Stonathan ❤️

26

NOT MINE!!

all credits go to stealthyninja on ao3

Knock knock.

God knows what brought him back to the front of the Byers house, but Steve sure is silently praying that no interdimensional monster greets him, ready to once again steal the starring role in his occurring nightmares. He would much prefer his ass handed to him by Jonathan one more time than have to deal with that thing whose face opens up to endless rows of teeth, clawing its way out of the ceiling and chasing him down the hallway, enough to not give him a wink of sleep. Not that he's had a proper sleep since he'd swung the nailed bat at that thing and watched it burn to the ground.

It's barely been a week, and it doesn't look like he's recovering any time soon.

There's nothing he could wish for than for Hawkins to go back to being a boring, old, mess of a town where nothing ever really happened.

At least it used to be.

And then it clicks in his head: Steve's supposed to try his luck at offering another apology (after he was so rudely interrupted by that thing, thank you very much) as well as return the nailed bat to Jonathan.

"Oh, Steve, hey. What brings you here?"

Steve snaps out of his thoughts, realising a few seconds later that Mrs. Byers is now standing in front of him. A smile on her lips but exhaustion in her eyes. Suddenly wary, Steve wonders for a brief moment if the beginning and end of the fight between him and Jonathan has ever been explained to her in full detail, though he doubts she'd ever given it much thought while her youngest son had gone missing for a whole week.

The youngest Byers appears by his mother's side. Steve can't help but notice how pale and sickly he looks, grimacing slightly. He doesn't even want to imagine what he went through in the time he was missing in another realm. Will looks at the teen. "Steve?"

All of a sudden, footsteps come running towards the door and three heads imitate the behavior of a mushroom as they pop up in the doorway.

"Steve Harrington?"

"You mean, King Steve?"

"What does he want?!"

Of course, it's little Wheeler and his gang of nerds, boring holes into Steve's soul as they stare at him. The tension in his body shifts down to the bat that's held tightly in his fist. Suddenly he's the center of attention, feeling somewhat naked as he's being carefully examined. Must children be so nosey?

"You look like shit!" The teen notices the stern look Mrs. Byers gives Mike, obviously not pleased with his choice of words. It was supposed to be her job to interrogate him! Though the nasty gashes have begun to heal, it doesn't hide the fact that he does indeed, still, look like shit.

Steve is fighting the strong urge to roll his eyes at the little boy; he can't figure out why he seems to hate his guts. "Yeah, not the first time someone said that to me." The teen turns to the woman with a rather forced smile. "Anyway, Mrs. Byers! Actually I'm here for Jonathan. I just want to talk, that's all. If he's in there. I mean, if that's okay?"

"Not a problem, come in." Mrs. Byers lets him inside the house. "I'm so sorry for the mess.. Though they've been helping me clean up.."

Steve's eyes quickly dart up at the ceiling as horrifying images from that night hit him like a ton of bricks. There's still traces of blood, the television tipped over to the side, the stained area from where Jonathan had set the trap and burnt the monster, the smell of gasoline looming in the air and the Christmas lights dangling from every corner. It does seem like the kids have been helping the Byers clean up the mess, the evidence, just taking it easy, because this will never be easy. Never mind a banged up house when it's nothing compared to what Steve witnessed that night.