just have such an image of Steve keeping it together in the direct aftermath, being so calm because he has to be; if he thinks for one second more about Max and Eddie, he doesn’t know what he’ll do, but he knows it won’t be anything helpful. So he doesn’t. He doesn’t.
He forces himself to have a one-track mind: get out of The Upside Down. Get Dustin to hospital. Fix his leg. That’s easy, that’s only three steps, and sure Dustin isn’t talking anymore, just staring blankly ahead and following wherever Steve leads him, but that’s fine, Steve can do the talking for the both of them, this is easy, this is—
And then they get to the hospital, and it’s chaos, people running, crowding, and Steve murmurs low, urgent, “Stay close to me,” and he means I’m not leaving you.
But the intensity of people shoving just gets worse, and Steve reaches for Dustin too late, he’s already gone, how can he be, Steve promised—
Panic surges in Steve’s chest, and he’s fighting against the tide of the crowd—yelling frantically like he did in The Upside Down, in Nancy’s living room, “Dustin, Dustin!”
Except now he can’t hear Dustin, he can’t hear him, and Robin’s face flashes into view, eyes wide and wet, and all Steve can say desperately is, “I can’t leave him, I can’t leave him.”
“Steve,” comes Nancy’s voice, and there’s a knowing edge to the sound, like she gets it, and when Steve turns it’s to see her point, and—
It’s barely a glimpse, but it’s enough; Steve runs.
And Dustin’s there, swept up in another part of the crowd, and he’s fighting against it too, pain contorting his expression as he drags his bad foot, “Steve!”
His voice cracks, already hoarse from screaming. Someone strikes him in the shoulder, and he almost goes down.
Something inside Steve finally snaps.
“Don’t touch him,” he seethes, and he hits out at people, uncaring if it hurts, all that matters is—
“Dustin,” he says, and they’re suddenly on the ground, Dustin scrabbling into his arms—it seems as if the crowd has finally eased just a little, has parted around them. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”
He doesn’t realise he’s crying until he hears Dustin sobbing his heart out, too.
“Shh,” Steve says, “it’s okay, it’s okay.”
“Don’t go,” Dustin says, constricted with tears. “Please don’t go, please don’t go.”
And Steve knows that he means something more than just staying here in this awful hospital corridor.
“I won’t,” he swears. Shudders and kisses the top of Dustin’s head fiercely. He can’t hold any of it back now: just clings to the kid still in his arms, and cries and cries. “I won’t, I won’t.”
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