’t want to come back for Spring Break in the first place. Asking him why he still feels so far away when they were back in the same town for the first time in six months. Asking him if he even loved her anymore.

She didn’t do that though. She stayed in her soft, far too-warm bed. Alone.

Instead, she just thought back on the beginning of her sophomore year in general. It was kind of funny to look at in hindsight. Once upon a time, Nancy Wheeler was some sweet and passive little thing. She wasn’t that person anymore. She hasn’t been for a long time. But she can’t help but find herself missing parts of it. She liked the fire that grew since, don’t get her wrong. But everything used to be so much simpler. Easier.

She missed that.

That Nancy wouldn’t wake up from nightmares about telekinetic monsters who murder kids.

That Nancy wouldn’t get grounded after she practically went missing all Spring Break.

That Nancy wouldn’t be worried because she doesn’t know what’s going on with Jonathan…

And with that thought, she considered returning to the nightmare she knew was waiting for her. Because at least she understood what was happening in them. But just before her senses faded, she remembered the way Robin held her hand and told her ‘Everything’s going to be fine. I am sure of it’. The way she later kicked her foot and said that even her I-don’t-know’s seem to go ‘pretty damn well’.

And who can really say what that memory does to her? What it means?

But Nancy sat up, looked away from the window, and instead laid her eyes on her desk. At the grey purse where she knew she’d slipped her notebook. The one she’d taken notes in when she spoke to Wayne Munson back when it all started. And she gets up. Collects her things, flicks on her lamp, and starts working on that article again. To tell their side of the story. The version no one else has considered. The one where Eddie is innocent.

The next thing Steve knows, he’s waking up in his passenger seat with the sun peaking over the horizon at him. He squinted at the painfully bright light against his tear-sore eyes. He was all crumpled up uncomfortably in his car seat, a knot of muscle forming in his neck at the odd angle. He hadn’t even bothered to close the door or actually deal with the stitches he’d originally meant to mend. A groan escaped him as he dropped his face into his hands, using his fingers to try and work out some of the sleep and ache from those burning eyes.

How long did he nod off for?

With a twist of the keys in the ignition, the Beemer’s dashboard came to life, and the digital clock on it told him it was already 6:52 am. The voice of a radio host came through low on the speakers as Steve started putting his thoughts together. He checked his stomach, and there was some dried blood sticking his shirt to him. Barely noticeable, but it still added to his headache. The wounds didn’t hurt too bad, seemed like they’d dried shut, at least. So he was able to pack away Max’s letter back into the console with the first aid supplies and get himself into the driver’s seat without much trouble. He could wrap himself up at home or stop by the hospital later.

He rubbed at his worn eyes again before starting the engine properly and backing out of the junkyard. He wanted to get back to the house and hopefully sneak inside without waking anyone. Wasn’t exactly keen on dealing with questions about how long he’d been out, but a spare glance at his gas meter told him that he should probably top off before he did so.

By the time he was pulling back onto his street, it wasn’t just Argyle’s pizza van sitting in the driveway. The chief’s cruiser was parked, and Powell was already walking towards Steve’s front door.

“Wait!” He called to him as he turned into the drive and hastily got himself parked.

Chief Powell stopped in his tracks and turned around to see the boy all but scramble out of his car and run up to him,“ Son? What’re you doing just getting home?”

“I just, uh, got restless. Went for a drive.” he was quick to try and excuse himself,” I just- didn’t want you to knock. What’d you need?”

“Well, we got a call down at the station. Your father wanted us to check and make sure no one had broken into his house. Remove any extra persons from the property. Which we told him was ridiculous. Because if anything had happened, we would’ve heard it from you, the person actually in there. But he was insistent that, due to your injury, you might not be capable.” he crossed his arms and raised a brow at him,” Want to tell me what that’s about?”

“I’m fine. And no one broke into the house. He just wanted…” Steve trailed off, now wondering how much legal right his father actually had to kick out his friends from over two thousand miles away.

“What?”

“I have a few people over,” he answered, figuring that was his best chance,” The Byers, Joyce’s kids. They arrived back in town yesterday, and their mom is away at some work conference or something. They needed a place to stay, so I brought ‘em back here.”

“And those are the people your father wanted me to remove? A couple of children?” Powell asked him, voice clear with disbelief that Mr. Harrington would be so unreasonable. If only he knew.

Steve searched for a way to explain away his father’s demand so that Powell might not report back his intent to keep his guests,“ He just, wasn’t too fond of me doing so without asking. Worried about the water bill or something. I’m sorry he tried to make you deal with it…” Steve was being respectful, but he wanted to set his resolve firmly,” But I’m not letting anyone kick them out. Which is why I didn’t want you to knock. They’re sleeping and really deserve to keep at it. Sir.”

“So you’re planning to secretly squirrel them away here, under Mr. Harrington’s nose?” the man questioned him.

Steve’s notion was to give a sympathetic shrug and point a pair of desperate eyes at him,“ Was hoping to?”

“Say you get away with it. Next bill goes out on the first, just a few more days, so there’s hardly time to notice a big difference in it by then. But what happens in a month when the next one is much higher?” the chief questioned, crossing his arms.

“Um… I could pay the difference? Cover part of it and the city sends a normal-looking bill over to him?” he suggested.

“Kid…” Powell shook his head at him.

“That’s not allowed, is it?”

“No. City Utilities can’t just send falsified bills to him because you want to…” he had to admit,” do the right thing.“ he let out a huff,” Steve-”

“I’ll figure something out by then,” he promised, trying to just come up with enough of an answer to get Powell to walk away and let it be for now.

“Steve-” he started again until he was interrupted by Callahan’s snarky voice over his shoulder radio

”Chief, what’s the situation over at Harrington Manor?”

“Please,” Steve asked again.

Powell had his hand on it, hesitating to decide what he was going to do with the information he’d been given.

“No situation” he chose,” Boy answered the door just fine. Nothing going on we need to alert his father about.”

“Thank you,” Steve whispered while Callahan made some remark about bored rich guys giving them too much work.

“Figure it out, kid. Don’t make me drive back out here because the man with his name on the deed comes calling again.”

“Got it, sir.”

“Get inside.” he nodded towards to door to send the boy on his way, before he remembered,“ Oh, and we’re done going through the RV, so let everyone know they can stop by the station today and pick up any of their things from it. We’re giving it back to the Jamesons later this evening, around six, so anything that’s left then will be theirs.”

“Uh, yeah, will do.” Steve agreed.

And with one final nod, Chief Calvin Powell was climbing back into the police car and leaving Steve to the mess he’d made for himself. He turned around and went back into his house when he found himself cornered by none other than El standing just a few feet from the door. He froze, wide-eyed, like a deer in headlights.

“Hi?” he greeted her.

“Something bad?” she asked him, because, of course, she would.

Maybe she spotted the blood on his shirt, or overheard him and the chief through the door, or maybe she spied on him and saw him crying in his car a few hours ago. He really hoped it wasn’t that last option though. But whatever it was, El Hopper knew there was something off. Not that Steve was going to admit it, though.

“It’s fine. Why’re you up already?”

She didn’t really answer him, gave something of a half-shrug and seemed to wait like he was supposed to continue.

“You think you’ll be falling back asleep, or are you up for good this morning?”

“Up for good.”

“Want breakfast?” he offered.

“Eggos?”

“Yeah,” he shrugged and started walking into the kitchen,” I guess I’ve got some of those.”

Over the next hour, his house guests slowly woke up and trickled into the kitchen, each following the irresistible smell of store-bought frozen waffles as they popped from the toaster. He was less accommodating than he had been for their ice cream party the night before, only passing over a plate piled with them and letting each person douse it with maple syrup themselves. Thankfully, they all seemed to be getting used to each other a little bit more. Steve ended up giving a slightly more official tour than Robin had. She’d really only pointed out the bathrooms and living room. So Steve took them around. Showed them where his dad’s office was, told them to just kinda leave it alone as he does; showed them the basement, which was pretty much all storage and not a hangout like the Wheelers; showed off the dining room they technically have but never use; the attic, also storage. All that sort of stuff.

He also bothered to write down everyone in the Party’s house numbers in the contact book by the phone while he called around. Robin said there was no way she was getting out of church that morning after the disappearing act, Steve promised to grab the red beret she knew fell off when she helped pick up Max and anything else he spotted of hers. Nancy was able to convince her dad to let her use the car to stop by since it was part of ‘cleaning up their mess’. She agreed to grab Dustin and Lucas when Steve said he pulled his stitches sleeping and wanted to have someone at the hospital check on them before he was going to stop by. They all made plans to meet back up at his place later that evening though, to try and start re-strategizing.

And, originally, Steve was going to go with his California visitors to the store for grocery shopping, but when they heard him mention his stitches they told him to go ahead to the hospital while they dealt with it. He gave them some of the cash his parents had stashed for necessities and they headed off to the supermarket to get all the fixings for a taco night, as well as other various things to feed them throughout the… however long they were there.

When he stopped by the Urgent Care Clinic… there was something out of the ordinary, to say the least. There was some camera crew, or maybe it was a few, and a couple of people crowding around the front doors along a line of police officers trying to keep the way into the building clear. Steve pulled his jacket tighter around him as he turned away and tried to get in past them without getting pulled into it. What he heard was that they were calling the city a portal to hell again, and they wanted comments on the serial murderer, Eddie Munson… Great. The greatest. Absolutely what they all needed right now.

But besides that, he got inside and the nurse wasn’t very happy to see he’d already messed up their handiwork from just a few days prior. But she numbed him and retied the broken skin together anyway, all while gently chastising him for being too rough with himself. When she said he was good to go, he knew the other reason he came by was going to keep him there.

He needed to see them. So he went to the second floor, signed the visitors log like he was supposed to, told them it was for both Mayfield and Munson, and then walked into the girl’s room where she was alone for the first time he’d seen her. It broke his heart to see her on her own in the bed, but he was also incredibly relieved because he was not sure he could be as honest as he needed to be if there was anyone else there.

So he sat in the chair by her bed. He pulled the letter from where he’d put it in his pocket. And he leaned forward to say what he needed to make sure she knew.

“Hey, Max. I don’t know where you’re at. I don’t know if you can hear this. El says it's like your head is empty, but I don’t really get that. Doesn’t make sense. You’re way too snarky to not always have the engines firing, you know? But I wanted to stop by anyway. Talk to you because…” he stopped for a second and cleared his throat.

“I read your letter, Max,” He declared, like he was admitting to a crime,” I know you made a big deal about waiting to read it when Dustin and I tried to open them in the Wheeler’s basement. Because they were meant for just in case. Just in case you died, and I’m firmly believing that you aren’t dead-dead yet. And I'm not going to let you be. So, I’m sorry if I read it early. But I couldn’t stop thinking that, if I’m wrong - becuase I’m wrong a lot - and this really doesn’t go our way, if this does end with us losing you, I-… I don’t want to miss my chance to talk to you first.” his voice cracked and he looked up at the ceiling to keep the tears from building,” So I read it. And, fuck, kid. You really pack a punch when you want to, you know? I mean, I’ve been beat up plenty of times and I never cried about it. But man, you got me good, with just a piece of paper.”

He looked back at the letter between his fingers,“ Um, still can’t believe you actually said you thought of me like a brother to you. I thought you woulda been too tough to admit something like that. But you did. So I’ll admit I looked at you like a kid sister. The one I would’ve loved to have gotten to grow up knowing. God,” he sniffed and gently reached out to place his hand on her wrist,” A badass littler Max earning scraps on her knees because she’s determined to figure out skateboarding? That would’ve been someone cool to know… I would’ve wanted to go with you to the parks while you practice. But I wouldn’t have tried it myself. Would’ve run the other way if you told me to give it a shot. But you would’ve worn me down and I would’ve stood on it and instantly fallen off. Would’ve landed on my ass so hard I limped all the way back to the car and blamed you for it for the rest of the week.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle a bit imagining it. A life where he wasn’t alone all the time. A life where he got to know Max earlier.

“Yeah, it’d been something like that, I guess. Just a thought. Anyway, I just wanted you to know…”

He hesitated before moving his fingers to hold hers,” I love you, too, Maxie. And I’m not ready for you to die. So you don’t get to. You have to hang on and get back up one of these days. Or you’ll break my heart, you hear? You’ll break my heart, and you’re not allowed to do that. We’re going to get you back. Whatever it takes. I really don't care what it calls for, it’s happening so we get you back. So you be stubborn like I know you are. And we’ll figure it out and handle the rest. We are getting you back.”

He finished off what he had to say and felt better. More revolved and ready to face Vecna again. He promised that little girl that she was going to live and, by god, he was going to be right. As he leaned back, wondering how long he should spend before crossing the hall and sharing his time with the other patient, the door opened. Max’s mother was walking in.

Obviously, she wants to sit with her daughter too. Steve just sort of nodded to her, gave a quick goodbye to Max and began to excuse himself when Susan pointed out the envelope in his hand.

“She wrote you a letter, too?”

He struggled with how he was supposed to answer that,“ Uh- uh- yeah. She did. I’m sorry, I just wanted to let her know I read it-”

“She left letters at home. I- it was like she knew something was going to happen to her. Do you- do you know why she- why she wanted to make sure she could say goodbye?” Susan was already tearing up. It was the first time she was able to ask anyone.

“I don’t know what-”

“You were with her, she wrote you one too,” she broke eye contact with the boy to look at her daughter as she pleaded,” Was there something else happening? Something I- Something I missed? Something I didn’t notice was going on with her?”

“I can’t…” he can’t tell her about the Upside Down, about the curse,” I don’t know how to tell you what she was going through. But I think she’s been struggling-”

“Struggling?” she echoed with a breaking voice.

“Since Billy.”

“You don’t think she would’ve-” she couldn’t finish the thought.

Because she was asking if Max would’ve killed herself. And that’s too painful a thought for a parent to voice.

“I don’t. Not really.”

It was the truth. From what Lucas had said, she blamed herself and thought about being the one gone. She closed herself off from everyone, but she wouldn’t have hurt herself. No, Steve didn’t believe it. Couldn't believe it.

“But I do think she needs a little more.” he added,” From all of us. So she doesn’t forget that, just because he’s gone, she’s not alone. We’re all going to do better for her, ma’am.”

“Yeah. Yeah, we are. Thank you…”

He gave a solemn nod as he went to pass her and go out the door.

But just before he reached it, Susan turned around and said,“ Before you go… did she really say that?”

“What?”

Susan stepped forward,“ I overheard… did she really say that she thought of you like a brother to her?”

“Um… yeah. Uh, it was something she put in my letter.” he lifted the envelope toward her,” Um, you could read it if you want."

Her eyes fell to it as he thought to add," There’s this inside joke we have about monsters and stuff, um, but besides that, it was really nice.”

“Inside joke?” she questioned him.

“Yeah. Uh, it’s a thing the kids do. Play pretend that we fought monsters and stuff. Nothing serious though.”

“Is it?”

“What?”

“A joke?” she sounded unconvinced.

“Yeah. Obviously, it’s a big stupid joke. Inside joke. For us, the few of us… a funny joke. Dustin started it-”

“Because… in my letter, she said she wanted to explain something to me. And it didn’t make any sense, but it didn’t seem like a joke to her.”

“I…”

Steve didn’t know what to say. What was he supposed to say? Break the NDA, get them all in trouble, and bring grieving Susan Mayfield into their hellish reality? Or hide it from her even though she deserves to know what really happened to her kid?

“Was it a joke? Or was something-”

“I can’t. Say anything. Here.” he emphasized in a low tone

“What does that mean?”

“Can I call you? Later?” he had to buy time, discuss it with the group, and figure out what to do,” To try and… explain?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. I’ll call and…” he still wasn’t sure what to say would happen,” I’ll just call.”

“Okay.”

He nodded and handed her the envelope,“ Um, if you wanted to read it… Goodbye.”

And he turned on his heels and nearly ran to the bathroom down the hall. Found it thankfully empty and braced himself against the sink while he let out shaking breaths. He squeezed his eyes shut, firmly refusing to keep crying that day. Once he got himself under control, he splashed water on his face and went to Eddie’s room.

It was a similar sight. The boy, all alone in a bed, mirroring the girl in the other room. Once more, Steve lowered himself into a chair by their bedside and scooted it forward so he could talk to the sleeping body before him.

“Hello... It’s Steve, stopping by during your post-apocalyptic, recovery nap. I see you’re still racking up that beauty sleep.”

He knew less of what he wanted to say to Eddie Munson. Eddie Munson didn’t leave him a heartbreaking letter to respond to, but the nurse said talking to him would be good. So, he started with the only thing that came to mind.

“You know, Munson... I used to run away too. I know you’re asleep, but I can hear you laughing. ‘Oh, King Steve, what do you mean you used to run? The only thing you “ran” was the school back in your heyday before Nancy softened you up.’ You’d be about half right with that one, but I was something of a coward, too.” he admitted, twiddling his thumbs together as he got to remembering who he used to be.

“I was a bully, as I’m sure you noticed. I hope our paths never crossed like that, but as embarrassing as it is to admit, I’m not even sure I’d remember if we did. I swear it’s not a lie to avoid taking responsibility or anything… If I did, I want to say I’m sorry. But I’m really not sure. I never really cared that much about ‘stomping on the ants’, as Tommy called it. I was more concerned with chasing tail, fulfilling my conquests, dominating sports, defending my position on the social ladder, all that useless shit.” he further explained,” I never tracked down the weirdos for the sake of hurting them - ‘for fun’ - but when my friends found a target, I jumped in the dog pile. Was on their side if they expected me to be.”

“It wasn’t right,” he insisted,” I know that. And it took me caring about Nancy enough to admit I was wrong. And then it took caring about Nancy enough to stop running away and instead go into the house with a monster. And then it took caring about those kids enough to stop running from the idea that I could ever be more than what I’ve always been. They made me confront myself and decide to be better.”

“Sometimes that’s what it takes, you know. Someone calling you on the shit you’ve done wrong… and them being there, needing you, so you have something to care about more than yourself. It kinda shocks you into doing the courageous things for the first time in your life. Just- I wanted to let you know that I know what it’s like. Being a coward and then getting the shit knocked out of you when you try to be brave. I’m still pissed you chose to play hero, we nearly lost you for a minute there… but I get it, man. Dustin was there, and that little twerp'll just crack a guy’s heart open like no one's business. So I get it.”

“Anyway, besides all of that nonsense, you did good. And we aren’t giving up on making sure you’ll be able to walk around freely again. We’re all on it. Nancy and Robin did a good job of making a game plan. We’ll be able to turn this on Jason Carver. So long as when you wake up, you follow the story. You’ve got nothing to worry about. So if you’re scared about coming back up because everything’ll be hopeless, and there’s no point in the fight, don’t be. Just wake up and we’ll all be right there with you while we fix it. You won’t go down for this.”

Steve was just starting to explain that everyone was back in town, that Eddie had some people he needed to meet, and that he missed out on an Ice Cream Party when a nurse came in.

“There’s a call for you,” she told him, which was pretty much at the bottom of the list of things he was expecting to hear while he was visiting.

“For me?” he questioned while pointing at himself.

“The same Steve Harrington who checked into the visitor's log this morning.”

“Alright?”

He followed her over to the nurse’s station and accepted the phone held out for him,“ Hello?”

“Steve,” a woman’s voice answered,” What’s this I’m hearing from Karen about all my children being at your house?”

“Ms. Byers,” he recognized.

“Joyce,” she corrected him.

“Yes, Joyce.” he amended, now remembering that’s not the first time she’d told him to call her that,” Um, yeah, Jonathan and his friend from California-”

“Argyle.”

“Yes, they showed up in Hawkins yesterday with the other two and Mike. Said they drove over because of a…” he looked at the nurse typing away at a computer just beside him before turning further away and simply putting it,“ Another situation.”

“And that’s why Karen made a point about my phone being disconnected,” she concluded.

“Yes. Lots of calls were made to your home, Ms. B- Joyce.” he caught himself,” And since your house in Hawkins was sold, and there was a bit of property damage around the city, and the Wheelers already have such a full house…” he excused,” I offered for them to stay over with me until we heard back from you about the business trip to Alaska. Sorry if that was-”

“No, no. Thank you for taking them in and keeping an eye on them. I can’t thank you enough, Steve.” There was a pause as she seems to get her bearings on what was going on,” Alright, I’m stopped at the house in Lenora - which is very much not in the condition I had left it in, by the way - but we’ll be on the next flight out there.”

“We?”

And there was another pause before she answered,“ Murray is over here. You met Murray.”

“Briefly.”

“I have him on the phone with the airport. Hey Ho- heeyyy, uh, how soon can we get to Hawkins?” He heard over the phone. Which was only a little weird.

There was some background noise, another voice, but not loud or clear enough to make out. But he thought he remembered Murray having a somewhat higher-pitched voice. The one he heard sounded lower, gruffer. Which only raised his suspicions that Joyce was being weird.

“Looks like there’s one later today we can squeeze into. Probably won’t be back until about dinnertime. And we’ll need someone to pick us up from the airport.”

“That’s fine, we’ll figure something out. Do you want the number to the house so you can check in and tell the kids yourself? They should be back from the grocery store by now.”

“Thank you, Steve. Yes, I’ll take the number, let me grab a pen.”

It didn’t take long for him to relay the number and make sure she had it right. Apparently, Nancy was already gone from the Wheeler’s, and Karen didn’t have it when she’d called. But when Nancy asked about the car keys, her father made a big deal about Steve driving them instead of giving them back. This resulted in Nancy saying he was going to be at the hospital, hence why Karen had sent Joyce that way to track him down, instead of digging through the phone book Nancy lost last summer that they hadn’t thought to replace.

“Alright. Thank you, Steve,” she said again,” I’ll give them a call.”

He began to brush past the thanks,“ Of course, Ms. Byers. You should know where your kids are, and I’m sure they really want to hear from you-”

But Joyce stopped him,“ No. Seriously, Steve, thank you. For watching out for them and keeping them together when they got back. And for being a part of this with us and being so much help every time.”

Now, Steve had told himself so many times that day that he wasn’t going to cry and absolutely wasn’t going to keep crying, but something about the way Joyce said it had him tearing up again,“ Yeah. Anytime, Ms.-”

“Joyce, Steve.”

“Anytime, Joyce”

There was silence on the line for a second, and Steve was about to give his goodbyes when Joyce said,“ You’re a good kid. You know that?”

Steve had to take a breath and stare back at that ceiling again to keep from letting the tears fall right there by the nurse's station. “Go talk to your babies, Joyce,” he dismissed her so he could run off and calm himself down again.

“Alright, you take care of yourself until I can catch up with you tonight,” she told him.

“You, too.” he agreed before handing the phone back to the nurse.

She made a lighthearted comment about not being his secretary, but that she’d let it slide since it was clearly about someone tracking down their children, and that’s serious enough right now. Steve returned to Eddie’s room and reclaimed his chair by the window as he pulled out the walkie he’d brought with him and bothered to give some of the group an update.

When that was taken care of, he leaned further in the chair to try and get comfy as he looked back at Eddie to ask, “Where was I, Munson?”

Obviously, the other didn't answer, so he thought for a moment,” Something about, 'Just wake up already' and 'The Party’s nearly all assembled again', right? Well, good news. Joyce Byers and Murray… I-know-it-started-with-a-B last name are coming back tonight. So we'll ALL be back together again and can make sure this whole thing stops this time. If you woke up right now, it’d be pretty convenient, just saying.”

He paused for a second, kinda hoping the guy would throw him a bone just this once and make it easy. He didn’t

“Fine, keep napping. Well, I didn’t bring anything to kill the time, so that’s on me. But they got you set up with a killer tv set, so we can crank that on for now. I can hang out until four, but then they’re going to kick me out. So, if you can’t do it now, but want to do your dramatic rise from the dead today, do it before then. Otherwise, your show will only reach the hospital staff, and, honestly, I think I’d make a much better audience.”

And with that final line, Steve was turning on the tv and changing the channel until he found something other than a news station. Turned out there was a rerun of Grease he was happy to sit through, even if he missed a bit of the introduction, they were catching it just in time for ‘Summer Nights’. He’d seen it enough times to not be bothered.

As far as he was concerned, he just gave a few meaningful speeches to people who couldn’t hear him. And while he certainly preferred to be listened to than ignored, he was grateful for that. He just said quite a bit of somewhat embarrassing stuff, so if they could never be used against him, he wouldn’t be too mad. He usually found it easier to talk about sensitive stuff if no one could hear him.

But in truth, Eddie heard every word. In his mind, he was still in the void El had left him in. When everyone was packed in the hospital room, talking fast and over one another, it was hard to follow. The words kind of slipped together and came through sloppy. But since Steve was visiting alone, talking slowly and carefully, it reached him much more clearly.

And he was far less alone as he fought to get his body up.

#Finally Steve gets to have a complete nervous breakdown #Been waiting to give him one and I plan to give him some more #This chapter fucked me up y'all. I was crying every time I wrote on it - worked on it- edited it - read it - every frickin time #But it was worth it (and we're going to get into more of Max's letter btw)#Anyway - I hope I'm successfully campaigning for my Steve and Max Sibling-ism while every mom in Hawkins fights to adopt him #Everyone gets custody until Steve has the biggest found family ever seen. I said what I said.#We're so fucking close to dropping the Steddie time bomb #(I mean. They're already starting a tradition of watching movies together and Eddie ain't even conscious sooooo...)#And then we're going to fly into Jancy breaking up and Ronance Bonding and Mileven tension and Byler and Elumax connections!#So much going to happen and I can't wait to start juggling all these relationships around fun activities once the big bad is gone #I mean what I said about this being a slowburn. There will be proper agonizing yearning. I promise.#Steve Harrington #Eddie Munson #Steddie #Steveddie #Steve x Eddie #Nancy Wheeler #Robin Buckney #Ronance #Robin x Nancy #The Fruity Four #Stranger Things #Stranger Things 4 #Stranger Things 4 spoilers #Stranger Things 4 volume 2 spoilers #stranger things fanfiction #ST4 fanfic #Steddie Fanfic #Ronance Fanfic

20 notes · View notes

too-deviant · 2 months

Text

The incessant ringing of loneliness (or three weeks part two).

Pairing: Luke Castellan x Apollo!Reader

Summary: Luke is back, officially. But you can’t find it in yourself to be happy about it.

Content: angst, loser!luke makes an appearance, a lil fluff, this one is probably happier than part one

Word Count: 4k

Notes: i can’t thank you guys enough for the love on three weeks :( it really means the world, and i hope you enjoy this one too! i don’t think there’s gonna be a part 3 just because i want the rest of luke and r’s story to be up to your own interpretation - especially since his path to healing is such an important factor and it could go in any way. hope that’s ok with you guys :)

꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷

You weren’t very popular at camp.

Despite the fact that you’d been there for longer than most of its occupants, and that you’d bandaged up some of their gnarlier injuries, you just didn’t have what it took to have people know your name upon first glance.

Clarisse had her unbridled aggression — she scared people into knowing who she was. Charles Beckendorf was the guy you went to when you broke a sword and didn’t want Chiron finding out about it, plus he was six foot six and kinda hard to miss. The Stoll Twins were behind pretty much every crazy scheme that ended up in Hermes losing desert privileges. Luke was…well, he was Luke. Need I say more?

Point is, while everyone knew everyone, not everyone really knew you. They knew your face, your parentage, and your overall skill set. But they didn’t know your name, or what made you tick.

Which was fine, really. You liked the alone time you got in the infirmary when your sister would run out to gossip with her friends in Aphrodite whenever she saw them walk by. You didn’t mind that, when your cabin got their hour of free time each day, your siblings would rush off to their friends and you would simply settle down with a good book.

It’s not as if you were entirely lonely — you had your fellow Apollo kids. You, Alina and Lee bonded especially, being the older kids of the group. So you had them — the only difference was that they had other people, too.

Which, again, was fine.

Except when you started to take care of Luke, you finally felt like you had a person. You looked forward to seeing him after meals each day, and you found excuses to linger in his room whenever possible. Call it odd, but you grew to enjoy the fact that nobody else knew he was back. Because that way, you had him, he had you, and that was that.

But then Luke got better.

You didn’t even have time to worry about it — one minute you were scarfing down your breakfast, eager to bring that second plate up to the Big House, and ignoring the strange looks your siblings sent you. Then in a split moment, everyone was cheering, people were standing and suddenly you didn’t feel so crowded anymore.

You heard murmurs of excitement, but people were practically standing on the table around you — unhygienic, much? People are eating here — and you couldn’t see what they were looking at. You tugged on your brother’s leg and he glanced down at your raised brow, then he said, “Luke’s back!”

It was like you were sucked back in time. No — it was like you were sitting in a waiting room, shivering from the cold breeze that whisked in through the automatic doors. And then the doors closed, and you could release the tension in your body because the warmth was already reaching your fingers — only for someone to walk past and make the doors open again, sending the sharp sting of the cold right back to where it was before.

Yes. That’s what it was — the warmth Luke’s eyes on you had provided was suddenly ripped completely from you the second your brother's words reached your ears. Replaced with the blistering cold of nobody ever knowing your name.

So it was back to normal for you. The normal you had grown accustomed to — the normal you liked. The normal you thought you liked, anyway.

You didn’t even catch a glimpse of Luke’s face as you stood and left the Pavilion, focusing on the floor beneath your feet rather than the crowd forming around him. Oh, but you couldn’t forget that he was back, it was all anybody could talk about. Once they’d done the math and realised he was the patient you’d been taking care of for three weeks, you locked yourself in your cabin to avoid all the questions, and didn’t see him until the very next day.

The chatter of Luke’s return had died down when you woke up the next morning — a little later than you usually did, Lee having to shake you so you wouldn’t miss breakfast. You rubbed the sleep out of your eyes and pulled a clean camp shirt over your head, stumbling a little due to the fact that you hadn’t fully woken up yet.

When you were ready, Lee was waiting by the door. A few of your siblings were still getting themselves into a line after his loud Fall in! had woken them up, so you had time to stretch your arms and let out a sigh once you had taken your place beside him. You and Alina always walked with him to mealtimes, even though neither of you were counsellors, and you greeted her with a smile.

The air was stuffy again — so much so that even Lee let out a wince when the shining glow of the front door hit his eyes. Then he stepped out of the cabin — his usual routine of checking the garden and cabin for pranks before letting them out coming into play. But he stopped.

“What?”

He swung his head back at you, brows raised and smile growing, “Luke’s back.”

Out of instinct, you rolled your eyes, “Pretty sure we all know that, already.”

“Yeah, but —“ He turned fully then, hands on the doorframe and grin shining, “He’s back, which means the Hermes kids are finally under control again, which means we don’t have to worry about being pranked first thing in the morning!”

“Holy crap.” Alina was grinning now, both of your siblings looking at you and each-other with this excited expression that made you sort of angry – why are they perceiving Luke? They’re not allowed.

You huffed a sigh as Lee started to lead the line outside, “He got back yesterday, there’s no way he’s already –”

But he was. As you stepped into the sun, the skin on your thighs already forming an uncomfortable layer of sweat, you looked to where the Hermes cabin was filing out of their door, led by the one and only Luke Castellan. You paused.

He’d been back a day. Sure, his scar had healed nicely, but it was only three days ago that he was struggling to hold his own in a sword fight – if he was back to his counsellor duties, was he going back to teaching sword fighting? You were unsure he should even be in charge of all those Hermes and unclaimed kids so soon, but going back to teaching only days after coming back to camp? There was no way he was ready for that.

Should you say something? Or would he dismiss you, now that he was done with you?

You watched as he walked with Chris, chatting idly as if nothing was wrong. But you saw Chris glance occasionally at the jagged line through his brother’s eye, and you saw Luke attempt to ignore it.

Should you say something?

You tripped. You were so busy staring creepily at Luke that you tripped over your own feet and tumbled into Lee’s back. He stumbled slightly but righted himself with a huff and a chuckle, turning and asking if you were alright.

But you had looked straight back in Luke’s direction – he was still talking to Chris. He wasn’t looking at you.

He wasn’t your person anymore.

Luke was unsure.

Which didn’t happen often — as one of the oldest campers, and the one everyone else looked to in times of peril, it was sort of essential for him to be sure. He needed to know what to do, to have a solution for every situation, and to be completely calm about it. Otherwise, camp would go to shit.

That much was obvious — he didn’t know why you hadn’t told him this in the three weeks you spent together, but camp had turned itself upside down in his absence. Apparently nobody was prepared for him to be gone for so long, and they kind of all lost their shit.

He was happy to be back, don’t get him wrong. He lit up when he saw his brother’s faces again, when he felt their arms wrap around him. He laughed when Travis joked about thinking he was dead, and when Connor quipped that the camp was seconds away from starting a revolution. He nodded at Chiron, smiled amusedly when Mr D rolled his eyes, he scooped Annabeth into his arms, whispered to her that yes, he was alive, and he let himself be whisked to his table, the crowd following like moths to a flame.

It was slightly overwhelming, but he was well-equipped to deal with it. He liked the feeling — if he ignored the throbbing on the side of his face, it could be like he’d never even left. The quest never happened, the dragon never happened, and people are just happy to see him because he’s their counsellor. Of course they would be. Everything was fine.

Everything was fine — so he ignored the urge to scan his eyes across the crowd in search of a familiar head of hair. He stopped himself from glancing at the Apollo table, from looking in Lee’s direction, just in case he wasn’t standing alone.

Because he didn’t need you anymore. Not that he didn’t appreciate all you did for him, but the healing was done. He was better, he was back at camp — he was Luke Castellan again. If he looked for you, if he met those eyes and returned that smile, it would be admitting defeat. Admitting that he wasn’t better, that he still needed his doctor.

But he didn’t. Because he was back, baby! And he didn’t need to think about that stupid quest, his stupid dad, or his stupid scar ever again.

He had a short chat with Chiron, who looked a little uneasy when he expressed his readiness to get back to camp duties. He told him that it was fine if he needed time to settle in, but Luke was firm. He didn’t need to settle, he didn’t need to wait. So Chiron sighed, and told him to escort his cabin to the climbing walls for their morning session.

And that’s how the rest of the day went — climbing wall, arts and crafts cabin, strawberry fields, archery practice. Luke did it all, just like he used to before he left. If people would just stop looking at his damn scar, maybe he could pretend he never left at all. If they stopped murmuring about him being the secret camper, hidden from them this whole time, he could avoid thinking about you and the sweet touch of your fingers on his face.

The fact that he hadn’t seen you at all since his return helped him on that front — you weren’t around at breakfast, lunch or dinner. You weren’t in the infirmary whenever he peeked through the windows. You weren’t with the rest of your cabin when they were paired with Hermes for hand-to-hand defence practice.

Not that he was looking for you, or anything.

“Hey, man.” Chris clapped him on the shoulder as they walked up to breakfast. It had officially been twenty-four hours since Luke’s return, and the chatter had died down significantly. That was good for him, helped him ignore the fact that he was ever not there.

All he had to do was keep his eyes off you — who had magically reappeared in camp — as you also walked up to breakfast, the Apollo kids trailing behind you, Lee and Alina.

“Listen, you did great yesterday.” His brother was saying, and he zoned in on it. “It was like you never left.”

Cool, that was the plan.

“But it’s sword fighting today.”

Luke raised a brow, “So?”

“So…” Chris sang, awkwardly waving a hand, “You don’t have to jump right back into training us, is what I’m saying.”

He scoffed, running a hand through us curls, “Nah, bro, I’m good.”

“Are you sure? Because —“

“Y’know, Chris,” Luke sent his brother a cheeky look as they took their seats around the Hermes table, “if you’re scared to get back to my gruelling training sessions, just say that.”

Chris’ face fell, appalled, and he put a hand on his chest, “Scared? Dude, you’re the one who should be scared. I’ve gotten good since you’ve been gone.”

And there it was — a reminder that it wasn’t the same. That he couldn’t pretend he had never left, because nobody else was. Whatever, it’d be fine. A couple of weeks and this would all blow over and he would never have to think about it again.

The Amphitheatre, unlike the rest of the camp amenities, was familiar to him. He didn’t need to stand and take it all in like he did with everywhere else, because he’d been here not even a week ago with —

No. Stop. You aren’t in his life anymore. He never went on his quest. Everything is how it should be.

The kids gathered around him were letting off a range of emotions as Luke stood before them, sword in hand. The younger ones were giddy, eager to get back to training with their favourite teacher. Some of the older ones, however, were only slightly confused that he’d bounced back so quickly. If he had to spend three weeks in the Big House before even going outside, was he ready to jump right back into sword training? Maybe he’d go easier on them today, take it slow.

“Alright — if there’s anything I've learnt over the years, it’s that sword fighting is all about reflexes. So, today, we will be working on y’all’s dodging skills. Oliver, get up here!”

Luke was back on Mount Tamalpais. The fiery breath Ladon was shooting at him seared his skin and burnt holes into his shirt. He was ducking out of the way, but there was no room to breathe when another one of his hundred heads came at him with a fierce snarl. His sword felt useless in his hands, every swing being deflected and every jab proving useless compared to the dragon's swift movements.

He blinked, and he was back at camp. Sparring with an unclaimed kid who’s name was lost on him. Sweat dripped down his brows but he wiped it away with shaky fingers. He gave an off-handed comment on the kids form before calling a water break.

“Yo— woah, man!”

Chris looked wide-eyed at Luke. He had tapped him gently on the shoulder and he had responded with an aggressive swing towards him. He stepped out of the arc just in time, but Luke still dropped the sword like it had burnt him. He stepped back, hands shaking, and stared at the ground.

It was odd — being at Archery in the mornings. You’d spent three weeks skipping the hour in favour of taking food to Luke and ensuring his dressings were changed. Which for most cabins, was what? Three classes a week?

Not for the Apollo kids — who have always and will always have their first hour spent on the Archery fields. Mainly because it’s when the sun is rising, shining on them in the early mornings and giving them their power to hit the bullseye. You included, even if healing was more your purview.

So you’d missed probably around twenty classes, give or take a few. Your form was, well, subpar at best. Lee had to spend the entire hour making sure you didn’t accidentally hit one of your siblings — and that was after he had to re-teach you the basics.

You probably would’ve been better had you not been so distracted — your mind whirring with thoughts of Luke. You wished your brain would just leave it alone, but apparently you weren’t done mulling over the situation. You wanted to slap yourself across the face and say hey, idiot. The three weeks is up, he’s healed. It’s over. But your siblings would probably look at you weird, so you decided against it.

Instead, you threw yourself into your duties. Archery was a bump in the road, but now you were smooth sailing. You didn’t focus on anything else but what you had to do that day — not taking a moment to breathe because if you did that, you’d start thinking about Castellan again. You didn’t want that, you really didn’t want that.

It was going really well, too. But then Chiron just had to interrupt your canoeing session, asking you to clear out any medical supplies you left over in the spare room of the Big House since nobody was staying there anymore.

Oh, great. You were thinking about him again.

And then all the thoughts you’d been suppressing since ten in the morning were overflowing your head, and you thought you might have had to ask Mr D if you were going mad because when you cracked open the door and peeked your head in, Luke was sitting on the edge of the bed like usual and you had to blink to make the hallucination go away.

Except it didn’t go away. Instead it looked at you and smiled, “Hi.”

Your lips parted, and you stepped in. Your eyebrows curved in on themselves, “Uh, hey. What are you…”

You were still about seventy percent sure that he wasn’t real, but nobody was there to listen to you talk to air, so you replied anyway. Luke clicked his tongue, let out a chuckle, then sighed, “I don’t think I can do it.”

Okay, fifty percent sure.

“Do what?”

“Go back out there.” He gestured a hand to the window that pointed outside, although it was still covered with the curtain. “I thought…I dunno, I guess I got too excited yesterday. Thought I was ready to jump back into it.”

You stepped fully through the threshold, and he followed you with his eyes as you walked over to the desk. Nothing but a few spare bandages that you scooped into your arms before looking back at him. You tilted your head, “Healing isn’t linear. It’s perfectly normal to feel like you’re on top of the world one day and then like it’s crumbling around you the next.”

He stood, walked over to you. Thirty percent.

“I don’t want to disappoint them.”

“You won't.” You shook your head, “You made a big step, coming back to camp. That's it for now, you don’t need to take any more big steps for a while.”

He nodded, “No more big steps.”

“Not until you’re ready.”

Luke’s hands reached out, taking the bandages from where you cradled them to your chest. He put them back onto the desk behind you. Ten percent.

His eyes bore into yours, “I don’t think I’m done healing.”

You shook your head surely, “I don’t think you are, either. And that’s okay.”

He nodded, lips clicking when he parted them, “Which means you’re not allowed to leave me yet. You have to stay with me until I’m fully better.”

You shook your head then, stammering, “It’s — that’s not how it works. What you went through, it — you might not ever be fully better.”

But Luke just nodded like he knew that already, taking a step closer, “I think I’m okay with that.”

“Oh.” You didn’t know what else to say. What the hell do you say to that? “Okay.”

He nodded, pressing his lips together, “So you’re not gonna leave me.”

Five percent.

A shake of your head, “Not until you ask me to.”

“Good.”

He wrapped his arms around you, and you froze. Okay, he was real. He was really there. You were sure. You hugged him back — he buried his face into your neck and whispered something about you never leaving him again and you whispered something in return about how you wouldn’t dream of it.

So, apparently, you severely underestimated what it was like to be friends with Luke.

You’d thought about it — of course you had. You would imagine what perfect golden boy Luke Castellan was like when he didn’t have to be a perfect golden boy. When he could just be a boy, hanging out with his friends like a normal person would. What jokes did he tell? Did he still keep up that Luke Castellan Grin or did he relax into an easy smirk? Did he make his friends follow the rules even when they were alone? Did he follow the rules when he was alone?

You wondered, although you never thought you’d actually find out. But he’d made it clear you were never leaving his side so long as he still needed you — and he was sticking to that. Firmly.

The summer sun was hot on your back — only this time your dad seemed to be going easy on you, as you weren’t completely uncomfortable under the warm cotton of your camp shirt. You still wafted it every now and then, proving some cool air to your chest, but overall you were feeling good.

You walked into the Amphitheatre with the rest of your siblings — who were less than amused that, despite Luke’s return to camp, Tyler P from the Hephaestus cabin was still running sword fighting practice. They heaved themselves onto the tiered seats with dramatic groans, but he simply grinned at them.

You paused from where you were about to sit down next to Alina when a waving hand caught your peripheral. It was Luke, tucked into the very top corner of the steps, smiling at you from the shadows.

“What the hell are you doing?” You asked when you reached him, raising your brow in amusement. He patted the spot next to him and you sat down, just as Tyler began to talk. Luke leaned in.

“I’m watching.” He muttered into your ear, then he smirked at you, “You can’t stop me from doing that.”

“I wasn’t going to.” You murmured, leaning back on your elbows and watching as your siblings paired up reluctantly. “Thanks for pulling me away, though. Gives me an excuse not to take part.”

Luke huffed a laugh, “He can’t be that bad, right?”

“Just you wait.” You smirked.

Turns out, Tyler was that bad. Every ‘new skill’ he tried to teach them either (a) they already knew, something Luke liked to whisper at you with a shake of his head, or (b) he couldn’t even do it himself, let alone teach others how to. Another thing Luke commented on from where he sat beside you, hands aching to get in there and show him what was what.

“Just one tip, and then I’ll go.” He begged under his breath as Tyler dropped his sword for the umpteenth time. “Please.”

“No.” You didn’t even look at him, “Because one tip turns into a demonstration. And a —“

“— a demonstration turns into a class, yeah yeah.” He rolled his eyes, but you just grinned at him. He smiled, “You’re mean.”

“I know.” You said in a faux-sympathetic tone. You pouted at him, “I’m just so cruel, aren’t I?”

His eyes narrowed, and his mouth stretched into a disbelieving grin, “Damn, doc. What happened to you?”

You scoffed amusedly, “You did.”

His mouth dropped open and you smiled, looking away. He poked your side and you shuffled away with a giggle, attempting to ignore his riled up smile. He didn’t relent, for every inch you moved away from him, he scooted right back towards you. You looked at him with a narrowed gaze, “I miss when you were too miserable to talk to me.”

“No you don’t.” He shook his head. He was right, you didn’t.

He let out a slow breath through his nose, and you felt it on your face. That was when you realised how close your faces were — mere centimetres apart. You swallowed thickly, but you didn’t move away. Luke’s smile stretched, and his hand began to inch up your arm.

You squinted, “What are you doing?”

It was his turn to feign confusion, pulling his lips into the same pout you did only moments earlier, “What are you talking about?”

His hand was at your elbow now, sliding higher. You shook your head, a minute movement, “Doctor Patient Fraternising isn’t allowed.”

He gasped, pulling his hand back in favour of placing it dramatically against his chest, “It’s not?”

“Nope.” You grinned amusedly, “Sorry.”

“Damn.” He leaned back, glancing at you for a second before looking back towards Tyler’s shitshow of a sword lesson, “Guess I’ll have to get another doctor.”

You snorted, “You’re a loser.”

You stood up and went to rejoin your siblings, and Luke shouted after you, “I’m your loser!”

“What was that?” Lee asked when you stopped beside him.

“What? Oh,” You glanced back at where Luke was sat, and he averted his gaze from where he had been looking at you. You looked up at your brother, “He’s just happy to be back, is all.”

He chuckled, “Sure.”

Whatever. He was your person again and Lee could suck your dick if he had anything to say about it.

🏷️ @aceofswordsandarrows @cowsandcomics @number-onekidqueen @kestisvrse @m00ng4z3r @mischiefmoons @how2besalty @iinlovewithfictionalppl @lilacspider @l0ve-dov3 @coffi-cake @ironmanbaldes @onecojg @hiraethavis @freaking0utficrecs @delphifarms @wildlyfreemoon @candylandy8173 @sinnercry @featherofthecrow @babellucci @telliette @totallynotnic

#i hate this #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan is a loser and i love him #percy jackson #luke castellan x you #pjo

1K notes · View notes