Chapter Text
They had started to say that Hawkins was cursed. They weren’t far from the truth.
The electricity had finally stopped working; Steve stood in front of the open refrigerator watching mindlessly as the light flickered, and at last gave out with one final splutter.
Main room lights are always turned off now. No use advertising that the house was occupied. He already knew the layout like the back of his hand and had no problem moving around in the dark.
Inside the dark fridge, all that remained was a cucumber which was now soggy and the final three coke cans he grabbed and set on the counter. Without closing the fridge door - no point now, nothing to keep cool and no power to cool it - he leaned against the kitchen island counter. His folks had a hired chef who often came to cook for them, they rarely had family meals together.
He was running out of food. His parents had kept more wine down in the wine cellar than non-perishable food in their house.
In their defense, no one had expected a deadly virus to wipe out more than half of the Hawkins population. Likely more now, as they had stopped counting the numbers three weeks ago. Two weeks ago the TV and radio stopped receiving signals. Today, the last of the electricity blew.
“Steve?” Robin’s voice was soft as she padded around the corner, barefoot in a pair of his sweatpants and shirt. He could see her looking at his blank expression, mirrored in her own eyes ever since he picked her up outside her tiny house in the west of Hawkins. He’ll never forget her red rimmed eyes, the tremor to her hands. She wasn’t crying anymore, just sitting on the porch steps and looking out to the middle distance. She’d barely brought much of her own possessions with her, and he honestly did not have it in him to go through his mother’s clothes to offer her.
In winter, the ground had been too solid to dig any graves. Together, they had pulled the bedsheets over her parents bodies, tangled together and wrecked from the fever. Even now, Steve still finds himself examining Robin, checking to make sure her veins were not turning black - although by then it’s already too late.
He smiled, quickly, but knew it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “We’re out of food. Electricity’s gone now. These,” he handed her one of the cokes, “are the last of our reserves. Cheers.”
“Slàinte!” Robin smacked her can against his and cracked it open. This time, his smile was genuine.
They sipped, leaning against each other until Robin sighed pragmatically.
“All right then, genius. What’s the plan now? We can’t hide out in your parents house forever.”
“We sure can.” Mostly because he had not, in fact, thought any further ahead after his cold drink. “There’s got to be a hundred bottles of vintage wine downstairs.”
“I hate this house. It’s too big and it’s creepy.”
She did have a point. His parents had designed it not for a family to live in, but to show off their wealth and taste. Personally, he wasn’t sure that retro futurism was the best design choice for your family home, but each to their own. The largely white, minimalistic style and architecture of the house still creeped him out sometimes and he was mostly used to it. There was no personality here; no family photos on the walls; no pencil marking his height in doorways. It looked like a show house.
“We should check in on Henderson again, today,” Steve changed the subject, not wanting to commit to long term plans.
Robin scrunched her nose, chewing on some loose skin. “I am worried about Mrs Henderson. I swear she was acting funny the last time we checked in.”
“No, she just acts like that all the time.”
She nudged him - not lightly, mind you - with her elbow. “I’m serious, Steve!”
“Alright, alright,” he raised his hands up in mock surrender. He did agree with her, actually. They had last checked in with Dustin three days ago, his mother forcing them to keep their distance and stand in the driveway. She’d looked flustered, a sheen of sweat on her forehead.
If Steve had gotten his own way, Dustin would have been staying with him, Robin and Max from the get go. But he had no right to take him away from his mother, even if he would do a better job of keeping Dustin safe.
Instead, he had done the rounds of the remaining kids. As much as he complained about babysitting, he felt this deep responsibility for them all. He knew they relied on him. Needed him.
Mike was out in California visiting Eleven and Will, having flown out along with Lucas and his family. The original plan had been for the entire gang of kids to get out to California over winter break - Mike’s family sent him alone, not much interested in a family holiday, Lucas could only go if it was part of a family vacation out west. Lucas wasn’t entirely delighted by this at the time, but Steve was glad knowing that Erica was safe there with them. Dustin’s mother hadn’t allowed him to fly so far on his own without her and Max’s mother simply could not afford to send her.
Steve had spent a lot of time with Dustin and Max sitting behind the counter at Family Video, pestering him to put on a certain movie or reading comics together. Although he’d complain along with Robin, he really did like having them around.
“Max!” Robin was moving away from him, towards the living room they had set up as a sort of fort. Mattresses pulled down from the spare bedrooms along with all of the bedding. She tossed the final can of coke over the top of the sofa.
Max’s head popped up from the sofa, brows furrowed as she pulled her earphones off of her head. Her stare went right through Steve. God, she was scary.
“Let’s go, kid. We’re going to see Dustin.”