A/N: Content Warnings: Fear, Language, Disturbing Content, Death.

As a heads up, I rearranged the order of a few scenes in the beginning. The show never explicitly states that they happen at different times, so I interpreted them as being somewhat simultaneous occurrences and switched the order of which they are shown.

Steve sat atop the trunk of his car in the parking lot of Fair Mart convenience store, waiting with Carol as Tommy retrieved medicine from inside. How had he gotten here? Obviously, Byers had beaten the shit out of him. Not like he didn't deserve it. When he and Tommy had managed to evade the police, he had doubled back to get his BMW before picking Carol up on the way to lick his wounds.

And now he couldn't stop thinking about the morning's events. He couldn't figure out how he felt. Tommy and Carol had defended him, and they always stuck by him, but he couldn't help but think that they were a large reason he was in this mess in the first place. Sure, when Tommy and Carol had told him about the plan to graffiti the Hawk and humiliate Nancy, a part of him had been on board. His heart had been ripped out and crushed, so a little revenge sounded great. But when he watched Tommy actually doing it, a small part of him felt guilty.

Wrong.

Steve ran his tongue over his swollen lip and tasted blood. Maybe he deserved to feel wrong. Nancy may have done something horrible to him, but he still cared about her. And yeah, he could be mean, and egotistical, and petty, but he wasn't a spiteful person. At least he didn't think he was. But sometimes he didn't know anymore. The older he got, the longer he hung around Tommy and Carol… the more he felt like King Steve was becoming the real Steve.

When Nancy had cornered them in the alley, he had lost control. The pain of seeing her face, remembering what she had done, caused him to snap. And he had said some horrible things. Things he regretted. Things that left him feeling like his soul was being pulled in two directions.

Tommy and Carol were his best friends. But were they really? Yeah, they were loyal and they stood by him, but they also brought out the absolute worst in him - something they'd been doing since eight grade.

The sound of Tommy's footsteps pulled Steve out of his moping. He turned just in time to catch the bottle of pain relievers his friend tossed his way. Tommy waited for him to catch them before holding a cold can of soda out toward him.

"Hey. You owe me a dollar twenty," the freckled teen joked. Steve ignored his friend and popped a few of the pills as Tommy added, "Don't worry, he'll need more than aspirin when we're done with him."

He didn't want to think about Byers anymore. He just wanted to stop the aching of his face and his chest. Closing his eyes, he slowly brought the Coca-Cola up to his swollen lid and pressed it gently on the bloody wound. The sensation of the cold can caused him to reflexively groan, but it was a welcome relief.

"Yeah, if the creep ever gets out." Carol shook her head and sighed. "The cops should just lock him up forever. Did you see the look on his face?" Steve glanced over to see her try her best at a grotesque imitation of Byers, repeatedly pretending to punch Tommy.

"He probably had that same look whenever he killed his brother, right?" Tommy chuckled at her and lightly patted Steve's arm.

Was this who he was now? A heartless jerk? Someone who laughed about dead kids? Steve looked down and clenched his jaw as his friends continued their misguided attempt at cheering him up.

"Oh, God, I just got an image of him making that face while he and Nancy are screwing." Carol forced a gag before she and Tommy began to cackle harder.

Steve couldn't stand it. He pulled the can away from his head and turned a fiery glare on his friend. "Carol, for once in your life, shut your damn mouth!"

"What?" Carol froze and blinked at him in shock.

"Hey, what's your problem, man?" Tommy asked, frowning and furrowing his brow.

They were his problem! He was his problem. He didn't want to be King Steve anymore. "You're both assholes," Steve spat, lowering the can away from his face once more. "That's my problem."

"Are you serious right now, man?"

"Yeah, I'm serious." He hopped down from his car and shoved past Tommy, walking to his driver's side door. "You shouldn't have done that."

"Done what?" Tommy replied, seemingly lost.

Steve turned back, locking eyes with his friend. "You know what."

"You mean call her out for what she really is?" Tommy stepped forward, invading his personal space with a sneer. "Oh, that's funny, because I don't remember you asking me to stop."

He hadn't. And right now that was what bothered him the most. He had stood by and watched as his so-called friends humiliated the girl he liked. What a leader he was, right?

"I should've put that spray paint right down your throat," Steve muttered. They weren't his friends. Friends didn't make somebody feel the way he felt. They didn't make somebody hate themselves.

The betrayal on Carol's face echoed the one on her boyfriends as she too stepped forward to ask, "What the hell, Steve?" But of course she wouldn't get it. Neither of them ever would.

"You know, neither of you ever cared about her," Steve began to vomit the words that had been troubling his mind for a long time, looking between the pair. "You never even liked her, because she's not miserable like you two. She actually cares about other people." It was easier for him to make his anger about Nancy. He had always struggled to voice his own inner feelings.

"The slut with a heart of gold," Carol replied bitterly.

Steve felt his anger rise again and he brought his arm forward to point at her. "I told you to watch your mouth!"

"Hey!" Tommy shoved him against his car, holding a finger up in front of his face. "I don't know what's gotten into you, man, but you don't talk to her that way."

He was done taking any orders or suggestions from these assholes. Steve pushed the freckled teen away from him. "Get out of my face."

"Or what?" Tommy grabbed the collar of his shirt and shoved him back against the car again, holding him there. "Or what? You gonna fight me now, too? Huh?" Steve grunted and struggled unsuccessfully to break free from Tommy's grip. Their friendship was over. To hell with what his parents wanted. Tommy leaned closer and whispered, "Because you couldn't take Jonathan Byers...so I wouldn't recommend that."

The freckled teen kept his eyes locked on Steve as he released him. Steve returned the look with a bitter one of his own, communicating all of the resentment and hatred he had built up over the years toward Tommy and Carol before opening the driver's side door of his car. Tommy moved forward and shoved him as he climbed in.

"Here, let me get the door for you, buddy." His former friend slammed the door shut, causing it to collide roughly against his shoulder. The engine started up and Steve began to back out of his parking spot as Tommy hit the car. "That's right! Run away, Stevie boy! Run away!" The freckled teen beat on the trunk as he followed behind him. "Just like you always do! That Nancy's turning you into a little pussy!"

Steve fully intended to peel out of the parking lot, as evident by the screeching of his wheels on the asphalt. But he didn't make it out of the parking lot. He didn't even make it fifteen feet. Instead, he had to slam on his breaks to avoid hitting someone.

"What in the fuck?!" Steve narrowly avoided turning the person into roadkill, managing to bring his BMW to an abrupt stop less than six inches away from them.

His day just kept getting worse and worse. He groaned as both he and his former friends turned their attention to the newcomer. The blond stood there at the exit of the parking lot, breathing heavily like he had just ran a marathon and gazing at Steve through the windshield. Steve quickly began to grow uncomfortable under the boy's intense stare. Staying true to the way things had been going all week, Valentin Pierrot had shown up when the going got tough. Like he had some weird sixth sense or something.

"What the hell do you want, Boy George?" Tommy asked, stomping closer to Pierrot with clenched fists.

"Oh my god, he totally is dressed like Boy George!" Carol cackled hysterically from her spot underneath the store's awning. "That's just tragic!"

His former friends weren't wrong, he realized as he examined the other boy's outfit. From the bowler hat to the sneakers it was very Karma Chameleon. Steve turned his head, watching Tommy approach the blond. He should probably get out and stop him. Pierrot was maybe 5'7", 5'8" tops, and had way less muscle mass then either he or Tommy did. If Tommy reached him, he knew the freckled teen would flatten the guy like a pancake.

Throwing the door open, Steve stepped out, preparing for his second fight of the day. Instead, he stopped and stared with wide eyes. Tommy had started to raise his fist before suddenly freezing, a blank expression passing over his face.

"Tommy?" Carol called, mutually confused by her boyfriend's sudden stillness.

It was like someone had removed the freckled teen's batteries. Steve examined at his former friend in disbelief before turning to inspect his almost victim. Tommy was intimated by this guy? Sure, the blond was a bit strange, but he wasn't exactly what he would describe as threatening.

Definitely creepy though. Pierrot was staring directly at at Tommy, so intently that he wasn't even blinking. Steve turned back to the freckled teen, waving his hand in front of his vacant eyes. Tommy didn't react or acknowledge him in any way, he only continued to stand frozen like a statue. Pierrot slowly walked around the passenger side of Steve's car, pulling open the door and lowering himself into the seat.

"Uh..." Steve started to talk, pinching his brows at his new passenger through the open driver's door. He hadn't asked for the blond to join him. What the hell was he doing?

"I have been looking for you," was the answer Pierrot gave to his unspoken question. "I strongly suggest that return to the car and drive."

Steve didn't know why he did it, but he slid back into the driver's seat, shut the door, and pressed his foot on the gas pedal. They sped out into the street, leaving a trail of smoke in their wake. His eyes flickered up to the rearview mirror, looking at the reflection of Tommy's petrified form. Maybe his brain had broken?

Carol cautiously approached her boyfriend, lifting a hand to poke him in the cheek. No sooner had her finger made contact did Tommy flinching, blinking rapidly and turning to look at her with an alarmed expression.

"What happened?" Tommy asked a speechless Carol. "Where did they go?"

Part Seven: The Bathtub

Mike raised the washcloth in his hand and gently wiped the dirt from Eleven's face. He sighed when she failed to respond, the girl only staring at him silently. "That's better," he told her once her face was clean. They had finally made it back to his house after the incident at Sattler's Quarry. And he couldn't have been more grateful for her return. Granted, she had saved him from death via cliff jumping but regardless, it was good to have her back.

Eleven peered at him for a moment before turning to the mirror of the bathroom sink to view her reflection. He watched her run her hand over her buzzed hair, a look of sadness on her face. She must be missing the wig.

"You don't need it," Mike said to her.

"Still pretty?" Eleven asked, sounding as though she didn't quite believe him.

"Yeah!" Mike nodded. "Pretty. Really pretty." He knew girls were very sensitive about their looks. Figures that even strange girls with psychic powers were no different. Glancing back at her reflection, a small smile formed on Eleven's face. Like him saying that had made her happier. "El?"

She turned back to him, still smiling faintly. "Yes?"

"Um, I'm happy you're home."

"Me, too," Eleven replied, smile growing bigger.

El was part of the Party now. Just like him. Just like Will. Somewhat unaware of what he wanted to do or say, Mike leaned closer to Eleven, his heart thumping madly in his chest the same way it had on the train tracks the day before. Butterflies fluttered in his stomach. Like when he had stood on that cliff working up the courage to jump. His eyes were drawn to her lips, and Eleven watched him closely, moving toward him. The door abruptly burst open, causing both Mike and El to leap back from one another.

"Guys!" Dustin sounded urgent. "It's Lucas, I think he's in trouble." They followed him at a run out of the basement bathroom, Dustin picking up Mike's Supercomm. "Do you remember how he said he was looking for the gate?"

"Yeah…" Mike glanced hesitantly at the radio with El.

"What if he found it?"

Lucas' voice came over the radio, but it was garbled and broken. Mike reached forward to grab the device and hold it closer to his head, attempting to understand. But it was no use. "What's he saying?"

Dustin was just as lost as he was. "I don't know, he's way out of range."

The broken voice responded again, this time getting clearer. "...son of a bitch!"

Son of a bitch? Was Lucas still mad at him? "Lucas, if you can hear us, slow down. We can't understand you," Mike replied over the radio.

"Yes! I copy! Do you? They... about Eleven! Get out of ... They know... Eleven! The ... hen are coming! All of them! Do you hear... The mad... are coming!"

"'Mad hen'. Does that mean anything to you?" Dustin asked Mike. "Like a code name or something?" Mike held his hand up to quiet his friend as he tried to interpret the meaning the words Lucas was still shouting.

"The bad men are coming!" Lucas' suddenly clear voice screamed out.

"'Bad men'… Bad men!" Mike repeated, chest tightening. He gasped and set the radio on the table before motioning to Eleven. "Stay here!" He spun and dashed up to the first floor landing, Dustin close behind him. The pair ran to the living room and Mike pulled aside the curtain from the window overlooking the street. He noticed a mustached man sitting in the driver's seat of a Hawkins Power and Light van with a clear view of his house.

"What's that guy doing?" Mike wondered out loud. He was fairly sure there hadn't been any power issues since the previous Sunday.

"You don't think…" Dustin started to say. Mike gave him a look then darted away into the kitchen.

He found his mother talking to someone on the phone, her back turned to him, "Well, I know she and Steve have been spending some time together, so I thought maybe-"

"Mom!" Mike interrupted.

Karen turned and flashed him a look of disapproval. "Well, i-is he home? Maybe you could ask him?" She asked, ignoring him.

"Mom!" Mike shouted this time, growing more desperate as the seconds ticked by.

"I'm sorry, could you just hold on, please?" Karen spun around, using her hand to block the mouthpiece. "Michael, I'm on the phone. I've told you a million times-"

"Did you schedule any repairs?"

"What?"

"Is there anyone supposed to come and do repairs on the house?"

"I don't understand," his mom frowned. "Is there something wrong-"

"No, Mom, nothing's wrong in the house," Mike cut her off again and shook his head. They didn't have time for dumb questions! Could she just stop interrupting and listen?

"Mike!" Dustin said as he entered the kitchen.

Mike held up his index finger toward his curly-haired friend. "One second."

"Mike!" Dustin bellowed this time, making him jump. "We need to leave…right...now." With a glance at his mother, Mike took off after Dustin toward the basement door.

"Michael!" Karen yelled after him.

Mike skidded to a stop at the door, turning back to her with his hand on the wall. "If anyone asks where I am, I've left the country."

"What?"

Ignoring the question, he sprinted down the basement steps. They didn't have to tell El what was going on, she recognized the gravity of the situation on their faces. Seconds later the three friends fled from the basement and out the back door. Mike and Dustin gathered up their bikes and ran up the hill beside the house. Once at the top they jumped onto their seats, Eleven getting on behind Mike. He and Eleven turned to look down the street where several men wearing blue jumpsuits and brown utility belts stood.

He could tell who the leader was the moment he saw him. A tall, older, white-haired man, wearing a dark suit and trench coat. The man met their gaze, an expression of recognition passing over his face.

"Go, go, go, go, go, go, go, go, go!" Dustin cried. He didn't have to tell Mike twice, the pair pedaling away as fast as they could. Eleven clutched Mike's shoulders tight, giving him something to focus on other than the sound of screeching tires behind them.

"You can't just invite yourself into someone's car, you know? Especially when you don't even know them."

"My apologies," the soft voice replied. His passenger uttered no more words, leaving Steve to drive in silence for a few more moments - one of his least favorite things. He took the opportunity to glance over at the other boy, seeing that the blond was looking out the side window and watching the world pass by.

A loud frustrated sigh broke through Steve's lips. The situation was super awkward and the silence was not helping. Deciding that he didn't want to drive listening to the sound of his own blood rushing through his head, he used his right hand to reach over and fiddle with the radio, keeping his left hand steady on the wheel. He smiled at the familiar notes of a song he loved. 'Space Oddity' by David Bowie had just started and music filled the car, chasing away the uncomfortable quiet.

"Ground Control to Major Tom. Commencing countdown, engines on," Steve began to sing along to the radio. He caught movement in the corner of his eye, turning to see his unwelcome guest staring at him. He chuckled, because it made total sense. "You a big fan of Bowie, I take it?"

"I do not know who that is."

"What?!" Steve reacted so aggressively that the car swerved momentarily into the oncoming lane. He corrected the vehicle, flashing wide-eyed looks at the blond. Did the guy live under a rock? He didn't think there was a person alive who wasn't aware of the great David Bowie. "He's only one of the biggest legends in music, man!"

"Music…" The other boy's voice was so faint he almost couldn't hear it. Like Pierrot had been speaking to himself. It reminded Steve of how he would talk to himself when trying to learn a new word in English class.

He continued to look back and forth between the almost complete stranger in his car and the road. Before he could continue voicing his concern about the boy's lack of musical taste, Pierrot began to shift his eye's around his face. Studying Steve's face would be a more correct description. His brows pinched together and he shifted awkwardly under the gaze.

"Steven, your face looks-" The boy began to say.

"It's Steve, Not Steven!" Steve irritably replied. "Only my father calls me Steven." He hated when people said his full first name like that. It made his skin crawl. And also, duh, he knew what his face looked like, he was there when Byers used it as a punching bag.

"My apologies."

Steve let out a humorless laugh. It was like the guy only talked to him to poke fun at him or to twist his brain in a knot. "And I am sure you are just so concerned about my face," he said with heavy sarcasm.

"I am very concerned," The other boy blinked, still examining his injuries. "Your wounds may become infected without proper treatment."

"Ha ha. Very funny." He wasn't in the mood to be made fun of. Not after the morning he'd had. He turned back to his passenger with the intention of telling the blond off, but stopped when he noticed that the other boy was completely serious.

"Wait. Wait. You're not joking?" He asked, jaw dropping. "You're serious?"

"Quite," Pierrot nodded his head. "I do not tell jokes."

"B-but…" There went that whole twisting his brain into a knot thing. Steve's voice rose as he pushed through the stutter. "Why do you care?!" He didn't even know the guy!

"I want you to be my friend."

Steve choked and started to cough. Pierrot said it like he was ordering something in a drive-through. Like it was the most casual thing to say in the world. Like it was no big deal. "H-hey! Hey!" Despite the a pounding in his ears, he managed to find his voice again. "You can't just say shit like that!"

Who talked like that? Who just walked up to complete strangers and said 'Hey, let's be friends' like it wasn't weird.

"My apologies," The strange boy replied again, frowning now.

"Why would you want to be my friend anyway?" Steve asked. They had never even spoken prior to that week, unless one counted that time four years prior when he had tried to talk to Pierrot and the guy had just walked away. Steve didn't count that time, for the record.

"I have carefully considered the options," the boy, sitting comfortably in the car like he hadn't just invited himself into it five minutes earlier, explained, "and I have faith that you will yield the best results."

Steve let out another frustrated sigh. He would yield the best results? What the hell did that mean? "You know, can't you just talk normal for once?" Couldn't the guy just be normal for once?

"My apologies," the monotonous voice said yet again.

"Stop!" Steve glared at the road ahead of him, squeezing the steering wheel tighter as heat spread through his face. "Just… just stop apologizing!" Every five seconds the strange guy apologized. Of everything Pierrot had said over the week, he was pretty sure 'my apologies' had made up at least half.

"I am trying," The blond replied, very quiet again. Steve glanced back at the passenger seat, seeing that Pierrot's expression was now a puzzled one. "I want to learn to be normal. I do not want to be alone anymore."

As if he had taken a punch to the gut, Steve felt the anger leave his body. The response was so… vulnerable. Like a kid, looking for approval. And he could relate. In hindsight, that was why he had always stuck with Tommy and Carol, despite how much they changed through the years. He hadn't wanted to be alone either. So he had changed with them.

Steve spared a few looks at the other boy, seeing Pierrot turn back to face the front. The strange teen seemed almost sad, and disappointed. But not with him, with himself. Like he was disappointed in his own attempt to make a friend. Like he was sad he had no friends. That made him think hard for a moment. As of late, nothing had been making sense. He had gradually become a massive jerk, no thanks to his former pals. He had hurt the girl he liked, and yeah, he had just been a massive jerk.

A grade-A asshole, just like his dad.

Now he sat with a strange boy in his car, having no friends, no girl, and no dignity. But the boy wanted to be his friend anyway. Steve suddenly felt like cold water had been dumped on him. The other boy had been trying, in his own strange way, to be his friend for the past few days. When he had been troubled about his life, the boy had offered advice.

Albeit weird and vague advice, but advice nonetheless.

Even when Steve had been a huge prick and tried to break Byers' camera, the guy intervened and saved him a night of even worse regret. And now, when he had humiliated a nice girl over an apparent misunderstanding and started a fight with the grieving brother of a dead kid, the same boy had hunted him down out of concern. And Steve was not being very nice to him. He hadn't been nice to him all week. He had stood by while Tommy had bullied Pierrot for four years.

And yet, the guy wanted to be his friend.

A boy who had not spoken to anyone in all the time he had been in Hawkins. Who acted like he didn't know anything about interacting with people because he didn't know anything about interacting with people. Pierrot hadn't ever interacted with people to know anything in the first place. Still, the blond had kept interacting with him. That had to count for something, right? So if he didn't want to be alone, and this guy didn't want to be alone…

Why be alone?

"All right. Yeah. Yeah. Sure, man!" Steve felt excitement rush through body as he made his decision. What could it hurt? Better to have one friend than to have none, after all. "Let's be friends!" He kind of felt like a kid again, letting out a laugh and extending his right hand over to where Pierrot - No, to where Valentin sat in his passenger seat.

He was Valentin's first friend. Somebody who hadn't ever given anyone a chance wanted him to be his first friend! How badass was that?

Valentin hesitated for a moment, clearly not trusting others very much, before gripping his hand with more strength then Steve had expected, given his dainty physique. He turned and locked eyes with Valentin, seeing an expression that he could only describe as satisfaction on his face. That look was truthfully a welcome departure from the creepy blank stare the blond wore all the time.

Suddenly, the grip on Steve's hand tightened to an uncomfortable level. Valentin's eyes became slightly glassy and his expression was replaced by something else, one he couldn't place. Did he have motion sickness or something?

"Steve." Valentin's voice was no longer soft. " I need you to drive us to Elm and Cherry as fast as you are able."

"Uh-" He flashed Valentin an incredulous look, removing his hand and placing it back on the steering wheel. "Come again?" They weren't exactly far from that location but the demand had been very out of the blue.

"As my friend, Steve." Well, Valentin had a point now. He had just agreed to that. "Please."

Not even a full minute into friendship and suddenly the guy was making demands. Steve chuckled as he thought about it. But once again, and he had no idea why, he listened. He pushed down the gas pedal and made a sudden u-turn before swerving down a nearby street. He had a feeling that this new friendship would be anything but boring.

The two new friends sped off down the road in his BMW, burning rubber, as Steve sang along to the end of the song. "Planet Earth is blue, and there's nothing I can do."

A/N: Steve heavy chapter, yay! We will get a good deal more of Steve for the rest of the story too. I decided to split the chase up between this chapter and the next so this one didn't get too bloated.

The outfit Valentin put on is a replica of a photo of Boy George I saw one day. A google search of his name and fashion should show it. Also, for those wondering about the spelling of his name, Valentin with no e is how the French spell the masculine form of the name Valentine, pronounced the same way.

Until our stars next align!