Surrender // Steve Harrington x Reader

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐘-𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓

There wasn't much to remember after that. Not that you could right away anyway. But in among the black clouds was the occasional flash of reality. 

Hands as they encircle and lift you. Head lolling against a solid shoulder, the curve of the bone digging into your temple. Eyes briefly opening and closing on occasion to catch sight of the underside of Steve's jaw as he carried you, mouth in a slack line as the sky moves quickly above him. 

"Robin, Nance, hurry!" You think you could remember him shouting to them, voice cracking and breaking. 

Then there was crying, desperate sobs as he gets to Eddie's trailer. It was Dustin, you think. You tried to open your eyes to see but only saw brief flashes of blood, dead bats and... No. Eddie. He was lying motionless on the ground, Dustin clutching to his bloodied shirt as he cried.

Had you the lucidity to, you would have jumped free of Steve's arms and mourned the lifeless body as well. Your hand drops from yourself though, a weak attempt to reach out for him. 

But then the darkness took over once more, encompassing you in a chilling warmth that settled goosebumps over your flesh while its hot breath coaxed you into giving up entirely. How could you, though? When you were this close to Steve that you could feel his scent seep into your core, giving you reason to carry on. 

The next time you wake, you're in the Winnebago, or so you think. It's dimly lit and hurling quickly through the roads. Robin was there, holding your hand. "Hang on, just -- fuck, please, hang on." She pleads but... God, it was just so exhausting. 

Blackness again. 

It lasts longer this time, and the next time you wake, everything around you was white and blurred at first. A steady beeping comes in rhythmic tones, matching the beats of your heart. You were in a hospital. 

You were.. Alive? You think?

Lids blink, neck rising against the dull ache in it to look around. "Robin?" She was asleep in the little blue chair at your side though she wakes instantly at your question, features shifting from shock to relief as her hand comes to take your own. You swallow your disappointment that she wasn't Steve. You felt lucky instead that at least someone was here with you.

"Oh thank God, you're awake." She breathes out, eyes rimmed with glistening droplets that refuse to come out. "The doctors said it could be a few more days, but I'm impatient y'know and it's already been a week, a-and I was worried because they said if you hit your head then you might not even remember anything at all and--" She pauses, noticing the look on your face that indicated you were struggling to keep up. "Sorry. Are you-- How do you feel?"

"Like I fell out of a window." You croak, attempting a joke. Poor timing. She helps you to sit since it was difficult with how feeble your limbs were and all the wires and tubes in the way. One of which was in your nose, flowing with oxygen to help you breathe. "I probably have no place to ask this, but..."

"He hasn't." She snips in quickly, though she had the kindness to plaster her expression with a pitying smile. "Been to see you. That's what you were going to ask, right?"

Oh. You understood. Fully. But still, the reality of it stung.

"Miss Buckley, could you give us a minute?" A new voice. Female. You didn't recognise it, or the woman it belonged to, stood in the doorway of the room. She was slender and stoic, black hair pulled back from wrinkled visage and a deep burgundy lipstick lining a thin grimace. She was wearing a black blazer and skirt with a white shirt underneath and was holding a brown folder in the crook of her elbow. 

Robin gives an awkward goodbye and leaves. You smile at her, a silent gratitude for even being here. 

The woman comes closer once the room is empty, despite the glare you sent her way to prevent her from doing otherwise. You didn't trust her. She settles in the now vacant chair and regards you coolly as she flips open the folder. "Miss (Y/L/N)... That is the name you chose, correct?" She checks with you and you frown, wondering how she knew that, but nodding your confirmation all the same. "I represent a Dr Sam Owens and Dr Martin Brenner."