#sad stuff
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awakeningnostalgia · 4 months ago
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Peaky Blinders
THOMAS SHELBY
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ribbondee · 22 days ago
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New TADC headcanon:
The last interaction between Kinger and his wife before her abstraction was... a fight.
When he finally went to her room so he could say sorry, it was too late.
Needless to say Kinger blames himself for his wife Abstracting.
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nicolegmattos · 9 months ago
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I won’t cry alone about this (sorry 🥲)
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teaboot · 2 years ago
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Guys I'm on the last episode of Trigun 1998 right now and I am dead serious please for the love if God do not watch this unless you are fully prepared to ugly cry with gross noises, snot, wailing, the whole nine yards, I swear to christ almighty they hooked me in with the space cowboys premise and dropped my guard with goofy slapstick "lmao 90's anime cringe" flailing wacky silly crap and then they tore my goddamn heart in half. I feel like I just got stabbed. I feel like I just got back from a funeral. Im covered in tears and my eyes swelled up. I hate myself. Fuck
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nelapanela94 · 10 months ago
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In case your voice comes back. He tosses and turns and bangs awake from his sleep. Takes a deep breath, rubs his incomplete hand down his clammy face. Another day goes by. A day just like the previous one, copied in carbon paper. What is the meaning of the hours? He wonders. He reaches for the ring laying on the nightstand, squeezes it in his palm as if to weld it into his skin. Because the caresses were not enough. Levi curls under the covers, reenacting that last embrace and feels for those who have not lost the ability to cry.
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euniexenoblade · 3 months ago
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It's a crazy feeling to think about how I have made hundreds of people realize they're trans and transition. And that's a low ball park estimate (lol) that's like, relatively verified from people telling me so. Just a crazy thing to realize/remember that I've had any kind of inspiration on just one person, let alone that many.
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overwatch · 4 months ago
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I lost over 20kg and got an eating disorder after nearly dying cancer + surgery + chemo. Today, after 4 whole months of chemo, I finally got my first (government issued oncology) psychology/therapy session.
This is the same therapist who saw me for like 20 minutes when I was on a wheelchair and dying in January.
So she sees me and I don't remember her, and she's sure she knows me, stars bringing up my case, my session, my mom pushing me on the wheelchair to that session, etc.
She says I look so different, because I lost so much weight. Then she adds "at least there's a good side to this story, am I right?"
It's been a few hours and only now am I rethinking the conversation. And how fucked up what she said was. Add in that she's a medical professional responsible for the mental health of cancer and dying patients.
I miss my body so much. My curves. My titties. My ass. How supple I was. I am but a scarred corpse, in mourning, and yet. Fatphobia is so culturally acceptable here that it just slips so freely out of their mouths the moment after they greet me.
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waste-land-babey · 26 days ago
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"but when i'm sick and tired
and when my mind is barely there
when a machine keeps me alive and i'm losing all my hair
i hope you kiss my rotten head and pull the plug."
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deltamb3r · 1 year ago
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Today I offer you sad Lambert
Tomorrow? who knows
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neophytepagan · 2 months ago
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for caecade ask... I'm curious if u have any thoughts on arcades ending when hes sold to the legion. Caesar mourning him for months after is so insane to me augh
suicide and death warning....
of course a lot of the shipping aspect of it is reliant on this scenario, which ultimately ends in tragedy rivaling the greeks. its both very poetic and bittersweet. intentionally so. arcade is always running from everything in his life, and even in bondage he finds a way to escape. I sometimes toy with the idea of turning it into more of a cleopatra thing, the parallels are more ... intense since cleopatra was julius caesar's lover. But arcade going out of his way to make his suicide as gruesome and painful for himself as possible just to one up caesar one last time? Thats intense. He went out of his way to hurt Caesar, Arcade KNOWS in this ending just how much Caesar cares for him in advance. He knows taking himself out of the equation will devastate him. And after years of being caesar's slave, its much more of an impulsive thing. Something pushed him over the edge, out of the complacency he's gotten into in order to protect himself from reality. And i really like to imagine when Caesar finds him with the life draining out of him, too weak to move or struggle, Arcade is smiling, letting out a breathy laugh while Caesar is in utter disbelief. Because hes won. Hes going to be free now and caesar cant do anything. Caesar's screaming crying trying to press down on his organs and keep him alive — you cant leave me. everyone fucking leaves me. And caesar has his his bloody hands on arcade's palid cheeks when he goes limp in his arms
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wierdpersonononelikes · 9 months ago
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I still love you
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(Hey its me again so I have some news but at the end of the story and yes it's another sad one I know but I just like making agnst I think it would fit for it IDK but here is a playlist i msde some songs are in Spanish so sorry ��)
It has been a week since you saw larissa she decided to cut things off it was sad depressing how could she just stop this after 4 years she was everything to you and you thought you were her everything I guess after her ex roommate morticia started to talk to her and flirt i guess everything went downhill, you two had a fight because of her she was taking larissa and larissa didn't try to deny it. Today you had to go to nevermore being a teacher wasn't easy and after Larissa breaking things off was going to be hard to keep yourself calm but it was going to be okay. When you got there you didn't saw larissa it was good but you forgot there was a meeting and you had to walk yourself to the conference room and when you open the big door you saw larissa sitting in the head of the table and you sat on the opposite side of it and you two were the only there so you took your phone out and you felt her gaze it was intoxicating you still loved her you wanted to cry but you couldn't. Finally more people came to the room and the meeting started. After the meeting everything went fine. You saw Larissa sometimes and ignored her and that's how the rest of the week went. Something you didn't like was that you had to go to the apartment you shared. She was living somewhere else but you could still smell her scent and when you lay in your bed you imagined her laying next to you. On Friday night you went to a bar . You had a couple of drinks and you were going to head when you saw her kissing Morticia. It shattered you and you felt broken. She had already broken up with you but you still felt betrayed. Tears started to fall and you then realized that she was looking in your direction as she kissed Morticia you left and went to buy more alcohol. you went home and started to drink until you were knocked out because of all of the alcohol.
(Sorry I apologize for bot writing the story i said i was going to write it just the story im basing mine is having a down hill because sad things have been happening to the main character so yeah snyway i now it's veen so long sorry about that I been "busy" yes and no most if yhe times I'm lazy and don't kbow what to write 😅😅)
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awakeningnostalgia · 4 months ago
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Peaky Blinders
"You've got enough trouble oi? The whiskey and the smoke?"
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pudurosado · 2 months ago
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Pray
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black-suns-rim · 5 months ago
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Shattered Cyrstal - The shattering
Short story. This may become a series, so let's say this is part 1.
Warning: death, graphic imagery
Everything's a blur...
"Ugh.. everything hurts... what happened?" The large figure tried to get up. He winced in pain and held his side as he slowly sat on his knees. He held his head as his ears rang loudly through his head. He looked up to see the quart room, once white and gold, now in a red light. The stone pillars that were once decorated now were broken, chipped and cracked. Stone fragments laid on the ground along with the statues of past Light Priests.
His eyes slowly began to focus and the ringing in his ears ceased. "No... no, no, no..." Stone shards rained down from the sky as he got up, grunting in pain, ducking for safety. "The crystal..." He didn't believe what he saw. He had to look again. He had to see if his eyes were telling the truth. Peeking out from his safe cover, he saw it; red, violently spinning and shooting out shards. The same shards that were falling from the sky. The crystal that once was made of pure light, it was no more.
He leaned his back up against the pillar he was hiding behind, "this can't be... how?.." He noticed something odd amongst the broken stone as he was trying to recall the events that happened before this. He squinted his eyes to try and see more clear. His heart sank as he realized what he was staring at and then all his memories came flooding back to him. The events became clear in his mind before he was knocked out.
The screaming, he heard it now, all around him. His senses were heighted as his heart began to thump within his chest. A Light Priest was crawling on the floor, injured serverly, trying to get to cover when a shard fell from the sky and hit them. He witness the Light Preist get Impaled and turn to stone. He gasped as he looked around in panic. Remembering everyone who was in the quart room with him before the crystal shattered.
"Alef! ALEF!?" He left his safety as he desperately called out, "ALEF! MY SON! WHERE ARE YOU!?" He winced and limped, taking cover when he needed to. The shards were shooting out of the reddened and broken crystal in timed periods. "ALEF!" He called out once more. He traveld closer to the crystal where the shards became more frequent, "ALEF! AL- Alef...? Alef!" He ran to the stone body that bore his son's clothing.
"No, no, no, NO, NO!" His voice cracked and shook as he fell to his knees at the small cold stone statue body. He picked it up, "No! My Alef! This can't be! My boy..? No... my Alef..." He held the stiff body in his hands as he began to weep. His son was small enough to fit in his hands, but was larger than any other child of the kingdom since he was of royal blood.
He was out in the open and the shards fell on him, but he ignored the pain. The adrenaline was high and he didn't believe what he was holding to be his son, "This can't be you?... no, you were here! You were here..."
He held the stone body close to his chest, not wanting to believe it was him. But he still weped. The shards pelted him for a while before someone began to shout for him.
"MY KING? MY KING!" He didn't hear the strained small voice over his weeping and the sound of the shards hitting the ground, the pillars, the statues and so on.
"Oh my Alef, my sweet Alef..." He kept repeating.
"MY KING!" The small voice became louder as it came closer. He heard the voice and recognized who it was.
"He's dead..." He choked back tears, his voice not loud enough for them to hear.
"My king?..."
"HE'S DEAD! My little boy! My Alef, he's gone!" He cried out.
The small figure stood behind the hunched over king. They stammered, trying to speak and hearing how heartbroken he was, "King Resh, we need to get out of here. It's not safe."
Another figure appeared behind him, limping with a large battle spear in his hands, using it as a crutch, "My King, Lamed is right. It's not safe here, we need to get out."
"Tsadi... Lamed... where are the others?..." He turned to face them. He saw the both were injured, Tsadi more than Lamed.
"They are out of the storm and safe. We tried to rescue as many as we could while you were knocked out. We didn't know if you would even wake up..." Tsadi hesitated, "Alef... he refused to go to safety... He... He saved as many as he could. Your son was brave... and a true leader."
"My king, you're injured, we need to leave before it gets any worse." Lamed pleaded. Resh was silent as he held onto the stone body of his son. The giant king stood up to his full height, gripping his side under his cloak as he did so. He looked down at his two friends. The shards came down again, hitting his back. This time he felt it and grunted in pain.
"With the rest of my strength, I will get us out of here." Resh tucked away the small stone body of his son into one of the many pockets. He picked up Lamed and Tsadi as if they were just toddlers, and with what little light magic he had left, the king charge up his cape. As if his cape were a pair of wings, he used it to shoot up into the air like a bird.
The light magic he had left was enough to keep them in flight until they were able to reach safety, where the other injured were taken. King Resh landed, stumbling before letting go of Lamed and Tsadi. He felt light headed and his vision faded to black before he fell over. When his body hit the floor, the ground beneath everyone shook.
"MY KING!" Tsadi yelled, "GET A HEALER OVER HERE, NOW!" Tsadi went up to Resh. He noticed strange dark shards coming out from the king. He didn't like the look of them. At least 3 healers ran over to the king to come to his aid.
Tsadi backed away as the healers began their work. He sat down on a stone bench and held his head. Lamed sat right next to him and placed a hand on his arm, "you should get looked at, you are far worse than the others."
"I won't be looked at until everyone else has been taken care of. Including you." His tone was soft but stern.
"As you wish..." She left and went to any available healer. Tsadi watched as the many healers frantically went forth and back to as many as they could. People were howling from sorrow and loss, others cried from pain. It heart is heart to hear all the pain. He spotted the other Realm Elders being treated which somewhat put him at ease.
Tsadi stood up and limped his way to a healer to be looked at. Daleth had watched Tsadi arrive with Lamed and the King before he had fainted from the injuries he obtained. Daleth's arm was broken and placed into a sling that hung from his back. The old Realm Elder slowly made his way to Tsadi and sat right next to him as he was being treated. Tsadi took notice of Daleth but didn't say a word. They sat together in silence as they watched the healers bring in an extremely large transportation boat for the king.
"Who knew this would happen..." Daleth broke the silence.
"Yeah... How are the twins, Teth and Ayin doing? Any bad injuries?"
"Broken arms, legs, ribs and concussions. The twins had to be sedated because they wouldn't stop moving while the healers tried to work on them." Daleth coughed and winced.
"Figures. They are young and don't know how to deal with pain like we do." Tsadi glanced at the old man while a healer was stitching his arm up.
"They could learn a lesson from you about dealing with physical pain." Daleth stood up.
"They could. But they wouldn't have the patience like I did when I went through my training."
"True. Take care, Tsadi. I'm going to aid the healers." Tsadi nodded as Daleth left. He looked up to the mountain the crystal was kept on. A violent storm was forming around it and he had a horrible feeling this was only the beginning of something far worse.
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moonblacckkk · 11 months ago
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bendeddicksssss · 7 months ago
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The Ghost of Family Video
The first chapter of one of my fanfics on ao3 just to give a little sneak peak.
Summary in the shortest amount of words: Steve died after the events of Starcourt, and Eddie is a psychic who can see ghosts. I think you can guess what the fic is about ;)
Chapter 1: Steve Harrington is Dead
Robin Buckley started working at Scoops Ahoy for the same reason every other teen gets a job; she wanted money. Her parents were never the type to ask her to help with the bills, nor did they ever ask her to get a job, but she enjoyed having money stored up for college and emergencies. It was cushioning for both her and her parents if they ever needed it, and, with her brother at college, they needed all the help they could get. She had a job before–started working the ticket stand at Hawkins old theater when she was 15. She was 17, however, when she started working at Scoops Ahoy—working with Steve Harrington.
Robin never had a job that didn’t include a coworker, but Steve was an entirely different concept. He didn’t feel like a coworker, even if they did work together. He felt like an entity more elusive than Bigfoot. She hated Steve, but she didn’t hate him in a normal sense. She hated him because he made her heart grow heavy with comfort, despite the fact that he was a homophobic, dick-bag of a jock. At least, that’s what Robin assumed when they started working together. Steve proved her assumptions wrong within the first week of working together. He brought back coffee whenever he went on his break. He offered his extra breaks to Robin if she looked tired. He insisted on taking in all the heavy stock, and he never let Robin pay for her own dinner or lunch if she forgot to pack one. Even then, she hated him.
She hated him like the ocean hates the beach. They were stuck in a constant battle of one metaphorically crashing into the other, but, in a strange way, it worked. Each crash of a wave chipped at the other person’s sandy shore, letting out pieces of shells and hidden creatures in the tide pools. Each wave was a new discovery about who the other person really was. They were the ocean against the beach. Waves in the sand. Forever connected. Steve and Robin. 
That feeling within their “friendship” was even before all hell broke loose and before Robin knew Russian spies hid beneath the mall and monsters worse than the ones under her bed were real. Even with their mutual teasing and stormy beaches, no one could deny that Steve and Robin were connected. No one could deny that they were, at least, friends. Robin tried to deny it. If anyone asked, she’d tell them that Steve was just another schmuck she was stuck slinging ice cream with. A rich kid who was forced into a job by his snooty parents. He was nothing to her, but she was only lying when she said that. Steve wasn’t nothing. He wasn’t nothing at all.
Steve was a walking puzzle missing half the pieces and the guiding picture, yet Robin tried her hardest to figure him out. It was impossible. He was a mystery confusing enough to stump Sherlock. He flinched at flickering lights and dissociated in the cold freezer where they stored ice cream. He kept a baseball bat in the trunk of his car that Robin had only ever seen the handle of, which had a small brown stain on it—one that looked suspiciously like blood. In an expected fashion, he teased Robin about still being in high school, calling her “Freshman” with every other sentence despite the fact that she was on her way to her senior year. Strangest of all, he refused to let Robin ride her bike home after the closing shift; she rode with him nearly every day with her bike in the backseat of his car. Eventually, he started picking her up to be taken to work too. It wasn’t even a conversation between them; he just showed up while Robin was dragging her bike down her driveway. She didn’t try to argue, seeing the dark bags under his eyes and the silent begging within them—a look built more of fear than desperation. She couldn’t have said no even if she tried. Besides, who was she to turn down a free ride?
Steve also had a pack of kids who followed him like ducklings to their imprinted mother. “I babysit them.” He always used it as an excuse, but that never made sense to Robin. To start off, she knew for a fact that Scoops was Steve’s first job. He never mentioned being a babysitter until they started showing up. She also knew that most of the kids have older siblings. Growing up with an older brother, Robin knew that older siblings are usually stuck with the babysitting job. Max Mayfield, Will Byers, Mike Wheeler–they all had older siblings. Why would their parents waste the money in hiring Steve? Moreso, why, out of all the high school students in Hawkins, would they choose Steve to babysit? He was a jock known for getting drunk at parties and flirting with everything with boobs. He didn’t exactly scream babysitting material.
Outside of his role as “Mama Duck”, Steve was also friends with Jonathan Byers, even though the man was known around school for stealing ‘King Steve’s’ girlfriend. In fact, Steve’s face lit up like a Christmas tree the few times Jon came into shop, even when the boy was there without his younger brother or any of the other children. 
Despite her initial shock, Robin could handle these discoveries and odd traits. She could handle Steve being friends with a few kids and with Jonathan Byers, but there was a fact about Steve Harrington that stood out above the rest. The most surprising thing about Steve was that he wasn’t, at all, what Robin thought he’d be. He wasn’t a douchebag. He wasn’t a ‘womanizer’, like her friend, Kate, would always call him. Sure, Steve flirted with everything and anyone that breathed, but he was always respectful. He made eye contact and complemented their hair or their smile. He was even nicer with the customers without boobs, complimenting them even if he wasn’t trying to get laid. Steve Harrington wasn’t Steve Harrington. He was just… Steve. Her coworker. Her friend. Her puzzle that she spent the first half of that summer trying to figure out. 
It wasn’t until she saw a monster bigger than her house that she discovered all the missing pieces of Steve. Why he flinched at flickering lights and why the cold always bothered him. She figured why he prefers cats and smaller dogs to bigger ones. She figured out he was smarter than he let on, having intelligence in things besides books and school. She figured out he was selfless. He threw himself headfirst into danger to try and save a couple of kids, one of whom she was pretty sure he hated because Erica Sinclair was an asshole of a child, but he saved them. He tried to save Robin too, but Scoop's captains stick together, right? She wasn’t gonna leave him alone, and that idea scared her more than anything. Just one traumatic experience together and she was already codependent of a man whose head was more hairspray than brains. 
She doesn’t know how long they were in the bunker for. All she knew was that Steve was nice to talk to. He listened, and he asked questions. She would try and urge him to talk, and he would, but she could tell he was holding back. Sure, she had all the pieces to the puzzle of Steve, but she still needed the bigger picture. 
“You think they’d buy it if I pretended I could only speak French?” Robin asked when they were left alone. The guard's voices were muffled just outside the door, so she talked to drown out the few Russian words she understood– “The boy… blue… spies… bleed.”
“What?” Steve asked a few seconds after her statement. 
Robin shrugged, her shoulders brushing against Steve’s, “I don’t know; it could work. I am fluent in French!” she sighed dejectedly, “I’m sorry. I’m just talking to not freak myself out. I’ll shut up.” she cleared her throat and looked to the ground, deciding that it probably wasn’t the best time to make jokes.
“Talk.” Steve suddenly urged. She looked at him. This was before they were tied back-to-back, so she could still look at him. “You don’t have to talk about them. Talk about anything… you’re gonna be a senior, right?” Robin nodded. “You want to go to college?” 
Robin tilted her head. This wasn’t the first time they had talked about college, but it was the first time the focus was on Robin. In past conversations, talks about school was usually Steve making fun of Robin being in high school and Robin making fun about Steve for not going to college. “I want to go to Chicago.” Robin answered. 
“The university?” Robin nodded. 
“I always wanted to live in a big city; Chicago is at the top of my list.” In all honesty, ever since Robin was young, she dreamed about living in a city, but she dreamed about going west to California–Hollywood. She wanted to be a director or a writer, but Chicago seemed like an easier option. A steppingstone to get to her dream. “Honestly, I don’t want to go to college, but I think a degree would be nice to fall back on.”
“What do you want to do?” 
Robin smiled, “I want to write.”
“Books? Articles?”
“Movies.” she corrected. Steve went on to ask about what kind of movies, and she talked about a few ideas she had for a romantic period piece (leaving out the sapphic details) until the door burst open. Robin had almost forgotten she was in a nightmare. She was grateful for his distraction. 
When they got separated, it was like time stood still. It could’ve been hours–days–weeks–minutes–seconds, and all Robin experienced was an empty mind and a racing heart. There were no clocks and no windows. Just her tied to a chair, and Steve… Steve being tortured. Robin heard Steve’s screams from all the way down the hall. She tried humming Blondie or Queen to drown them out but each one was louder than the last. Robin liked horror movies, sure. She watched thrillers with friends and would challenge herself to not chicken out, but the actors in those films never even came close to the screams Steve was making. They were blood curdling and garbling, as he begged for his life. For a break from the pain. Robin wished she could rip her ears off. Worst of all, she felt useless! Robin heard punches and Russian voices shouting at her friend, and all she could do was listen and hope that he was still breathing. Her parents never really forced any specific religion growing up. She wasn’t sure how prayers were supposed to work, but she tried her best: Please, God, let Steve be alive. I know I don’t believe in you. You probably hate me right now, but please let this scream not be his last. Please bring him back. 
Steve came back bruised and bloodied and unconscious, and Robin tried to feel for a pulse, screaming at the guards for answers. What happened? Fuck… She couldn’t find his heartbeat. Robin always sucked in anatomy class—got too grossed out by the dissections, but she knew it was somewhere on his neck… maybe the wrist? She just had to loosen her binds enough to feel for his heartbeat. She tried to reassure herself that she just had to keep looking, but she couldn’t find it! She couldn’t find his pulse and the guards were watching them, and she knew that she would be next in their sadistic crusade. They tied them back-to-back all while Robin was still panicking. When Steve took a gasp of air, she nearly added her own punch into the mix for scaring her, but the Russian guards were already moving on to the next form of torture. But, hey, Steve was alive. She wasn’t alone. 
Later, they sat beside a once-empty toilet. The stench and taste of vomit lingered in Robin’s nose and throat. The Starcourt bathroom tiles were sticky and covered in a thin layer of dirt and dust. The custodians must’ve not cleaned yet, as the theater was still open and, thus, the mall was open. Her heart stopped when she heard silence coming from Steve’s stall, but he was only thinking and resting. They’d been awake for nearly 48 hours now, and Robin was just waiting for the right moment to pass out.
Coming out to Steve was almost as terrifying as the entirety of the Russian base. He had just told her he found someone for himself (implied it was her), and she told him she liked girls. It was the truth, but you can’t just tell people that! Sure, Steve was miraculously not a douchebag, but straight guys don’t always take rejection well, and people, in general, don’t always take queer people well. But she was high and scared, and she wanted someone to know before she died. Robin should’ve learned by that point to not underestimate Steve Harrington. She should’ve figured out that Steve was as far from a bad person as someone could be. Steve Harrington wasn’t a bad person at all, though his Kermit impression was kind of shit.
“I’m like you.” He told her when they had another chance alone. It was when they were driving back to the mall to help their friends, leaving Dustin and Erica on the hill.
“What?” she asked.
“When I said I found someone better for me—better than Nancy; I was talking about…” he swallowed down the lump in his throat. “I was talking about a guy. His name’s Eddie.”
Robin smiled, “Oh…”
Steve’s face regained its color, and he laughed. “Yeah,” he snorted, “oh…”
Yeah, Steve wasn’t a bad person in the slightest…
He held her hand when they were hiding from the guards. He reached his arm out to hold her when he crashed into Billy Hargrove, so she wouldn’t hit the dashboard. He gave her his last firework to throw at the Flayer. He gave her a stick of gum he found hiding in his pocket when she complained about still tasting vomit. He gave her his shock blanket when she was still shaking beneath hers. He denied medical treatment and insisted they check on Robin and Dustin first. He snuck a few Band-Aids and an ice pack from the ambulance to take care of himself; Robin saw him do it, but she just assumed he had already been checked and was just grabbing extra supplies. Afterall, he told everyone that he was already checked on, “Go help someone else; I’m fine.” he insisted anytime a paramedic asked him. Ever the selfless hero… Steve.
After they were all debriefed and lightly threatened by the US government to keep their mouths shut and sign NDAs, Steve asked Jonathan if he’d be willing to drive them. “My head just hurts.” and Jonathan said sure. On the drive home, Steve was fighting off sleep in the backseat, leaning his head against Robin’s. No one could even fathom resting. Their bodies were still in fight or flight mode, ready to fight a monster that was already dead or guards that were buried beneath tons of dirt, ash, and debris. No one really questioned Steve’s exhaustion, though. They didn’t know the full story, but they knew Steve, Robin, Dustin, and Erica were trapped in that bunker for nearly days. No food. No water. No rest. Dustin and Erica passed out, afterall. Steve wasn’t the odd one out. If anything, Robin was, but she didn’t want to sleep. She just let Steve use her as a pillow.
Perhaps, she should’ve known something was wrong by him fighting off sleep so much. Robin’s not an idiot; she knows the signs of head trauma, but she was so tired. Perhaps, if she had been stronger and fought harder against the guards, she wouldn’t have gotten drugged. She would have had the mental clarity to notice one of Steve’s pupils was bigger than the other. She would’ve noticed him squinting and flinching at every light, flickering or not, and limping. Would’ve noticed he had to lean against the wall at every other step. Granted, she didn’t know if any of those things happened, but there must have been something she could’ve noticed! Something Robin could’ve seen, so she would know Steve needed help, but the man’s stubbornness was bigger than his hair, so, of course, she didn’t know.
Steve died not long after they left the mall. They had all gone to his house afterwards. No one wanted to be alone, and he had the most available space for everyone in the party. He also had a stockpile of extra clothes, blankets, pillows, and sleeping bags. Apparently, Steve really was a babysitter, or, at the very least, the kids’ honorary mother. After helping everyone find some supplies to go to sleep and some PJ’s, he went to bed early, saying he had a headache and was just going to take some Tylenol. Robin tried to go with him, but he insisted she stay and hang out with everyone. They were watching The Fox and the Hound because it was the only animated ("comforting") movie Steve had. “I know it’s for kids, but it’s one of my favorites.” He explained with a shrug, leaning against the railing for support. 
“Are you sure you’re, okay?” Robin asked. “Did the paramedics give you all clear?” 
Steve only laughed, “Yeah, Rob. I’ll be fine. Go watch the movie. I’ll see you in the morning.” He insisted, waving a dismissive hand. 
Steve’s voice broke when he said that sentence and, after watching him hopelessly lie to impress girls, Robin knew Steve’s voice broke when he lied. Yet, she didn’t say anything. She just assumed it was because he was tired. Surely, Steve wouldn’t turn down medical help. Surely, he wasn’t that careless about himself. Robin wished she knew this would be their last conversation, so she could think of something better to say.
“Okay. Love you, dingus.” She would’ve said, if she knew he wouldn’t actually see her in the morning.
Steve would’ve rolled his eyes. “Love you too, freshman.” She would punch his arm, making him wince and call her an ass. That’s how she likes to imagine their last conversation, but that’s not at all what they said. He still dismissed her and lied about his own health, but she didn’t tell him she loved him like she wishes she did. No, instead she said, “I’m surprised they could hurt your head so much beneath all that hairspray.” She stuck her tongue out between her teeth teasingly, “It’s like your own helmet, Harrington.” 
“Ha, ha.” Steve blanched while rolling his eyes. “You’re just jealous that I came prepared with protection.” he ran a hand through his hair for emphasis, making the sweat coated streaks fall around his forehead. Robin laughed and sent him off to bed with a promise that they’d spend all of tomorrow together, just to talk and heal. 
Nobody knows the exact time of death, as everyone was asleep, but the doctors believe it was shortly after their conversation—a bit past midnight. As it turns out, Steve went to sleep with one of those head injuries you’re not supposed to sleep with. Something got hit too hard beneath all that hair, and Steve simply stopped breathing. “It can happen in patients who have suffered from concussions or untreated head traumas. It’s common in those who have experienced a hemorrhage or aneurysm of some kind.” Nancy had explained, but, truly, there were a number of other variables that could’ve caused that. A bad reaction to that Russian drug, his concussion, a hole in his lung, internal bleeding, or even a really bad fever. In any case, Robin should’ve never let him go to bed alone. 
Another thing she wishes she could change is something she’ll forever be guilty for. Robin wishes more than anything that it was her who found the body. She wishes she wasn’t dealing with a hangover from that weird drug Steve and her were given and that coffee wasn’t the most important thing in the world. Coffee wasn’t the most important thing, but, at that moment, Robin would’ve traded her soul for a mug. Ms. Byers had made breakfast for everyone, and Steve was thought to be sleeping in, even though he was the first one to go to sleep. “I’ll get him.” Dustin volunteered, rolling his eyes and groaning like it was a chore.
The boy walked up the stairs and went to Steve’s bedroom. The door was open a bit, so Dustin didn’t feel the need to knock before he walked in. The first thing he noticed was that Steve’s bed sheets were messy, like he had moved around a lot in his sleep. The next thing he noticed was a Tylenol bottle on the floor; the cap was off, and the contents were spilled across the carpet. Dustin figured Steve had a nightmare and knocked the bottle and his sheets over, knowing nightmares were common for everyone in the party. Hell, there were quite a few nightmares during that night. Dustin had one. It was about Steve not making it back from the bunker. It was about Steve dead on a concrete floor.
At least, a bed is more comfortable than concrete.
“Hey, Steve, wake up.” Dustin nudged Steve’s foot, which was covered by his blanket. He was still wearing his Scoops uniform, being too tired to take it off, Robin supposed, or he passed out. “Steve, come on.” Dustin spoke louder and nudged him harder. 
Dustin moved forward and clapped his hands above Steve’s body. “Steve!” He nearly shouted. He reached forward to grab Steve’s arm with a roll of his eyes, and gasped when he felt how cold it was. His heart jumped to his throat and choked him like a noose. “S-Steve…?” his voice was shaking. Steve’s house always had great air conditioning. He was just cold from the AC; that was what Dustin told himself. It was cold in the house, and all of Steve's blankets fell off of him in the night, so he was cold. “Steve, this isn’t funny!” Dustin grabbed Steve’s arm and shook it. Steve felt stiff, like he was a mannequin and not a person. “Steve!” Dustin screamed this time. His voice echoed out into the hallway and downstairs, alerting the others. “Steve! Please, you gotta wake up!” He grabbed both shoulders, shaking him vigorously. “Steve!” 
Robin was the first person up the stairs despite her headache and poor coordination. The blinds were closed, and the room was gray, so she flicked on the overheads to find a man just as gray as before the lights were turned on. He was pale and his eyes were shut. His lips looked blue, and his veins were prominent beneath ghostly skin. “Steve…?” Robin didn’t scream like Dustin, but her voice cracked. She didn’t run to his side or shake him. She merely stepped out of the way as Joyce and Jonathan ran into the room. “Steve…” she couldn’t tell if she was breathing. Dreaming or having a nightmare. Awake or asleep. Dead or alive. In that moment, there was no difference. 
“Steve—get off of me!” Dustin elbowed at Jonathan, as the boy tried to pry Dustin away from his friend. “Steve! Wake up!” Robin felt tears streaming down her face, but she was confused why they were flowing. She wasn’t there. Her mind was still at Scoops. She was still watching Steve being a dingus and badly flirting with girls. She was in the backroom with him listening to a Russian code. She was tied to his back, and they were laying on the ground talking about where they would be if they became friends earlier. Steve would be in college, and Robin wouldn’t be in a Russian bunker. She was in the mall bathroom talking with him about Tammy Thompson’s bad singing voice. They were in the “Todd-father” discussing the possibilities of going to gay bars in Indianapolis. They were standing on the stairs wishing each other goodnight. They weren’t… he wasn’t… This couldn’t be happening! Steve… Steve was just here.
Dustin screamed and kicked when Murray entered the scene and picked the boy up from beneath his arms. “Let go of me! — Steve!” Dustin screamed. It was the kind of scream that vibrated the walls and shook Robin to her core. A kind of scream she’s only ever heard come out of movies. The boy was pushing at Murray’s arms, trying his best to escape and return to his friend’s side. Tears were streaming down Dustin’s face, and Robin glanced into the hallway at the sound of a thud. Max had reached the top of the stairs, having had to fight her way through a now sobbing Lucas. She was sitting on her knees with her hands covering her mouth. Robin could tell she was screaming, based on her stretched jaw and narrowed eyes, but she couldn’t hear it. Everything was suddenly muffled. Her headache from that hangover switched into a stabbing pain, and the ringing in her ears drowned everything out. “Steve!” Dustin shouted—barely heard. Murray set the boy down besides Max and blocked them both from the room. Max threw herself into Lucas’s arms. Robin looked on as Jonathan started doing chest compressions. She glanced over the balcony to see Mike with his hands cradling the back of his head, covering his ears. His hands were clenched so tightly, that Robin was sure his nails were digging into his scalp. Will was hugging Jane, who was sobbing and clinging to him, shaking her head in denial.
Joyce suddenly walked out of the room. She was gasping and choking on her own tears. “Ms. Byers…?” Robin didn’t know what she was going to say or ask. She just needed confirmation that this wasn’t real. That this was just a Russian drug-induced dream. That this was all some sick nightmare or cruel joke from the universe, and she was gonna wake up to Steve sitting at the kitchen counter with an ice pack to his swollen eye and a coffee mug in hand. “’Bout time you woke up, Buckley.” He’d say with a smile despite the split in his lip, because Steve had the best smile, and he loved to show it. He smiled in the Russian bunker and smiled through tears. He smiled in every picture no matter the context, and Robin used to say he was too happy. He’d just shrug and say, “Better than being miserable.”
“I’m so sorry, honey.” Joyce whispered instead of disproving reality. She wrapped her arms around Robin’s shoulders. It was then that the younger girl felt her knees buckle, like she was made of broken glass and poorly glued back together, and all it took was Ms. Byer’s touch to make her break once more. A scream wrenched its way from her throat, loud and painful. It vibrated the walls and left her vocal cords burning. Joyce caught her as she fell, but Robin collapsed to the ground anyway. Joyce came with her, never releasing Robin from her arms. 
Downstairs, Nancy had called 911. In Steve’s room, Jonathan was still desperately doing CPR, singing Bee Gees beneath his breath and looking at his friend through a teary, blurred vision. Jonathan didn’t tell anyone what happened until after the autopsy had shown that Steve had a broken sternum and broken ribs. Jonathan explained that he heard and felt the man’s chest crack and cave, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop. He couldn’t let Steve die. “I can’t get Stayin’ Alive out of my head…” he joked with a wet laugh, but everyone knew it wasn’t a joke. Everyone knew he now hated that song more than anything else.
It was Joyce that had read them the autopsy report. She was friends with the doctor who ran them. It was her that read from the doctor’s note that it was strange Steve died. It was that doctor who predicted that Steve had lied and hadn’t seen any of the paramedics, because even a first-day trainee would’ve seen the obvious head trauma from a mile away.
“That’s ridiculous!” Mike had scoffed, “Why would anyone refuse help from paramedics?”
“Because he didn’t want any.” Max answered. The way they talked about Steve’s death changed after that. No longer was it talking of a friend who died. They were talking about a friend who committed suicide. At least, that’s how Robin interpreted it—the change in everyone’s tone and the anger shown at the funeral. If a friend dies, they get mourned. If a friend kills themselves, especially one as important and relied upon as Steve, they get yelled at.
They had Chief Hopper’s funeral on Tuesday, Billy Hargrove’s was on Thursday, and Steve’s was on Monday. They tried to postpone Steve’s funeral until August for when his parents would be back, but, when Joyce called the Harringtons, they forwarded money and told her to go on with the funeral without them. Joyce ended up breaking that phone after giving Steve’s mother a piece of her mind, which mostly contained curse words and heavy insults. The plastic shattered in her hands after she slammed the phone on the hook repeatedly, cursing Steve’s parents and sobbing about a son that wasn’t really hers.
At Hopper’s funeral, nearly the whole town showed up. There were a lot of funerals the following weeks for a lot of Hawkins citizens, but Hopper was the chief and considered the hero of the fire, so it made sense that he had the biggest crowd to show up. It was so crowded that Robin was forced to stay in the outskirts of the pack with Erica and Lucas beside her. She ended up leaving early. She didn’t know the man that well, anyway.
Billy’s funeral wasn’t as crowded, but a few people from school showed up, including some from the old basketball and swim team. Billy’s dad left early, muttering something about “a waste.” Mrs. Wheeler was there, and she was crying, which Robin found strange. Sure, the woman could’ve been there because Nancy and Mike were, but that didn’t excuse her crying. Max was standing by the lowering casket with her arms crossed, refusing to cry, but she did. Her jaw clenched and her hands turned to fists, as if she was angry at herself for tearing up. Robin was just observant enough to notice these things, and she placed a comforting hand on the girl’s shoulder. Max leaned into her touch without a word. In fact, they didn’t speak at all that day. Robin wonders if she should’ve said something—anything—to comfort the girl more than a touch could, but Steve’s funeral was coming up. Robin couldn’t be bothered to comfort anyone past a touch. How could she when she, herself, was ripping at the seams?
Steve’s funeral had the least amount of people to show up. Tommy and Carol showed up to the ceremony, but they left before the burial. There was exactly 13 in attendance at the burial once the preacher and the graveyard men left. There was Robin, Dustin, his mom, Lucas and Erica, Mrs. Sinclair, Mike and Nancy, the Byers, Jane, and Max, who caught a ride from Lucas’s mom because her mom was working that day. 
Steve’s gravestone was tall but simple, with little flowers carved into the border and floral vases at the sides. Everyone pitched in to add to the stone what Steve’s parents weren’t willing to pay for.
Steve Harrington
April 12th, 1967 — July 5th, 1985
Beloved Friend, Hero, Babysitter
“Anyone want to say a few words?” Joyce asked once the dirt was place over their friend. The woman’s face was red, and tissues were clenched in her fists. Thinking back, Robin realized that Joyce hadn’t cried at a single funeral, not really. At Hopper’s, she teared up, but she was so busy comforting Jane that she didn’t allow herself the breakdown she probably needed. At Billy’s, she comforted Max, taking over for Robin when the older girl had to leave early. At Steve’s funeral, Joyce Byers didn’t cry, because she had to be there for the kids, but it proved difficult. The tissues in her hand had little splotches of blood from her nails digging into her palms. It took Robin a long time to figure out why Ms. Byers was torturing herself, but the answer hit her like a train. Joyce is a mom; moms can’t cry. Never in front of the kids. They keep themselves together and cry when the lights in the house are off and the work for the day is finally finished. They let their tears build up inside of them until they explode. Robin wonders if any dishes were broken in the Byers’ household that week. No one, not even Joyce Byers, could survive that long with that many bottled tears without breaking some glass.
Robin liked Joyce, but she was too busy staring down at the patch of dirt that was once her friend to really hear Ms. Byer’s question. The small crowd stayed silent when it was asked, save for a few sobs, sniffs, and gasps for air. Max stepped forward, staring down at Steve’s grave with a red face and swollen lips. “Fuck you.” She gasped through a sob. Robin was surprised she didn’t bite her bottom lip clean off when she used it as a method to stop her tears.
Max then leaned down to drop a bracelet on the grave. It’s one of those braided ones, made with string, beads, and yarn. “El and I made you this at our sleepover. We were gonna give it to you, but I didn’t have it with me at Starcourt. I-I guess it’s useless now. What kind of friend are you? Y-you fucking asshole.” She spoke only after her sobs were subsided into small cries. She wiped her eyes and looked at the rest of her friends before walking off. She went and sat at her brother’s grave, and everyone knew it wasn’t because she loved Billy more. It was because she hated people seeing her cry, so they looked away once her shoulders began to shake, and her hand flew to her mouth to deafen the sobs and gasps. Her hair was pulled over her as a curtain to hide her own disgust—her emotions. Robin leaned over to look at the bracelet. “#1 Babysitter” it read in those little lettered beads. The string was blue and yellow–Steve’s favorite colors. The colors were recently poisoned for Robin. 
Mike went up next. “I, uh, still think you’re a dumb jock, but you’re a good person. Y-you saved our lives more times than I can count. You saved my life more times than I can count. Thank you…” Mike stepped back and stared at the sky, anywhere but the ground. “I wish you were still here, so you could tell Dustin to stop being an asshole. You were always the one to keep his ego in check.” Mike laughed wetly, “He’s gonna be awful to deal with now that you’re… now that you’re gone…” Mike took another step back, like Steve’s grave was suddenly a demodog ready to pounce instead of a mound of dirt and stone. “Why’d you have to leave us, man? You were supposed to lead us—teach us about surviving high school and dealing with other dumb jocks. You—you’re a fucking jerk, you know that!?” Nancy grabbed his arm before he could storm forward. Mike leaned against his sister and turned his eyes away from Steve’s grave completely. Perhaps, he believed that, as long as he didn’t see the newly dug dirt, it wouldn’t be real. Nancy wrapped her arms around her brother, as he hid his crying face in her black dress. To Robin’s surprise, the girl owned three, and she wore a different one to each funeral. This dress was Robin’s personal favorite, as it was mostly tool with a tight waistline and a small shawl, like a 50’s prom dress. Steve would’ve liked it.
“He was supposed to teach me basketball.” Lucas spoke so quietly that Robin was sure only she heard it, as she was the only one to look his way. “We were supposed to practice all Summer, man. You still haven’t taught me how to properly do a lay-up.” He laughed until he cried, and then he laughed some more, “I promise you; I’ll get on the team. Hell, I’ll make it to varsity—the big leagues, the NBA. I don’t care if they don’t let freshmen on V; I’ll find a way. I’ll practice every day, and I’m getting your old jersey number, okay? You better come to my games. I’ll be looking out for you, got it?” he was smiling through his tears, and Robin had to look away. Lucas was always the type to put on a brave face, but Robin saw the way his smile cracked his façade. It was too forced; it was disturbing to watch. She could hear the slow transition of his laugh turning into painful sobs. She closed her eyes and waited until she heard a noise other than a sob.
Lucas dropped something on Steve’s grave, and she looked down to see his old jersey folded and placed neatly on the dirt. Lucas wiped at his eyes and glanced around at his friends. He clenched his jaw and tried to stop the tears from falling, but they wouldn’t stop. “I-I’m sorry.” he walked away to join Max, stopping at his mom to grab tissues from her purse. The mothers, besides Joyce, were sitting far away on a bench to give everyone space to say goodbye. Robin realized as she watched Lucas walk over to them, that, technically speaking, only 11 people attended Steve Harrington’s burial. They were just bystanders.
Lucas approached Max like a wild animal, but she merely patted the ground beside her. It made sense. They had matching wounds. Both lost a brother, and Robin is not including Billy in that statement.
“You saved us.” Erica spoke next. “I was so scared, and you protected us, like a knight. You’re an idiot for doing it, but you did it. And now you…” Erica furrowed her brow before reaching into her skirt’s pocket. She pulled out a My Little Pony figurine. Robin didn’t know which one it was, but it must’ve meant a lot to Erica. The girl sobbed as she placed it beside Max’s bracelet. “You better not lose this. It’s my favorite, okay?” she pointed to the grave like she was giving Steve a lecture. Robin couldn’t help but smile at the gesture.
“What pony is that?” It was Will who asked, talking for the first time since they lowered Steve's casket.
“Twilight Sparkle.” Erica answered quietly, embarrassingly. It wouldn’t be for another three months that Erica would explain why she chose Twilight Sparkle. It was when the girl had wandered into Family Video to rent The Last Unicorn. Robin asked why she chose that character, and she told the older teen that it was because Twilight was a leader who valued friendship and loyalty. Robin sobbed after Erica left the store. She sobbed so hard that she nearly threw up her lunch and had to go home early. She doesn’t know why she cried so hard. Steve talked about being forced to watch My Little Pony with Erica, so she knew that Steve knew who Twilight Sparkle is. She laughs at the thought, because he would surely insist, he was a different character, but Erica’s right. Steve was a leader. He loved his friends, and he was as loyal as a dog to its owner.
Erica and Lucas left after that, bringing Max along because she didn’t want to stay, even if she was supposed to ride home with Nancy. Nancy dropped a teddy bear and a rose off at Steve’s grave. “You’re an idiot, Steve Harrington.” She sobbed through a tight mouth. Steve used to say that Nancy would call him an idiot the same way Robin calls him a dingus. “It’s affectionate.” he said, but Nancy’s tone was dripping with venom. The girl walked away, shaking her head and clenching her fists. Mike and she left, and she peeled out of the parking lot like a bat out of hell. Anger fueled the vehicle more than gasoline, in that instance.
“When it rains, this will be destroyed, but you’re a real barbarian, Steve. Even if you don’t know what that is.” Will placed a drawing of Steve in a suit of leather armor that looked suspiciously like a Scoops Ahoy uniform. His weapon was a spiked bat, and he was smiling and looking at the sun. The next day, Robin stole that drawing to make a copy at the library’s printer. She returned the drawing the same day, but she had the copy hanging up in her room next to a polaroid Jonathan took of the ‘Scoops Troop’, as Dustin called them: Steve’s bloody yet smiling face, Erica’s tired eyes, Dustin’s bright smile, and Robin in her vomit and blood-stained uniform.
“I forgive you, Steve.” Jonathan said next. “I know I told you that a long time ago, but I don’t think you ever stopped blaming yourself for what you did. You’re not a bad person. You never were. I don’t hate you. I would never hate you. You’re… you’re my best friend.” His voice was shaking with his hands. He had nothing to give but a small photo of him, Steve, and Nancy on the Byers’ couch. Steve’s face was bloody and bruised (not from the Russians—apparently Jonathan throws a powerful punch), but he was smiling the brightest. Always the optimist, Robin supposed.
Joyce didn’t say anything. She was too busy comforting Jane, who kept trying to speak but came up short every time. The Byers and Jane left, leaving Dustin and Robin.
“I thought he was asleep…” Dustin whispered. He removed his ‘Camp Knowhere’ cap and placed it on the corner of Steve’s grave. “Sorry, it’s not Farrah Fawcett, but I don’t think they let hair spray into the afterlife.” Dustin joked. He laughed before he suddenly broke into sobs. He clenched his fists and gritted his teeth. “You…” his voice broke, and he bit his quivering lip. “I hate… I hate you so, so much, Steve.” He shook his head. “Our deal was you die, I die. Not you die, I keep on living without you. What made you think I could do this without you?! Why would you leave me like this?! All you had to do was let them look at you! They were going to get to all of us eventually! They were paramedics Steve. It was their job to help you, and you sent them away! You insisted you were fine, you, fucking asshole. Why was it so hard to let someone else take care of you for once?! Why are you such a “hero” that you couldn’t… you…” his voice cracked, “you may think that was selfless, but this is the worst thing you’ve ever done. You weren’t helping us; you fucking killed yourself, and now I’m alone, Steve! Who’s going to drive me around? Who’s going to teach me how to talk to girls and do my hair? Who–Who’s supposed to be my dad now? Did you hear that? You were my dad, Steve. You weren’t my brother. You weren’t my babysitter or mom, Steve; you were my dad, and now you’ve gone up and left me too. You should’ve—you should’ve let them look at you! How hard was it to get help, you, fucking asshole!” Robin rushed forward to stop Dustin from kicking the dirt, grabbing his arms and yanking him back. “Let go of me!” Dustin shouted, shoving Robin away.
“Dustin, this isn’t what Steve would’ve wanted— “
“Don’t tell me what he wanted!” Dustin snapped. “You knew him, for what? A few months?!” He pushed forward, gesturing to himself. “I’ve known him for years, Buckley. He saved my life more times than I can count. We have been through hell together; you don’t get to tell me what he would or wouldn’t want!” He pointed an accusing finger to Robin, who held her hands up in surrender. “You didn’t even know him.”
“Dustin, I— “
“Just forget it.” He spat. He left before Robin could say another word. She watched him storm past his mom, who offered a comforting hand, but he just ignored her and shoved his way past. He marched to her car and yanked at the door to get in. They drove off with nothing but a sparing, apologetic glance at Robin from Ms. Henderson. She smiled back and waved.  
Robin turned back to Steve’s grave and sighed. “Hey, Dingus…” she greeted with an awkward smile, “I hate wearing dresses, you know.” She looked down at the black dress her mom forced her into, as dad’s suit was just on the side of too big. She looked back up at Steve… Steve’s grave. “I tried to convince them to let me write Dingus on your grave, but they weren’t having it. They said something about insulting the dead, but they don’t understand what it means to us.” She licked her lips. “I’m surprised Tammy Thompson didn’t show up. I bet her singing would have woken you right up.” Robin snapped her fingers and began singing a “Kermit'' rendition of ‘Candle in the Wind’. She laughed and snorted, before she frowned and paused. “I should’ve woken you up. I shouldn't have let you sleep. Fuck, I—I shouldn’t have let you go alone.” She took a shuddering inhale. “I fucking hate The Fox and the Hound, Steve! You call that shit comforting? That movie’s your favorite? It’s depressing as shit, Dingus, and it makes me cry every time I watch it! A-A-And we were both scared. I should’ve forced you to sleep on the couch or-or gone with you. We should’ve been there for each other! I should’ve…” Robin interrupted herself with a gasp, like she was in pain. Then again, she was in pain. The kind of pain where there’s a stab in your chest from a knife that you can’t get out. No matter how much you claw at your skin and rip away your clothing, that knife stays. It’s not heartbreak. It’s not jealousy. It’s not rage. It’s guilt. It starts in your chest, and it spreads to the rest of your body like a slow building wildfire. And similar to a slow wildfire, you don’t notice it until the trees are all burning and there’s more smoke than clouds in the sky. “I should’ve saved you.” she glanced at the word ‘hero’ carved into his stone. “It should’ve been me.”
Robin went home after talking to Steve’s grave for another hour. She talked until the faucets in her eyes went dry and the numbness felt like a lump of burning coal in her throat. “I’m not hungry.” She muttered to her mom on the way to the bathroom. They had one bathroom in the house, but Robin didn’t give a shit. She spent nearly three hours there, staring at the mirror. Staring at her bruises. Staring at the dark circles and large, purple mark on her neck from where they pressed that needle into her skin. Staring at someone living. Someone who didn’t deserve to be.
In movies, it always rains at funerals. It didn’t rain. Of course, it didn’t. Steve hated the rain. “It ruins my hair, and it’s miserable and gray.” Instead, it was a cloudless day and hotter than the fireworks that burned the Mind Flayer. Robin was left sweating in her funeral outfit, so she got into the shower sometime during hour two of crying. She sat down in the tub instead of standing and cried with the water. Turns out, she hadn’t run dry, she just ran out of excuses to cry at Steve’s grave instead of going home where her parents would do nothing but pity her and care for her. She didn’t want pity; she wanted Steve. “I wish you were here, Steve.” She whimpered, calling out to her lost friend.
Her friend, who was sitting outside the bathroom door. Steve, who was still in his Scoops uniform and wishing he changed his clothes before he went to sleep. Steve, who had his elbows resting on either knee as he held his head in his hands. Steve, who was sobbing and crying along with Robin. “I’m right here…” he repeated. He lost how many times he had said the sentiment, but he was sure it was in the thousands by now.
“I’m right here.”
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