Dustin stared down at the photograph in his hands. It had been torn in half at one point and taped back together, edges frayed and sticky from when someone had spilled something on it. They had taken it at Fox Way before everything had turned to shit. Some Christmas celebration with all of them smiling. Happy. With all of them alive. Mike’s face was the hardest to look at, all Dustin had of his friend was this photograph and a bunch of memories that were full of even more shit, pushing past the ones when things had been normal, when their greatest worries had been passing tests or planning D&D sessions.
Not that it was any easier to look at the others. They were nearly as weathered as the photo, the insanity of constant war draining them in ways that dealing with Vecna had only scratched the surface. At first he’d tried to keep up some degree of optimism. Looked at the photo and believed that they would get back to this, that they’d be happy again. There were happy moments.
But Mike was dead and there were some scars that could never really be healed.
He stared down at the pieces spread out before him and put the photo back down. He had shit to do, weapons to make so that maybe the next person who was out in the woods wouldn’t get killed. Or at least would take out as many of those Vorerra fuckers as they could manage.
This was not the future that Eddie had always envisioned. For one, he’d seen a glimpse of his future with Steve. A future with children, who were happy and relatively well-adjusted. He didn’t know much of what that future had entailed, hadn’t wanted to ask, hadn’t been sure that his future daughters would have told him even if he had, but he knew it wasn’t like this.
Things sucked. Things sucked a lot. He missed Mike, couldn’t think of him without feeling a pang in his heart. He knew he couldn’t have done things much different. He wasn’t a fighter, wasn’t much of a strategizer. He could play guitar, and did, often, because people needed music in their lives or what was the point? But he wasn’t much good on the practical side of things.
And he could be there for his friends. He glanced in at Dustin from the doorway, watched him for a moment, but Dustin didn’t seem to notice him, intent as he was at whatever it was he was looking at. Eddie thought he knew, stepped a little closer to get a look at it, and saw that he was right.
“Hey, big guy,” he said. “Katou found an old stash of hot chocolate mix while he was out on patrol today,” Eddie said, placing one of the chipped mugs in his hands down on the table in front of Dustin. “It tastes a little stale, but it’s not too bad. Grabbed you a cup.”
That was probably the worst part of everything. They had glimpsed what the world was supposed to be like, but Dustin had no clue how any of that was going to pan out now. It felt impossible and nothing lined up at all with the hints that had been dropped here and there. He was pretty certain that kids that were supposed to have been born or found by that point didn’t exist. Maybe if they could determine the precise point on the timeline where things had gotten fucked up they could reverse it. Somehow. It was probably a bunch of points though, which made everything even more difficult.
Dustin pushed back from the parts and grinned up at Eddie. It was time for a break. He’d been getting too into his head and that never went well nowadays. Plus he knew better than to take any moment for granted now. There was no guarantee for a tomorrow, no matter how much they all wanted one.
“Any chocolate is good chocolate.” He held the mug up to clink against Eddie’s. “You got a new playlist ready to go for everyone later?” Something to bring a smile to people’s faces when they had potato soup. Again.
“Pretty close. Making a good playlist in the apocalypse is harder than you might think,” Eddie answered, and he wasn’t entirely kidding despite the levity in his voice. You didn’t want anything too depressing, or anything upbeat enough that would make people want to kill you. Angry was Eddie’s usual go to, but people tended to complain if there was too much metal on his playlists. “I’ve been working on a new acoustic set too. I’ll probably have that done in the next few days. I’ll give you a sneak peak tonight if you want.” He took a sip of his hot cocoa. “How’s your project coming along?”
That made sense. Who knew what might trigger anyone with everything that had happened. A song could have been a favorite of someone who died. “I’m down for a listening session.” Dustin didn’t really do the jam ones. He liked listening to music, but left playing it to Eddie. The expert.
Dustin nodded toward the mess of parts and tools spread out before him. “I think I've got everything I need to get us some bombs with a better time delay.” The last thing they wanted to do was blow one another up. “It was hit or miss with some, but the last patrol managed to scavenge some more pieces.”
“What would we do without those patrols?” Eddie asked, managing a grin and taking another sip of his hot chocolate, before putting the mug down on the table. He reached out to squeeze Dustin’s shoulder. “Or you engineers. You’re doing really good work, Dustin. Are you… are you doing okay?”
What was the definition of okay anymore? It clearly wasn’t what it had been a couple years ago. Same thing back home though. What Dustin considered okay pre-Upside Down was definitely not the same as post-UD. He’d managed to sleep at least three nights without endless nightmares so…that seemed pretty good. “It helps having something to focus on.” Dustin smiled up at Eddie. Not as big as he used to but it was genuine. “You?”
Eddie thought about it. “No,” he said after a moment. “No, I’m not alright. I don’t think any of us are alright.”
He thought the last time anything had been alright had been when he and Steve had gotten married. A little spot of light amidst all the dark. When he’d been up at the altar with Steve, and Robin, and Dustin and Mike.
“I think about him all the time too.”
Mike.
Dustin didn’t want to think about him right then. He had work to do and couldn’t complete it when he was thinking about his friend. There would be tears and those clouded his vision, brought everything to a standstill. These weapons needed to be put together. Especially with Vorerra idiots having been spotted in a few places. He wanted the patrols to get every last one of them for what they did to Mike. They couldn’t do that without weapons and he couldn’t work on them if he was thinking about his friend.
He couldn’t not think about Mike once his name was brought up. Everything they’d done, the hole his death had left inside him.
“Yeah.”
It was all Dustin could manage.
Eddie hesitated for a moment, then pulled Dustin into a hug. “You know, it’s alright to talk about these things sometimes,” he said gently. He knew that Dustin preferred to work. Eddie knew the importance of that, of having something to keep you busy so you didn’t dwell on things. But he wasn’t sure how healthy that was. Ignoring your feelings, repressing them, always putting them last on your list of priorities. If he hadn’t had Steve to talk to, he’d have gone insane.
“You can talk to me, you know?”
“I know.”
Now wasn’t the time for talking about feelings. Not when he had a task to do. Dustin knew Eddie probably wouldn’t see it that way, but it was the only way Dustin was able to function in all of this anymore. Figure out the problem, come up with a way to try and fix it. Mix and repeat. Over and over until they got something right.
He did hug Eddie back though, leaning into it and taking a much needed breath. “I do, but I really want to get this done.” Dustin gestured to the pieces. “Vorerra’s been spotted and they deserve what they get.”
Eddie pursed his lips together, and then let out a raspberry of a breath. He knew better than to push him, but he wished there was more that he could do. “Alright,” he said after a moment. “Give ‘em Hell, Dusty, and then come by my room after and I’ll play you some stuff.”
Because hell, even if he didn’t want to talk, music healed most wounds. At least, Eddie liked to believe it did.
It helped to have plans for the future, even if that future was only an hour or so away. Nothing was guaranteed but it gave Dustin something to look forward to, to hold onto. “I’ll stop by,” he promised, holding out a hand to bump into Eddie’s.
Eddie bumped his knuckles against Dustin’s. “Alright. Don’t work too hard and be careful,” he said, not even minding how much like a Dad he sounded. “I’ll see if me and Steve can scrounge up something decent for dinner, too. Love you, Henderson.”