The weather never seemed to abide by the rules when it came to how people felt, Christine Wheeler finding it rather damning that it was sunny and 85 on the day of Billy Hargroves funeral. Jim Hoppers candlelight vigil in the town square had been a particularly humid night as well, and Christine had only stayed for about twenty minutes before she saw Joyce and had to go home.

An unspeakable sorrow had fallen over the group that knew what happened, the group that knew the truth behind every senseless death, and everything that the normal media couldn't explain. It was hard knowing the truth, and not being able to say anything. Christine had avoided going to funerals of the deceased, the ones with no body to bury and no real cause of death, the entire thing covered by the guise of a mall fire.

But today was not like the other days and the other funerals. Today was a bad day.  Today was on of the worst. Although Billy was far from a good person, it was easy to find someplace in Christines heart to mourn for him, and to feel empathy for Max. Max was a strong girl, one of many words and a very stubborn attitude that had  diminished over the week since her brothers death. This was hard for her, no matter how little she showed it.

On the eve of Billy Hargroves funeral, one that Steve Harrington had not planned on attending, he got a call from Christine Wheeler. The days following their love confessions had gone pretty bleakly, no big romantic scene or movie moment that would make history books and shift planets. No, there had just been a lull in activity between the two, Steve's first time hearing from her since she left the hospital being the phone call five days later.  In the phone call Christine asked Steve if he would go with her to the funeral, to support Max, to pay her respects, to show the kids that although there was a morality issue in Billy Hargrove, he was still more deserving than what he got. And he still sacrificed himself for them.  While Steve agreed to her request he couldn't help but feel like maybe he shouldn't go even still, because Billy Hargrove meant more to him in death than he did in life, and he found that rather damning in its own right.

Christine Wheeler pulled the skirt of her dress down, wincing in pain at having to lift up her arms. She looked up at herself in the mirror, her frown permanently glued to her lips as she looked over her face. She was cleaner that she had been the last time she had looked in the mirror, but she looked dull and swallowed whole in her black dress. Christine lifted her fingers slowly to her face, the tips running over her healing lip, the scab on her chin and the bruise that was adorning her cheek and eye. She looked worse for wear, but somehow better than she had days prior. She could feel the fabric from her rib belt under her dress, the itchy material giving her a constant reminder along with the pain. Her eyes were a little puffy, and she didn't have much color to her face, she felt drained.

In finding out that Jim Hopper died, her impromptu father figure and one of the best men she knew, Christine Wheeler put on her bravest face, and held it together for El. But behind closed doors it was a different story. Death effected many people, whether you realized it did or not, and Christine Wheeler felt the pain of losing her friend extra hard. But she felt like a drought, the girl unable to shed a tear for anything that had happened, for the losses and for the trauma she had endured. Without Hopper, the group wasn't much, if anything at all. Without him they would fall apart, and she knew that.

There was a honk outside, Christine walking to her window and seeing Steve's car outside, the girl letting out a breath as she realized it was time to go. She sat down gently on the bed, trying to figure out how she was going to tie her sneakers. She lifted her leg, an intense pain coursing through her and the girl dropping her leg. She let out a sigh, her eyes closing briefly before she just stood, grabbing her bag and making her way out of the room. It took her a minute to get down the staircase, Holly playing with a toy car at the bottom, the little blonde girl smiling up at her cousin as she made the noise of a car. Christine tousled her hair, making her way towards the door and pulling it open. On the other side was a worried looking Steve Harrington, the boy with his hand raised in the air, poised to knock. He seemed contented with who answered, his lips fighting to turn up as he took her in. It had been days since he saw her, and she was perfect.

"Sorry I came up because I wasn't sure if you needed help or anything. You seem fine but I jus- are your-your shoe is untied." Steve said, his eyes glued to her shoelaces as she closed the door behind her. Christine nodded, her lips in a straight thin line as she started to walk. "Well...well stop."

Steve got down in front of her, the boy leaning over to tie her shoes. Christine felt like her heart had grown wings and flown away when he looked up at her, his big eyes innocent and so very loving. She felt an ache in her soul, she wondered how somebody like him could love somebody like her, so broken and bruised. He finished tying her shoes, looking back up at her again with a smile.

"There we go. You cant ever say I don't take care of you." He said, his eyes tracing the bruise on her cheek and the purple hue it held. Christine managed a small chuckle, reaching her hand down and offering it to help him up. He took it, the girl not entirely being able to help but Steve 100% making her feel like she had. Steve contained his smile, running ahead to open her car door so she didn't have to. She gave him a grateful look, the boy holding her hand as she dropped slowly into the car. He rounded it, Christine looking over his outfit, a blue button up and dress pants, an outfit halfway to what she had seen him in on prom night. Christine quite liked the dress shirt look, her eyes glued to it as he opened the door, his figure on full display in the tight little button up. He slid into his seat, his eyes going to her before he reached over and grabbed her seatbelt, buckling her in and giving her a helpful , toothy grin.

"Thank you." Christine thanked him, the girl almost forgetting where they had to go. But when Steve nodded and then turned away from her she was thrust back into reality, and  she felt that sorrow return.

The drive to the funeral was filled with silence, Steve thinking of things he could say to ease the tension, to make her smile or even laugh because seeing her so down was something he really hated. He would open his mouth to say something, and then would close it again, because he decided it wasn't the right thing to say. Christine spent most of the ride looking out the  window, the unease between them also stemming from the unresolved relationship status that came with telling each other that they loved each other.

Steve parked the car by the others, the boy cutting the engine off and then letting out a deep sigh. He hesitated to look at her, the silence starting to feel awfully deafening. Steve felt a hand drop onto his, Christine sucking in a deep breath and sliding her fingers between his. She caught a glimpse of red hair outside the window, Christine looking at Steve finally and giving him a lowered brow.

"I...don't really wanna go." Christine admitted, her stomach in knots as she thought about getting out of the car and going to the funeral.  Steve however gave her half a smile, a knowing look on his face as he spoke.

"I know. But we have to...for Max." Steve said, his tone serious as he said it. Christine struggled with herself for a moment, wondering if going was really her only option before she finally nodded, Steve turning his hand and squeezing hers and then opening his car door. He made his way around the car, Christine waiting for him because she knew she would need some sort of help. He opened her door, the boy making sure his shirt was tucked and then leaning in, unbuckling her seatbelt and helping her out of the car. He held her against him as she gripped his shirt, the girl letting out a few staggered breaths as she tried to control the pain in her body. He closed the car door, the boy looking down at her with a dutiful smile and pushing some hair behind her ear.

"We got this."