bella

20

[prettyglad]

safe until sunset — steve harrington

part one

summary — steve harrington is your bodyguard. he's your bodyguard you've become overly fond of. you spend too much time with him. then, you're on your way to spain for a press tour, and steve is acting weird. he's cold and distant, and mean. you find out why.

chapter summary — after everything that happened in spain, you don't know how to fit in the world anymore. you don't know how to do anything, especially now that you don't have steve. he gets reassigned, and you realise you need him. depsite the version of him you saw on that street in barcelona.

or "Steve flagged it himself. Steve sat across from someone — from your father's security director, from some operational review committee, from whoever receives these things — and he told them that the professional boundaries of the arrangement had not been appropriately maintained, and then he accepted the reassignment that followed, and he didn’t call you, and he didn’t knock on the door, and you have not spoken to him since the ambulance doors closed in Barcelona."

content —15.8k words, bodyguard!steveharrington x reader, she/her, mentions of violence, making out, slowburn!!!

note — ohhhh my god it's finally finished!!! thank you to all the love and appreciation on my silly little version of steve harrington i love u all. hope you enjoy!! mwah

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Your father's study smells the same as it always has.

Old paper and leather and the cedar of the panelling that runs floor to ceiling along the east wall, the wall with the fireplace that hasn't been lit since your mother left and that nobody has ever suggested lighting again. 

There are books on shelves that have been in the same positions for as long as you can remember, their spines faded to the same warm brown as the wall behind them. The desk is enormous and clear, the way powerful men's desks always are, paperwork filed elsewhere by someone else, the surface kept empty to suggest that whatever happens here happens at a different scale from ordinary work.

You've been sitting in the chair across from it for eleven minutes.

Your father is still reading something.

This is a thing he does — finishes what he's doing before he turns his full attention to a room, a person, a conversation. You grew up understanding this as a statement about the relative importance of things. You grew up understanding a lot of things in this room.

Outside the tall windows, the grounds are green and fresh. The fountain near the back terrace still flows, attracting birds and such. Everything is the colour of late summer, you swear the trees have gotten bigger in the weeks since you were last home.

Three weeks since Barcelona.

Your stitches came out eight days ago. Four small scars, barely anything, the kind that will fade to near-invisible within a year. The doctor had said so and been right, and you'd looked at the four small marks in the mirror and thought about what they cost.

Your father sets down whatever he was reading.

He looks at you. He has a particular way of looking at you — the look of someone taking inventory. You’re in your twenties and this look still makes you feel like you've been called to account for something.

"You look tired," he says.

"I'm fine."

"I didn't say you weren't fine."

You hold his gaze. He holds yours. This is also a thing you grew up learning to do.

"I'd like to know what the plan is," you say. "Going forward."

"That's what we're here to discuss."

"Good." You fold your hands in your lap. "Then let's discuss it."

Your father leans back in his chair slightly, the leather making its small sound, and he looks at you for another moment in the inventory way.

"The man has been charged," he says. "Formal charges were filed in Spain last week. There are parallel proceedings here, given the domestic incidents. The legal team is satisfied with the trajectory."

"I know," you say. "Amelia sent me the update."

"Then you know the immediate threat has been addressed."

"The immediate threat," you repeat.

"That's the appropriate framing."

"Is it?"

Your father's expression doesn't change, exactly, but something in it adjusts slightly. He is very good at conversations — better than almost anyone you've met, which is where you get it from, probably, though you would never say so. He reads subtext the way other people read text, and he’s reading yours right now.

"What would you like to know?" he asks.

"I'd like to know what happened," you say. "The full version. Not the update Amelia sent, not the version that was managed for my consumption. What actually happened."

A pause. He doesn’t hesitate, but you think he wants to look like he is. "The threat was identified in March," he says.

March. March is four months before Barcelona.  Four months.

"March," you say.

"A pattern was identified. Your movements were being tracked. The team ran an internal assessment, and the decision was made to monitor the situation rather than alert you."

You know this. You’ve heard it over and over. 

"The team," you say. "Or Steve?"

"The decision was made collectively," he says, which is an answer that contains another answer inside it.

"But Steve knew."

"Harrington was briefed, yes."

Harrington. The use of the last name in that register — the management register, the business register — lands in a particular way that you can’t identify.

"The team monitored the situation for four months," you say. "Across multiple locations. Hotels, venues, my building." You say it the way you've been saying it to yourself for three weeks, not because you don't know the facts but because saying them out loud to your father makes them a different kind of real. "He accessed restricted floors at two hotels."

"Attempted to access."

"Attempted to access." You look at the empty fireplace. You smile. "And the decision throughout all of that was that I should not be told."

"The assessment was that knowing would affect your behaviour in ways that could compromise the operation."

"I've heard the assessment."

"And?"

You look back at him. "And I think someone should have told me. That's all. I think as the person whose life was being organised around a threat I didn't know about, I had a right to know about the threat." You say it without heat. You've had three weeks to get the heat out of it. "I'm not angry about it anymore. I was. I'm not now. But I want to say it clearly to you because I don't think it was the right call, and I think you should know that I think so."

Your father is quiet for a moment.

"Noted," he says.

It's not an apology. You didn't expect one. Your father doesn’t apologise for operational decisions, considers it a category error. But noted from him carries a specific weight — it means it has been received and it won’t be forgotten.

You nod. "I'd like to talk about what comes next," you say.

"Yes," he says. "There are some changes to discuss."

Something in the way he says it. You look at him more carefully.

He’s picked up a pen from the desk, is turning it slowly between his fingers, which is the closest thing he has to a tell. You learned to read that pen a long time ago.

"What kind of changes?" you say.

"There will be a full security review," he says. "Given the events in Barcelona, the current protocols are being reassessed at every level. Staff, procedures, communication structures."

"That seems reasonable."

"It is reasonable." He pauses. "As part of that review, adjustments are being made to the close protection team."

The room is very quiet. Outside, the sun presses against the windows.

"What kind of adjustments?" you ask.

"Rotations," he says. "Reassignments. When a situation reaches the point that Barcelona did, it indicates a structural issue in how information is being managed. The review indicated that the current configuration had developed certain—" He pauses, choosing the word. "—inefficiencies."

"Inefficiencies," you say.

"In terms of information flow. Decision-making."

"You're talking about Steve?"

He doesn’t blink. "I'm talking about the team structure."

"You're talking about Steve," you say again, not a question this time.

"Harrington has been reassigned," your father says.

The study is very still.

You hear the clock on the mantle. The particular measured tick of it, the clock that has been in this room for your entire life, the clock that has counted down every difficult conversation you have ever had in this room.

"When?" you ask.

"It was confirmed last week."

Last week. While you were in this house, in your room, not answering calls and watching the grounds from your windows, it was confirmed last week, and nobody called you, nobody knocked on your door.

"Where?"

"He's been placed with another principal. The arrangement suits his profile."

Another principal. The arrangement suits his profile. The professional language of it, the complete removal of Steve from the sentence, and the reduction of eight months to a profile being matched to a placement.

"I wasn't consulted," you say.

"This is an operational decision."

"He was assigned to me."

"He was assigned to your security detail," your father says, someone drawing a distinction they've thought about in advance. "Reassignments within that structure are not subject to—"

"He was assigned to me," you say again, and something in your voice this time makes your father stop.

He looks at you. Turns his head towards the floor only slightly, and squints his eyes. 

You hate it. You look at the empty fireplace again because looking at your father right now requires something you're not sure you have.

"I see," your father says, after a moment.

"Don't," you say.

"I haven't said anything."

"You were going to."

A pause. Then: "Was it mutual?"

"It doesn't matter," you say, quickly. So quickly you don’t know you’re saying it.

"It might matter quite a lot."

"Not to the decision that was apparently already made last week without anyone telling me."

Your father picks up the pen again. Sets it down. The tell, running twice in three minutes.

"Barcelona changed the situation," he says, carefully. "What happened there — the threat, the response, the circumstances of it — indicated that there were complications in the current arrangement that could not be resolved within the existing structure."

"What complications?"

He doesn’t say anything for a second, and you understand that he’s known. Has known for some time. Probably longer than you've known yourself, which is the specific humiliation of fathers who are very observant and very quiet about what they observe.

"The review flagged a concern," he says, carefully, "about whether the professional boundaries of the arrangement had been appropriately maintained."

The professional boundaries of the arrangement. You sit with that.

"Who flagged it?" you say.

Your father is quiet.

"Dad." You say it the way you said it when you were seventeen and sitting in this room the first time something happened that required this kind of conversation. "Who flagged it?"

"It was part of the broader review," he says. Which means it wasn't the broader review.

"He flagged it himself," you say.

Your father says nothing. Which, with this man, is the same as saying yes.

Steve flagged it himself. Steve sat across from someone — from your father's security director, from some operational review committee, from whoever receives these things — and he told them that the professional boundaries of the arrangement had not been appropriately maintained, and then he accepted the reassignment that followed, and he didn’t call you, and he didn’t knock on the door, and you have not spoken to him since the ambulance doors closed in Barcelona.

He flagged it himself.

You think about I couldn't afford distractions said across a restaurant table with a candle burning low between you, and you think about not distractions from the job, and you think about eight months of him maintaining the wall, and the wall developing a fracture, and him apparently deciding, at some point in the aftermath of Barcelona, that the fracture had become structural.

That the only way to fix the structure was to leave it.

Your throat is very tight. You hold on to the arms of your chair so hard the tips of your fingers pinch. 

"The new arrangement," you say, and your voice comes out level, which surprises you slightly. "When does it take effect?"

"It already has," your father says.

Of course it has. "And the new detail lead?"

"A man named Reeves. Excellent record. He'll come to you for an introductory briefing before the end of the week."

Reeves. You file the name somewhere distant, the part of you that has been managing your exterior since you were old enough to understand the value of it.

"Fine," you say.

"It doesn't have to be fine," your father says, and it's the closest he gets to the thing underneath the operational language, the closest he comes to the version of this conversation that isn't about security structures and professional reviews. "It's all right if it isn't."

He’s not a warm man, your father. He was never the kind of father who sat beside you on this kind of thing, who put an arm around the shape of a difficulty and made it smaller. But he’s perceptive, and he’s honest, and right now the way he is looking at you is the way he looked at you the first time something broke. When you were trying to pretend it hadn't, and you know this look, you've known it since you were seventeen, and it is still the hardest look to be on the receiving end of.

"I'm going to need some time," you say.

"Of course."

—

Carter calls Steve on a Wednesday evening in the fourth week.

This isn’t unusual — they've maintained working contact, professionals operating in the same field, the ordinary commerce of people who do the same job in adjacent spaces. Carter calls with operational things fairly regularly. 

What's unusual is that Carter calls at eight in the evening, which is not an operational hour, and opens with How's Hartley? in the tone of a man who does not particularly care about the answer to that question. He doesn’t actually care about Steve’s new principal.

"Fine," Steve says. "Uneventful."

"Good." A pause that is doing something. "How are you?"

"Fine."

"Right," Carter says. He doesn’t press on the word fine and its limitations.

"She's okay," Carter says, after a moment. "If you were going to ask."

Steve doesn't say anything. He doesn’t think there’s anything banked in his mind to say. He’s caught off guard.

"Stitches came out clean. She's been at the estate mostly." A pause. "Quiet, Amelia says. But working. She went back to work a couple weeks ago."

Steve looks at the wall of the Kensington flat. He thinks about you going back to work. He thinks about what that looks like — the particular focused quality you get when something is actually demanding your attention, the way the professional exterior slides into place so naturally that most people can't see the effort in it. 

You’re good at it. Better than you know, probably. Better than he's ever told you, which is its own category of thing he's not going to look at directly tonight.

"Reeves seems capable," Carter says.

"His record is good," Steve says.

"You looked him up."

"Yes."

Carter doesn't comment on this, which is generous. "She's been—" He pauses, choosing. "There was a thing with the coffee. Apparently took three weeks to get right."

Steve closes his eyes. Opens them. Sighs.

"She asked for your location," Carter says. "Did they tell you? In the briefing."

"Yes."

"She said she wasn't going to do anything with it." Another pause. "Wanted to know where you were."

Steve looks at the packed second bag in the corner of the bedroom. He looks at it for a moment, the bag he hasn't unpacked, which has been in the corner for weeks, which he is going to unpack eventually when this placement stops feeling like something to keep one bag packed for.

"Carter," he says.

"I know," Carter says. "I know. I'm not — I'm just telling you."

"Okay."

"She's okay," Carter says again, softer. "She's getting there."

Steve thinks about getting there as a destination. As something with a location you can be moving toward.

"I had the cloth ready," Steve says. It comes out differently than he expected — something with more weight. "In Barcelona. In the inside pocket of my jacket. I'd been carrying it since before we left the hotel because I'd already assessed it as a possible outcome."

Carter is quiet. Steve can hear people moving around him.

"I went to dinner with her," Steve says. "I sat across from her, and I talked about tomorrow's schedule, and I had the cloth in my pocket because I'd run the numbers and decided that what was coming toward us was close enough that the contingency was real." He pauses. "And she still got hurt."

"Yes," Carter says.

"So the reassignment was right."

"Steve—"

"The conflict of interest was real," Steve says. "That's what the review found. It's what I told them before the review found it. I was making decisions with something in them that shouldn't have been there, and even with all the preparation, even with the cloth and the team and the planning, it still—" He stops. Starts differently. "If the outcome had been different. In Barcelona. If what happened to her had been worse. I couldn't have—" He doesn't finish.

Carter is quiet for long enough to be saying something.

"You flagged it yourself," Carter says eventually. "Before they'd found anything. You walked into that room, and you handed them the problem before they'd identified it." A pause. "I don't think you know what that is."

"It was the right call."

"I know it was the right call," Carter says, with a patience that suggests he's been waiting to say this for some time. "That's exactly my point. You knew it was the right call, and you made it anyway. You made it knowing what it meant. You sat in that briefing room, you were clear, and you were honest, and you took the reassignment without—" He pauses. "You were very clean about it. And I don't think you've given yourself any credit for that."

Steve doesn't say anything. He chews the inside of his cheek raw. He’s been doing it since way before Barcelona.

"She asked for your location," Carter says again.

"I know."

"She has an address in Kensington that she's had for six weeks."

"I know."

"And she hasn't—"

"I know," Steve says. "Carter."

"Right," Carter says. And then, simply: "Get some sleep."

He hangs up.

Steve stands in the kitchen of the Kensington flat in the fourth week and looks at the cold tea on the counter. He thinks about an address being kept for six weeks unused. He thinks about what it means to hold something and not act on it — not because you don't want to, but because you're still figuring out what acting on it would mean.

He thinks about this for longer than he should, standing in a kitchen at eight-thirty in the evening. Then he pours the tea down the drain, picks up his phone and puts it face down on the table, and goes to bed.

He doesn't sleep for a long time.

He knows the shape of that, too, by now. The specific texture of the Kensington ceiling in the dark, the ambient sound of the street below, the way the night stretches out when there's something underneath it you're not looking at directly.

He looks at the ceiling. He thinks, getting there. He thinks about what it looks like when you reach it.

Eventually, he sleeps.

—

You're not sure what you're looking for when you open your messages app — probably nothing, probably just the insomniac phone habit of scrolling through the recent conversations looking for something to rest your brain on — and then his name is there, and you stop.

You haven't deleted the thread.

You've thought about deleting it several times. The last message in it is from June, a week before Barcelona, something practical and logistical about a schedule change, and you've thought about deleting the whole thing because having his name sitting in your phone is its own particular ongoing thing that you've been managing alongside everything else.

You didn't delete it. You're looking at it now. It’s been six months.

And then, because your thumb is moving before your brain has fully weighed in, you tap on the text field, and the drafts folder opens — the messages app's automatic archive of things typed and not sent — and there they are.

Eleven of them.

You didn't know there were that many. You knew there were some. You'd typed things and then not sent them, and apparently, the app had been more diligent about preservation than you'd been about erasure.

You read them in order.

August 31st Steve I don't know if you've been told I asked for your address but I want you to know I'm not going to do anything with it. I just needed to know where you were. 

September 4th The new detail lead is fine. He's good at his job. I just wanted you to know that I'm not comparing. I just wanted to say something to someone and you're the person I wanted to say it to, which is its own problem I'm working on.

September 13th I found out from my father that you flagged it yourself. I don't know if I'm angry about it or not. I think I understand it. 

Novmember 25th Are you okay? I know you don't owe me an answer and I know Carter would have told me if something had happened but I still think about asking. I still think about whether anyone is asking you that.

December 11th I had a bad night. Nothing happened, I'm fine, I just wanted to tell someone and you were the person I reached for and then I remembered.

December 19th I'm not scared of you. I want you to know that. I was, for a little while, and I've thought about it a lot, and I'm not anymore. I don't know if it matters to you. I just wanted to say it somewhere.

January 2nd Happy new year.

January 9th I've been thinking about the dinner. The restaurant in Barcelona. The way you ordered for me because you knew I wasn't going to be able to read the menu properly. I didn't say thank you for that at the time and I've been thinking about it.

January 14th I think you made the right call about the reassignment. I think you were right and I think you did it for me and I've been trying to figure out how to feel about that for three months. I don't have an answer yet.

January 21st Do you ever think about Portugal? I know it was a cover story. I know we made it up. I just—

This one ends there.

February 4th I miss you. I've been not saying that for six months. I miss you and I don't know what to do about it and I'm still not sure I would know what to do if I were standing in front of you but I think I'd like the chance to find out.

You put your phone face-down on the nightstand. You look at the ceiling of your room, which is the ceiling you've been looking at for months, which knows everything you've been thinking at eleven o'clock at night since July.

You pick the phone back up. You look at the last one.

I miss you. I've been not saying that for six months.

Your thumb hovers over the send button for a long time. You put the phone down. You don't send it. But you don't delete it either.

—

You're in your room at the estate at half past nine in the evening, when the house has settled into its nighttime quiet, and the only sounds are the ones the building makes to itself. You're reading a book, but not really. The grounds are dark beyond your bay window, the fountain off for the winter, the garden doing its bare and quiet thing.

Your phone rings. Unknown number.

You look at it for two full rings. Unknown numbers have a different quality now — they carry a low-level wariness that wasn't there before Barcelona, before you understood what it means to have your movements tracked by someone you didn't know was watching.

You pick up anyway. You always pick up.

"It's me," he says.

Everything goes still. The hum of your humidifier. The crackle of the candle beside you. The soft tick of the clock on the wall. All of it continues. None of it matters.

Your hand tightens around the phone, and you let the silence hold for a moment because the specific fact of his voice — just his voice, at half past nine on a Tuesday, through a phone you nearly didn't answer — does something immediate and physical to the centre of your chest that you weren’t prepared for.

Six months. Six months of his name sitting in your messages app, eleven unsent drafts, the address in Kensington that you've looked at more times than you've admitted to yourself.

And now just: it's me. Like, no time has passed. Like, six months haven't been six months.

"I know it's late," he says, into your silence.

You find your voice from somewhere. "When did you get a new number?"

It's not the question you meant to ask. It's the one that comes out, the deflective practical one, the one that gives you a second to locate yourself before anything more loaded has to leave your mouth.

"New phone," he says. "Since January."

"Right." You swing your legs over the edge of your bed and stare at your socks. At the little sheep. "Why are you calling?" It’s not an abrupt question, but you wouldn’t mind if it came across that way.

A pause. Not long. The kind he uses when he's choosing words carefully rather than when he doesn't have them.

"I've been trying to figure out the right time," he says. "And I've decided I've been using that as an excuse. There isn't a right time. There's just time."

You don't say anything immediately.

You press your free hand flat against your bed and screw the sheet in your hands, and let yourself think for a second before you speak, because the temptation is to say something that sounds fine, something that keeps the surface of things managed and level. You've been doing that for months, and you're tired of it, and also, you're still not entirely sure what you want the alternative to be.

"Okay," you say, and even you can hear that it isn't quite okay, that it's the sound of someone not ready to give more than that yet.

You’re sure he hears it, too. "Are you—" he starts.

"Don't ask me if I'm okay," you say. Quickly. Before he can land the question cleanly and require you to answer it honestly in your bedroom at half past nine on a Tuesday.

"Okay," he says quietly. And then: "I wasn't going to ask that."

"What were you going to ask?"

"How you are," he says. "Which is different."

You look at the mirror across from you on the far wall. At your own reflection in it. "Getting there," you say finally.

The silence that follows has a different texture from the first one. Less the silence of shock, more the silence of two people in the same held breath from different places.

"I've been better," he says, after a moment, and it's quiet and undefended when he says it, which is what makes it land the way it does. "The job is fine. Everything else is—" A pause. "It's been a long few months."

You close your eyes briefly.

It would be easier if he were fine. It would be easier if you could maintain the careful distance you've built by being angry at him, or afraid of him, or uncertain enough that staying away felt like the obvious choice. But he says it's been a long few months in a voice that has something stripped out of it, and you can't locate the distance you're supposed to be maintaining.

"I know," you say, and hear how much you mean it.

"I thought about calling a lot," he says.

"I drafted texts," you say. "Eleven of them. I didn't send any."

Something changes in the quality of his silence.

"What did they say?" he asks. Careful. Like the question might be too much and he's bracing for you to say so.

You could deflect. You know how to deflect. You've been deflecting for months with some proficiency, and it would be easy now, easier than saying it out loud, easier than handing something to him you've been keeping to yourself since July.

"Different things," you say. "On different nights."

He waits.

And maybe it's the hour, or the darkness outside, or the fact that it's been so long and the drafts are still sitting in your phone unsent and it is very late to still be holding all of this alone — or maybe it's just him, on the other end of the phone, waiting without pushing, which is the thing he has always done that you have never been able to fully close yourself to.

"December third," you say. "I asked if you were okay. I said I know you don't owe me an answer. I said I think about whether anyone is asking you that."

The silence stretches. Too long for your liking.

"Nobody was," he says. The words come out very level and very controlled and don't quite hide what's underneath them. "Nobody was asking me that."

Something in your chest pulls tight. A hollow thump that stretches up into your throat. Like a pebble stuck in a stream.

"I know," you say.

Which is worse, somehow, than if you hadn't known. Knowing and not sending it anyway. Knowing and choosing the distance because the distance felt safer than what might happen if you closed it.

"February fourth," you say, before you can think better of it. "I wrote that I miss you. That I'd not been saying it and didn't know what to do about it." A pause. You press your palm harder against the bed. "And that I still wasn't sure what I would do if I were standing in front of you. But I thought I'd like the chance to find out."

"Yeah?" he says, and the word is very quiet and very steady, but you can hear everything underneath it, the not-calling and the new number, and there's no right time, there's just time.

"I don't know what that means yet," you say, quickly, because you need him to understand that. You need the acknowledgement to not be more than it is. "I'm not — I'm not saying everything is fine. It's not fine. There are still things I haven't worked out, and I don't want to pretend I have."

"I'm not asking you to pretend," he says.

"I know," you say, and you do know, which is the problem. He has never once asked you to pretend.

"Can I ask you something?" he says.

Your jaw tightens slightly. You wish you could see his face. Or maybe not. No, you want to see his face, and his stupid eyes, you want to look past his face and up into his hair because you can’t look him in the eyes. You wish he could be here, making you nervous. He’s so tall.

"Depends on the something."

"The step back," he says.

There it is. Your breath goes out slowly through your nose. "What about it?"

"I've thought about it every day since then," he says. "Not with—" He stops. Starts again. "Not with any expectation attached to it. I just want to know if you've been able to make sense of it."

You think about the drafts. About December nineteenth — I'm not scared of you. I want you to know that. I was, for a little while. About the months of turning it over, looking at it from every angle available, arriving at something that feels like the truth, even if it doesn't feel like a resolution.

"I think," you say slowly, "that my body decided before I did. About something it didn't have context for." You pause. "If I'd known. If you'd told me what you'd been carrying all week, what I was actually seeing when you—" You stop. "I think the step back would have been smaller. Or not there."

"That's generous," he says.

"It's honest," you say. "There's a difference." And then, because you're tired and it's late and the tea on your bedside table is cold and you've been holding this particular thing for months: "I'm not scared of you, Steve. I was. I'm not anymore." 

The silence that follows is long enough that you almost say something into it just to fill it, except you've learned, over the eight months of proximity, that some of Steve's silences don't need filling.

"I know I should have told you," he says eventually. "Earlier. About the threat. I've gone over it enough times to understand that the calculation I made was wrong in ways I didn't see clearly at the time."

"You were scared," you say.

"Yes."

"Of what would happen to me."

"Yes." A beat. "And of what knowing would do to the — to how things were between us. Before Barcelona. I told myself that was tactical. It wasn't only tactical."

There it is. The thing underneath the professional explanation, the thing that's harder to say and that he's saying anyway.

You sit there with it.

"I know," you say. "I think I've known that for a while."

"I'm sorry," he says. "I want to say that clearly. Not as a professional apology. As the actual one."

Something inside you that has been holding itself carefully for so long shifts slightly. Acknowledges the weight of it being said.

"I know you are," you say.

"That's not the same as it being enough," he says.

"No," you agree. "It's not. But it's something."

The house is very quiet around you. It’s dark and cold, and the night is going on without you, indifferent and ongoing, the way nights do.

"I should let you sleep," he says, after a while.

"Probably," you say, though you both know you won't.

"I just wanted to—" He stops. You hear him make the small sound he makes when he's choosing between things. "I wanted to hear your voice. That's all."

You close your eyes for one second. You nibble your lip between your teeth, and you worry it might split. You don’t think you have it in you to care. You let it go and absentmindedly decide to pick at the skin around your thumbnail instead.

"Okay," you say, and this time it doesn't sound like the managed version. It sounds like what it is.

"Okay," he says.

A pause.

"Goodnight," he says.

"Goodnight," you say.

He hangs up.

—

He doesn't call again.

You tell yourself this is fine. The call happened, things were said that needed saying, the line between you has been reopened if not fully repaired, and that is — that is something. That is more than you had in January. You hold this in both hands and try to let it be enough.

It almost is.

On a Wednesday in March, you're in the estate's sitting room with a book you've been reading for two weeks without making meaningful progress, the late afternoon light doing its grey winter thing through the tall windows, when you hear tyres on the gravel.

You don't look up immediately. There are always cars at the estate — Amelia, deliveries, the occasional meeting your father has here rather than at the office. The sound of tyres on gravel is not, in itself, interesting.

Then the car stops.

And there's a pause — a pause where you're not sure if a car has stopped to turn around or stopped because it has arrived — and then a door, and then footsteps on the stone path toward the front entrance.

Amelia would ring the bell. The delivery services use the service entrance. Your father's associates tend to arrive in twos.

You put your book down.

The doorbell doesn't ring. There's a knock instead — three, measured, unhurried. Something in the quality of it reaches you across the hallway before you've even stood up.

You know that knock, and you hate that you do. You stand up. You cross the hallway. You open the front door.

He's standing on the step with his hands in his coat pockets — the dark coat, the one that isn't the work overcoat, the one that belongs to the version of him that exists outside of professional contexts — and he looks at you when the door opens the way he has always looked at you, the immediate, automatic thing that has never once required a run-up.

For a moment, neither of you says anything.

The February air is cold around him. The drive behind him is empty except for his car — a rental, you notice, not the company vehicle, not anything that belongs to the security firm — and the afternoon light is low and grey and doing nothing to help anyone look their best, and he looks tired in the accumulated way, the way that lives in someone's shoulders rather than their eyes, and he’s here.

He is just here.

Without telling you.

Without giving you a chance to prepare for it, or to talk yourself out of opening the door, or to manage the first moment of seeing him into something more controlled than what is currently happening on your face.

"Hi," he says.

You look at him.

You look at him, and you don't say anything for a second because you're busy doing the thing you're always doing with him, the thing where you have to catch up to yourself, find the gap between where you are and where you were a moment ago and figure out what happened in it.

"You didn't call," you say.

"No," he says.

"You could have called. You had the number."

"I know."

"So why didn't you?"

"Because you would have had time to decide not to let me through the gate," he says simply. Just the truth of it. "And I didn't want to give you that chance. Not because I think you should have to see me. Because I think you'd have talked yourself out of it and then regretted it."

Your jaw shifts. He's right. You hate that he's right. You stand there in your doorway and feel the truth of it settle in your chest and hate it thoroughly.

"That's presumptuous," you say.

"Yes," he agrees.

"You drove all the way from Kensington on the presumption that I'd open the door."

"I drove all the way from Kensington," he says, "because I've been trying to find the right way to do this, and there isn't one. And I decided showing up was better than another night of not showing up."

He doesn't fidget. He just stands on your doorstep in his coat, lets you look at him and waits. He's always been very good at waiting. It’s always been one of the most difficult things about him.

"Come in," you say finally.

Something in his face does something small that he doesn't try to manage. He steps through the door, and you step back to let him pass, and close it behind him. The house swallows the sound of it, and you stand in the hallway together for the first time since Barcelona.

He looks around the hallway briefly. You think it’s a security sweep, there’s probably a part of him that is, but you think he’s adjusting to being back in this house. You see it settle in his chest. He takes a breath in and holds it for a second.

"How long are you planning to stay?" you say, arms folded, leaning against the opposite wall.

"As long as you'll let me," he says. "I'm not making assumptions about that."

"Good," you say. "Don't."

He nods once.

You unfold your arms, push off the wall, and turn toward the kitchen because the kitchen is where everything happens in this house, because you need something to do with your hands, and because standing in the hallway staring at each other is not going to get any easier the longer you do it.

"Coffee," you say over your shoulder. "And then you can explain yourself."

"I wasn't aware I needed to explain myself."

"You showed up at my house without calling," you say. "That's an explanation situation."

"Fair," he says, and follows you.

He sits at the island.

He sits where he used to sit, the specific stool at the specific angle, and you're struck for a moment by how completely this kitchen absorbed him — how he became part of the geometry of it without either of you deciding that was happening, until the shape of him in that spot became something you knew without thinking about it.

You fill the kettle, find the coffee and do the small procedural things of making it, which buys you some time and gives you something to look at other than him.

"The call," he says, after a moment. "Tuesday. I didn't plan it the way it came out."

"Which part?" you ask, not turning around.

"Any of it." A pause. "I've been running conversations in my head for some time. None of them went the way Tuesday went."

"What did the ones in your head go like?"

"More controlled," he says. "Better arguments. Better sequencing." Another pause. "Tuesday was none of those things."

You turn around with both mugs. You set it in front of him. You stay on your side of the counter and wrap both hands around your own, and look at him.

"I just wanted to hear your voice," you say.

He looks at you.

"That's what you said," you say. "At the end. Before you hung up. You said it like you hadn't planned to."

"I hadn't," he says.

You look at him across the counter in the dull afternoon light.

There are things you've prepared for this conversation — things you've been holding in reserve since, the ones that needed saying in a room rather than a text draft, the ones that deserve to be said out loud to his face rather than to the ceiling at eleven o'clock at night. And you intend to say them. You intend to be very clear about several things.

But first:

"Nobody was asking if you were okay," you say. "That's what you also said on Tuesday."

His jaw tightens slightly. "It's not—" He stops. "Carter. Occasionally. But not — not the way you mean."

"Not the actual question," you say.

"Not the actual question," he confirms.

You look at him. At the tiredness sitting in the accumulated way through his shoulders. At the lines of his face which know you and have always known you, which you have spent months and too many unsent messages trying to reconcile with the face you saw on a Barcelona pavement doing something you hadn't known he was capable of.

"Are you okay?" you ask.

He meets your eyes. "No," he says. "Not particularly."

"Okay," you say.

"Are you?" he asks.

You think about the question. Actually, think about it, the way you haven't let yourself for months, the way the real answer has been sitting underneath the getting there and the I'm managing like sediment.

"No," you say. "Not entirely."

Something in him exhales. You feel it, the small release of something that had been held too tight.

"The step back," he says, after a moment. "On the pavement in Barcelona. I've been—" He stops. "I need to know if you're still—"

"I'm not scared of you," you say, before he can finish the question, because you've been holding that particular thing in, and he deserves to hear it before anything else. "I was. For a while. I'm not anymore."

He waits. His hands tighten around his mug, and his knuckles almost turn white. The steam curls up his arms and disappears into the air. He hasn’t looked away from you since you sat down.

"I'm still angry," you say, and your voice stays even when you say it, which takes some effort because it's true, and has been true since the hospital. It’s been sitting underneath everything else. "I know you had reasons. I know they were real, and I know you thought you were doing the right thing. I'm still angry that I walked around another country, not knowing someone was following me. I'm still angry that you decided on what I could handle without asking me."

"Yes," he says. There’s nothing defensive about it, and you appreciate it.

"And I'm angry," you say again, quieter now, "that you removed yourself. That you sat in that room, flagged it and accepted the reassignment and didn't — " You stop. Regroup. "I understand it. I've thought about it from every angle, and I understand the logic of it. But the part of it that was about me, the part where you decided the safest thing for me was to not be there, and you made that decision alone — I'm still angry about that too."

"I know," he says.

"You don't get to make that call for me," you say. "I needed to say that to you in person."

"I know," he says again. "You're right. I should have—" He stops. "There's no version of how I handled this that I'm fully satisfied with. All of it was made with one idea in mind, and I got the execution wrong in several directions."

"What was the idea?" you ask.

"Keeping you safe," he says.

"From him."

"From everything," he says, and it's quiet enough that it takes you a second to hear the full weight of what it covers.

You stand there with it. The kitchen is warm. The coffee is cooling in your hands.

"The sitting room has better light," you say.

He blinks. The tiniest fraction of something that might have been tension leaves his shoulders.

"Okay," he says.

"We can talk there," you say. "Properly. I meant what I said — I'm not promising anything, and there are still things I need to say. But—" You look at him. "You're here. So we might as well talk."

"Yeah," he says, and stands up from the stool.

You lead him out of the kitchen, down the hallway and into the sitting room. You sit. He sits across from you.

And there, in the room with the better light, with forever between you that are neither forgiven nor forgotten but that you have both carried here and are finally, carefully, beginning to put down in the same place at the same time 

You start to talk. Really talk.

The kind that takes the rest of the afternoon and most of the evening, and that ends not with anything resolved but with something opened, something that had been sealed against itself for four months finally given air.

When he eventually stands to leave, it’s completely dark outside.

He stands in the hallway the way he stood on the step three hours ago, hands in his coat pockets, looking at you with the look that has always been specifically yours and that months of absence haven't changed the quality of one bit.

"I'll call," he says. "Before I come next time."

"Next time," you say.

"If there is one," he says carefully.

"Call first," you say.

The corner of his mouth moves. "Okay," he says.

He leaves.

You stand in the hallway after the door closes and listen to his car on the gravel, and then the silence of the estate settles back around the space he occupied, and you stand there for a while in the quiet and let the evening be what it is.

—

The call doesn't come.

Not the day after he leaves the estate, which you'd half-expected and half-dreaded in equal measure. Not the day after that, which you'd spent doing things with the concentrated attention of someone deliberately not checking their phone. By the end of the first week, you'd gotten through with some dignity. By the middle of the second week, which had started to feel less like patience and more like slow frustration, like waiting for a thing to happen and watching it not happen.

By the third week, you've stopped telling yourself you're waiting.

You're not waiting. You don't wait. You have a life and a schedule and work that needs doing and friends who call and a house full of the quiet machinery of your own existence, and you are not sitting by the phone like some relic of a century with fewer communication options. You are living your life. The phone is simply also present while you live it.

And then on a Thursday evening at six o'clock, you're standing in the kitchen eating crackers over the sink because you forgot to eat lunch and the address in Kensington has been sitting in your phone since November, and you put the crackers down and pick up your keys.

It's not a decision, exactly. It's the end of a decision that's been made for three weeks without your full participation.

You're in the car before you've thought about what you're going to say when he opens the door.

The drive is forty minutes in the Thursday evening traffic.

You spend most of it not thinking about what you're doing, which requires some effort, and the remainder thinking about it in the abstract rather than the specific. The fact of going, not the thing you'll say when you get there. 

You've learned, at some point in the last few months, that planning what to say to Steve Harrington is largely a waste of time because conversations with him rarely go the direction you've planned them in, and by the time you reach the right street in Kensington it's almost seven and the evening is blue and cold, and you've found a parking space and you're getting out of the car and that's that.

The building is a converted Victorian terrace, red brick, the kind that looks expensive without trying. Third floor, the address said. You find the buzzer panel in the small lobby and press the right number.

It takes long enough that you start to think about what you'll do if he isn't there — whether you'll wait in the car, whether you'll leave, whether you'll text I'm outside your building, I know— and then the intercom crackles.

"Yeah," he says.

"It's me," you say.

A pause. Not a long one. The door buzzes open.

He's waiting in the doorway of the flat when you come off the landing. Third floor, last door, and he's standing there with his arms loosely folded and his shoulder against the door frame. He's wearing a grey t-shirt and dark jeans, not the suit, not the overcoat, not any version of the professional armour you've seen him in for those eight months — and he's looking at you with an expression that is not shocked.

Not shocked at all, actually. More like someone whose calculation has just come back confirmed.

"You said you'd call," you say, stopping a few feet away.

"I was going to," he says.

"When?"

"Soon."

"That's not a specific time, Steve."

"No," he agrees. "It's not."

"You drove all the way from Kensington without calling," you say. "Three weeks ago. And then I've been waiting for a call that apparently was coming soon, which—"

"So you drove all the way from the estate without calling," he says.

"I learned from the best."

The corner of his mouth moves. He unfolds his arms.

"Come in," he says, stepping back from the door.

The flat is smaller than you'd imagined.

There's a sitting room and a kitchen that's separate from it, a hallway with two other doors, a window in the sitting room that looks over the street below. But smaller than the estate, smaller than anything you associate with Steve's presence, which tends to make spaces feel larger rather than smaller. 

Here, the walls are close, and the furniture is the particular style of furnished rentals — inoffensive, mid-range, slightly too beige — and there are signs of him layered over the top of it in the way you layer yourself into a space you haven't fully committed to.

A jacket over the back of the sofa. Running shoes by the door. Two mugs on the kitchen counter. A book on the arm of the chair.

And by the hall — a bag.

Partially unpacked. Sitting there with its zip half-open like it arrived and got partially dealt with, and then was left, which means it's been here for months still half-unpacked, which tells you something about the degree to which Steve has committed to this space.

He hasn't. He's been here without quite being here, which is its own kind of thing to notice.

"Tea?" he says, from the kitchen doorway.

"Wine if you have it," you say.

"I have it," he says.

You sit on the sofa that isn't quite his sofa and look around the sitting room while he opens a bottle in the kitchen, and you think about all the times you've been in his professional space — your kitchen, your sitting room, cars, hotel rooms, terminals — and how different this is. 

This is where he actually lives. This is the shape of his private life, the one that exists when nobody is watching, and it’s smaller and less settled than you expected, and for reasons you couldn't entirely articulate, it makes something in your chest loosen slightly toward him.

He comes back with two glasses and sits at the other end of the sofa, at the comfortable middle-distance of two people who have decided not to make a thing of proximity, and hands you yours.

"You could have called," he says.

"You could have called," you say.

"I know." He settles back against the sofa, easily like someone in their own space, which is the version of him you haven't seen much of — unguarded in the physical sense, taking up the room without calculating it. "I was drafting things."

"How many?"

He considers. "Not eleven."

"How many?"

"Four," he says. "Five, maybe. I deleted as I went."

"That's worse," you say. "At least mine are documented."

He looks at you sideways, and then something happens — a sound that is brief and low and surprised out of him, the beginning of a laugh that he doesn't quite finish — and it does something to the atmosphere in the room, that sound, because you don't have a lot of data points for Steve Harrington laughing. 

You find that you want more of them.

"What did yours say?" you ask.

"Things I've already said in person," he says. "More or less."

"More or less."

"Some things were harder to say in person." He turns his glass in his hand. "I rewrote the same paragraph about the restaurant in Barcelona four times. The part where I ordered for you."

You look at him. "I wrote about that too," you say. "In January."

"I know. You told me."

"I didn't say thank you at the time," you say. "For that. I've been thinking about it."

He looks at you with a specifically quiet look, the one that receives things without making a production of it. "You don't have to thank me for that."

"I know I don't have to," you say. "I wanted to. In person."

He nods. Accepts it. Doesn't deflect it back the way people sometimes do when they're uncomfortable being thanked — he just takes it and lets it be, which is something you've always noticed about him, the way he receives things without either dismissing them or inflating them.

You sit in the small sitting room with your wine and the quality of an early Thursday evening, the street below doing its quiet business through the window, and you try to locate yourself inside the fact that you're here, in his flat, without the professional context for the first time since knowing him.

"This is strange," you say.

"Very," he says.

"Not bad strange," you say quickly.

"No," he agrees. "Just different. I keep waiting for something to require managing."

"I know." You look at him. "I keep waiting for you to boss me around"

He almost smiles. "Is it worse?" he asks. "Without the—" He makes a gesture that seems to mean all of it, the whole professional structure.

You think about it. "No," you say honestly. "I'm just recalibrating."

"Me too," he says.

The recalibrating takes the form of talking for the next hour in a way that starts carefully and gradually stops being careful.

It starts with the work things — both of your lives since July, the things that happened and can be described without being loaded. He tells you more about Hartley, who is exactly as professionally uneventful as advertised, and something about it makes him more specific than he was in the phone call, more willing to characterise, less restrained. He does an impression of Hartley explaining the merits of a particular kind of parking space, and it catches you completely off guard.

"You're funny," you say, like this is new information.

He looks at you. "I've always been funny."

"You've always been dry," you say. "That's not the same thing."

"It's a subset."

"I've never heard you do an impression before."

"You've never been in my flat before," he says. "Different context."

"So in professional contexts, you don't do impressions?"

"In professional contexts, I don't do a lot of things," he says.

There's something in it — the easy way he said it, the way it landed without weight, the fact that he's sitting here in his grey t-shirt doing impressions of his boring principal and making you laugh in his half-unpacked flat — that feels like a door opening. Ajar, enough to see through.

"Like what?" you say.

He considers this with the thoughtfulness he applies to most things, except tonight it doesn't have the controlled professional cast to it. "Laugh," he says. "At things that are actually funny rather than things that are politely funny." He tilts his head. "Tell people when they've said something that's landed."

"You do that?"

"Not at work." He takes a drink. "I notice a lot at work. I don't say most of it."

"Like what did you notice?" you ask. "That you didn't say."

He looks at you sideways. "Specifically?" he says.

"Specifically."

He looks at the window for a second. Then back. "The colour-coded tabs," he says. "You said, Oh my god when you saw them. I thought that was funny. I didn't let myself think it was funny for about four minutes because I was trying to brief you, and then I thought about it again, and I had to stop looking at you."

"I saw that," you say. "I thought you were annoyed."

"I was trying not to smile," he says. "Which in professional contexts looks identical to being annoyed."

You laugh. A proper one, the kind that arrives before you've curated it, and you watch him watch it happen with the attentiveness he's always had, except tonight it isn't managing attentiveness, it's just him. Paying attention to you because he wants to.

"The bathroom breaks," you say.

"Movement windows."

"You called my bathroom schedule a movement window."

"It's a more elegant term."

"It really isn't," you say, and he exhales through his nose, and his mouth does the full version of the thing it's been doing all evening, the actual smile, unhurried and slightly crooked and entirely directed at you, and you sit there with it for a second.

You're on your second glass of wine when it comes up.

Not because either of you planned it. It's the way conversations find the hard things when the room has gotten warm enough and late enough and safe enough — they circle and circle and then settle, just there suddenly, the way you become aware of a sound that's been in the background the whole time.

He'd been talking about something else — the Hartley placement, working in a low-risk environment after eight months of a very different one — and then he stops, mid-sentence, and looks at his glass.

"I owe you something," he says.

You swallow. "For what?"

"Barcelona," he says. "Specifically—" He pauses. Sets his glass down on the coffee table. "The street. What you saw."

The room goes slightly quieter around the word, the way rooms do.

You hadn't planned to have this conversation tonight. You'd thought, somewhere in the drive over, that it might take a few visits to get here, that you'd circle it the way you'd been circling everything before finally approaching. But he's sitting here on his sofa in his grey t-shirt, and he's put his glass down like he’s decided to say something, and you find you don't want to manage it away.

"Okay," you say.

He looks at you. "I scared you."

"Yes," you say. Simply. You’ve already told him this.

"I need to say sorry for that." He says it directly; the way he says things he means. "Not for what happened — I'm not sorry for stopping him. But for what it looked like. What I — how far it went."

You hold your wine glass and look at him and wait, because there's more, you can hear more underneath that, and you're not going to fill the space before he's had a chance to put it in.

"I don't—" He stops. Starts again more carefully. "That isn't who I am. In general. I need you to know that."

"I know that," you say.

"You watched me do something that night, and I'm aware of what it looked like from where you were standing. I don't want you to think I’m—" He seems to run out of the sentence. Picks up the glass again. Puts it back down.

"Steve," you say gently. "Tell me."

He exhales slowly through his nose. "I'm trained," he says. "I've done the courses, and I know the protocols. In professional situations, I apply those things in the right way. I don't over-extend. I stop when the threat is neutralised. That's how it's supposed to work, and that's how it works ninety-nine times out of a hundred."

"And the hundredth?" you ask.

"The hundredth is Barcelona," he says. "The hundredth is what happens when the threat isn't abstract." He looks at his hands, resting on his knees. "It's different when you're the person in the middle of it. When I saw what he'd done. When I saw your hand."

Your hand presses briefly, automatically, toward the place below your ribs.

He watches the gesture. Something in his jaw tightens.

"I stopped being the right me," he says. "I stopped running the protocol. It became something else, and I let it become something else for longer than I should have, and the three people who pulled me back are people whose job it was to pull me back, and I'm not proud of it."

"You were protecting me," you say.

"That's not a justification," he says, and he says it firmly, not at you but at the space between you, the way someone says something they've been saying to themselves repeatedly and have finally said out loud. "The fact that I was scared for you doesn't make it okay that I kept going past the point where I needed to. Those are two different things, and I've been trying not to confuse them."

"You've been thinking about this," you say.

"Since then," he says. "Most days."

"I didn't know you could be like that," you say.

You say it, and he receives it without flinching. "I know."

"I knew what the job required. I'd thought about it in a general way." You look at your glass. "I hadn't thought about what it actually looked like."

"No one's supposed to see it," he says. "That's the point, usually. You manage it before it gets to that stage." A pause. "Barcelona didn't give me that option. He was there before I'd fully understood he was there, and then your hand was—" He blinks. "I stopped being a professional."

"You became something else," you say.

"Yes," he says. 

"Something more," you say, slowly, trying to find the right word. "More than just the job."

"You weren't just protecting a principal," you say. "You were— It was different because I'm different to you."

His jaw shifts and he can’t look at you. "Yes."

"And that's the part you couldn't calibrate."

"I've been in difficult situations. I've had principals I cared about in a professional sense. This was—" He stops again. He seems to keep running out of the sentence, which is unlike him, the man who chooses words with care and usually lands exactly where he means to. "You were hurt," he says finally. "I saw it. And everything else went."

You look at the careful, tired quality of his honesty. The way he's holding his own hands loosely on his knees, just sitting in what he's saying.

"Does it—" You choose the words. "Does it happen? In general. Is that something that—"

"No," he says, and it comes out certain. "No. In twelve years of doing this work, I have never lost control of a situation the way I lost control of that one. Not because I haven't been in dangerous situations. Because I've always been able to keep the distance." He looks at you steadily. "You are the variable, not the work."

"I'm the variable," you say.

"Yes," he says. “It became more difficult to maintain.”

"In general," you say. "Or specifically in Barcelona."

"Both," he says, and the honesty of it is simple and completely uncushioned.

Something you've been carrying since then — the fear-that-isn't-fear, the image of the narrow street, the three people it took, the way it had gone past the point of necessary — shifts very slightly.

You don't think it entirely vanishes. But it shifts, accommodated by the new information, fitted into the shape of a man who lost his control for a very specific reason and has been sitting with the knowledge of that without excusing it.

"Thank you," you say. "For saying it."

He looks slightly surprised. "I owe you more than—"

"You explained it without justifying it," you say. "Those are different things. You didn't tell me it was fine or that I shouldn't be bothered by it. You just told me what happened and took the responsibility for the part that went wrong." You look at him. "That matters."

He's quiet for a moment.

"I was terrified," he says, and it sounds like the truest version of several things at once. "When I saw your hand. When I understood what had happened. Everything I'd been trying to prevent for months had happened anyway and I—" He breathes. "I'm sorry. That's what I needed to say. I'm sorry for scaring you. Not for being there, not for any of the rest of it, but for the part where I lost the line, and you had to watch that."

"I know," you say.

"I mean it specifically," he says. "You specifically. Not as the principal. As the person you are."

"I know," you say again, and mean it differently this time.

"Okay," he says.

"Okay," you say.

You reach over and put your hand over his. He turns his hand under yours and holds it.

Neither of you says anything.

After a moment, you both reach for your wine glasses, and the sitting room settles back into the easier register of the earlier part of the evening, and the conversation finds its way to other things, and that is the end of it.

"Have you eaten?" he says, later on.

"I had crackers," you say.

"Before you drove here?"

"Yes."

He gives you the look. "I have food," he says. "If you want."

"You don't have to cook," you say.

"I know I don't have to," he says.

"I can get something delivered—"

"I have pasta, and I have the ingredients for the sauce May makes," he says. "It takes twenty minutes. It's better than delivery."

"You cook?”

"I cook," he says, simply, like this isn't information that somehow feels revolutionary. "Less so when it's just me, but I cook."

"Less so when it's just you," you repeat.

"Cooking for one is an exercise," he says. "Everything is too much or not enough."

You follow him into the kitchen because there's nowhere else to go in the flat and because the kitchen is where things happen, and this seems like a thing that's happening.

The kitchen is small — smaller than the one at the estate, smaller than your kitchen at your flat, the closeness of a London kitchen that was designed for efficiency rather than comfort. There's a window above the sink that looks at a wall, which is a very London window, and the counter space is limited enough that when you sit on the only available surface — the small stretch of counter beside the fridge — and Steve moves around the kitchen getting things out of cupboards, you're closer together than you'd be in any other configuration.

He doesn't seem to mind.

More than that, he moves around you, reaches past you for the olive oil without asking you to move, hands you things to hold without explanation, and treats your presence in his kitchen with comfort.

"Hold that," he says, handing you a can of tomatoes.

"Am I helping?" you say.

"You're in the way," he says. "Which is adjacent."

"I can move—"

"Stay where you are," he says firmly, reaching past your shoulder to the spice rack, close enough that you can feel the warmth of him, and your hand tightens slightly around the can of tomatoes.

He doesn't acknowledge it. He moves back to the stove.

"What's in May's sauce?" you ask.

"If I told you she'd lose her greatest leverage," he says.

"She doesn't know I exist."

He glances at you over his shoulder. "She knows you exist."

You smile at him. "You told her about me?"

"She asked about the assignment," he says, turning back to the pan. "I gave her information appropriate to what she asked."

"Which was?"

"Who the principal was." A pause. "And then she asked other things, and I gave her information appropriate to those, too."

"What other things?"

"Things I'm not going to tell you in my kitchen," he says, which is itself information, and you sit with it on the counter holding the can of tomatoes while he cooks and the kitchen smells of garlic and olive oil.

"I would like to know," you say.

"I know you would," he says.

"Steve."

"The sauce needs the tomatoes," he says.

You hand him the tomatoes.

—

You open a second bottle of wine because the first is finished, and this feels like a second-bottle evening. He tells you more about May, who sounds like the kind of person who would ask other things and receive the answers with absolute equanimity. 

You tell him about Dana, who had made an observation in December about the kitchen feeling different since July, and had not pressed for an explanation, which you describe and which makes him do the sound again. The low brief one. The almost-laugh.

"You're doing it again," you say.

"Doing what?"

"The thing where you almost laugh but stop yourself."

He turns from the stove. "I'm not stopping myself."

"You are," you say. "You've done it three times tonight. You get almost there and then you—" You make a small gesture.

"Okay," he says. "Fine. What would you like me to do about it?"

"Just laugh," you say. "Like a person."

"I am laughing like a person."

"You're laughing like someone who was told at some point that laughing freely in a professional setting was wrong and never figured out how to turn that off."

He stares at you for a moment. Then, unhurriedly, he turns back to the stove.

"That is an extremely specific observation," he says.

"I have eight months of data," you say.

"And now you're analysing it."

"I've always been analysing it," you say. "I was just more subtle about it when you were my bodyguard."

He makes a sound then. The full version. Low and genuine and surprised by itself, the laugh that didn't get stopped in time, and it fills the small kitchen in a way that does something to you, hearing it — the warmth of a sound you've been waiting for without knowing you were waiting.

You smile at your wine glass. He doesn't see it.

Or if he does, he doesn't say anything, just turns back to the sauce, and you sit on the counter. The kitchen smells of garlic, and the evening has gotten properly dark outside the wall-window, and the flat is warm and small and full of the particular texture of this.

Dinner is at the kitchen table because the sitting room doesn't have one. It's a small table, the kind that technically seats two and practically seats one and a half — close, knees almost touching, the plates taking up most of the available surface.

The pasta is good.

Genuinely good, something made by someone who knows what they're doing and isn't showing off about it, and you tell him so, and he accepts it the way he accepts things, without deflecting.

"May's recipe?" you ask.

"Adapted," he says.

"What did you change?"

"More garlic," he says. "She goes light on the garlic. I've never understood it."

"More garlic is always correct," you say.

He looks at you with a warmth that is very simple and very present. "Yes," he says. "Exactly."

You eat and talk, and the talking is different from the talking in the sitting room — lighter, somehow, the food giving it something to organise around, a conversational structure that keeps it from getting too pointed in any one direction. 

He listens to you talk absentmindedly with his fork in his hand and his eyes on you, and asks questions at exactly the right points, the questions that open things up rather than close them down.

He’s looking at you, and his eyes are sparkling, and he hasn’t taken a bite of his food in probably three minutes. You worry it’s going to go cold.

He reaches across the table.

Not for your hand — he reaches past your glass, straightens the salt shaker that's been sitting at a slight angle the whole meal, and retreats. A completely unnecessary adjustment to a salt shaker that wasn't causing anyone any problems.

You look at the salt shaker. You look at him.

"Was that necessary?" you say.

"It was crooked," he says, with perfect composure.

"It was off maybe a three-degree angle," you say.

"It was bothering me."

"Since when?"

"Since we sat down," he says. "I've been thinking about it."

"You've been thinking about the salt shaker?" you ask, in the tone of someone who doesn't believe a word of this.

"Among other things," he says, and the corner of his mouth is moving, and his eyes are doing the other thing, and you look at him across the small table in his small kitchen. The evening is full, and the pasta is great, and the wine is warm in your chest.

"Among other things," you say.

"Yes," he says.

You carry the plates to the sink.

He washes. You dry. This is the most domestic possible thing, and it happens without discussion, the natural division of two people who have been in proximity long enough to develop instincts about each other's preferences.

He washes efficiently, the way he does most things. You dry with the tea towel that was hanging over the oven handle, which is the obvious tea towel, and you stand side by side at the sink in the small kitchen, and it is the most ordinary thing and also somehow everything.

"You said you didn't know how to act without the boundaries," he says, after a while, handing you a plate.

"Earlier," you say. "Yes."

"Do you still not know?"

You take the plate and dry it and think about it. "I'm figuring it out," you say. "It's easier tonight than I expected."

"Why?"

"Because you're different here," you say. "You're—" You look for the words. "Less managed. You laugh. You have opinions about garlic and salt shakers, and you cook pasta. You did an impression of your principal that made me actually laugh, and you're—" You stop.

"I'm what?" 

"More," you say. "You're just more. Of yourself. And I'm adjusting."

He hands you the last thing — a pan, still warm — and turns off the tap, leans against the counter beside the sink, close, the small kitchen putting you within arm's reach of each other naturally, without either of you navigating toward it.

"This is the part that's strange," he says. "For me."

"What part specifically?"

"The part where I don't have to—" He pauses. "Where I'm not upholding anything. Where talking to you doesn't have a function except talking to you." He looks sideways at you. "I've been thinking about how to be around you without the job, and I didn't know it would feel this much like—"

"Like what?" 

"Like breathing," he says on an exhale. "Like something I don't have to think about."

You put the pan down on the counter.

You turn and look at him properly, half-facing him in the small kitchen with the tea towel still in your hands, and he's already looking at you, has been looking at you, and the distance between you is less than a foot and has been less than a foot for most of the last twenty minutes without either of you doing anything about it.

"Steve," you say.

"Yeah," he says.

"The salt shaker wasn't crooked," you say.

His mouth moves. "No," he says. "It wasn't."

"Okay," you say.

"Okay," he says.

He looks at your face. He does this with the quality he has — directly, the full attention, the thing that has always felt like more than looking. And then his hand comes up, and he tucks a piece of hair back from your face with two fingers, the lightest possible touch, and leaves his hand there at your jaw, warm and unhurried.

Your breath shifts.

"Is this okay?" he says.

"Yes," you say, and mean it.

He closes the distance.

It's not what you expect, and it's exactly what you expect — the same time, the same moment. It's quiet and deliberate, the way he does most things, no rush to it, his mouth against yours with patience like he’s thought about this for a long time and isn’t going to waste it by doing it quickly. His thumb traces a small, slow arc along your jaw. You drop the towel, and your hand finds the front of his shirt without deciding to.

He pulls back just slightly. Checks. The way he always checks.

You close the distance again.

This time it's softer and longer and his other hand finds your waist and you think, distantly, that this is what it was always going to feel like — inevitable like the way things that have been true for a long time and are only now being allowed to be true, just the particular rightness of two things that fit coming together after a long time of being kept apart.

When you finally separate, it's gradual.

You look at each other. You're still holding his shirt. He's still holding your jaw.

"Hi," you say.

Something does what it does on his face — the slow warm version, the full one, the one you've been cataloguing for months from what you'd once thought was a safe distance.

"Hi," he says.

Neither of you moves.

This seems to be a theme — the two of you in a room together, neither of you moving, some invisible current running between you that you'd both been pretending for months was something else. Professionalism. Circumstance. The natural intensity of a situation with high stakes. You'd been very creative about what you called it. You'd had to be.

His thumb is still moving. That small, slow arc. Like he's not aware he's doing it, or like he is and has decided he's done pretending he doesn't want to.

"Steve," you say, and then don't know what comes after it.

"I know," he says.

Which is the thing about him. He usually does.

You look at his face — properly, the way you've been careful not to, all these months. The line of his jaw. The particular steadiness in his eyes that you'd catalogued as professional once and then revised, quietly, to something else. 

You don't say you're nervous. It seems important, for reasons you can't entirely articulate, not to say it. As if saying it will make it larger than it is. As if the shape of the evening will change if you admit out loud that your heart is doing something irregular against your ribs.

He sees it anyway.

He always sees it. That's his job — reading rooms, reading people, clocking the thing that's slightly off before it becomes a problem. You'd resented it sometimes, early on, the feeling of being legible to him when he remained so carefully, professionally unreadable. It had felt like an imbalance. It probably still is. But right now, with his hand at your jaw and his eyes on you in the quiet, you find you mind it less than you expected.

"You don't have to be nervous," he says, low and careful.

"I'm not nervous."

A beat. He doesn't argue. He looks at you very steadily and simply waits.

"I'm not," you say again, smaller.

"Okay," he says.

"I'm really not."

"Okay," he says again, the same way, the same tone, which means he is allowing you this completely and doesn’t believe a word of it, and something about that combination makes your chest ache in a way you're not prepared for.

"You always let me say something that isn't true and don't correct me."

Something shifts in his expression. Softens, maybe, though that's not quite the right word for it — it's more like the professional layer going briefly transparent, something underneath showing through. "It's not my job to correct you," he says. "Not about that."

"What is your job, then? Right now."

He looks at you for a moment. Then he says, quietly, "Making sure you're alright."

You look at him. You think about all the versions of that sentence you've heard from him. Stay close. Don't open the door. I've got you. All the iterations of the same basic thing, which is that he pays attention, and he’s careful, and he doesn’t let things go wrong if he can help it. You'd understood it as professional once. You'd understood it as dedication, as competence, as someone who takes their work seriously.

You understand it differently now.

"I'm alright," you say. And then, because it's true, and because the evening seems to have become the kind of evening where the truth is allowed: "I'm just — this is the first time."

He goes still. Not alarmed — more like recalibrating. "First time," he repeats, carefully.

"I mean — not—" You make a small, frustrated gesture. "The first time with you. First time this. First time any of this is — real. And I just—" You stop. Try again. "I've thought about it a lot. And I didn't know what it would actually feel like, and now I do, and it's—"

"A lot," he offers.

"Yeah." You exhale. "It's a lot."

He doesn't say anything for a moment. He just looks at you, and you let him, because you're tired of being careful about what you let him see. Then he moves his hand from your face — slowly, deliberately — and takes your hand instead, and just holds it. His hand is bigger than yours. Warm. Completely steady in a way that makes you aware, by contrast, of the slight tremor in your own fingers.

He notices. Of course he does. He doesn't say anything about it.

"Come here," he says instead.

His bedroom is the way you would have guessed, if you'd let yourself guess. Spare. Ordered. Nothing on the surfaces that doesn't need to be there. A single lamp on the nightstand, already on — the low, warm kind.

The bed is made with the corners tucked. There are no decorative pillows. There’s another book on the nightstand, face down, which is the most personal thing in the room and somehow the detail that stays with you.

He sits on the edge of the bed, looks up at you and waits.

The way he can hold a position, physical or otherwise, without it costing him anything. You've always found it slightly unnerving. Right now it's something else.

You sit beside him.

Not quite touching. Close.

Your hands are still loosely linked between you, resting on the mattress. You look at them — his hand around yours, his thumb not moving now — and you think about all the times you've been in proximity to him and pretended not to notice the proximity. 

All the car rides. All the briefings. All the times he'd put a hand briefly at your back, guiding, and you'd catalogued the weight of it and told yourself it was nothing and known, on some level you didn't look at directly, that it wasn't.

"You're thinking very loudly," he says.

"I'm not."

"You are." Observational. "Your face does a specific thing."

"It does not."

"It does." He says it simply, not as a challenge. "It's not a bad thing. I like that I can tell."

You look at him. Something about the admission — small, unguarded — does something to the nervous thing in your chest. Rearranges it slightly.

"What does it look like?" you ask. "The specific thing."

He considers. "Like you're solving something," he says. "Working something out. You get a line here—" he reaches up and touches, very gently, the space between your brows— ", and you go a little still. And then whatever you were working out either resolves or you decide to leave it for later."

"You've been watching me for a long time," you say.

"Yeah," he says. 

"I'm still nervous," you say.

You don't know why you say it. Maybe because the room is quiet enough to be honest in. Maybe because he's been honest, and it seems only fair. Maybe because you're tired of holding it, the pretending, the I'm fine, I'm not nervous, everything is normal, which has been the primary activity of the last several months.

He looks at you. Doesn't say I know, though he could, though he clearly does.

"It’s alright," he says instead. "You don't have to not be."

Something in your shoulders releases. A little. Almost involuntary.

He brings your linked hands up slowly and presses his mouth to your knuckles, a press, warm and deliberate, his eyes on yours the whole time — and holds it for a moment and then lowers your hands back down and doesn't let go.

"Nothing's going to go wrong," he says. "I'm not going anywhere. There's no rush." A pause. "We don't have to do anything."

"I want to," you say immediately.

Something in his expression shifts. "I know," he says. "I know you do. I want to be clear that you don't have to."

"I know I don't have to."

"I know you know." He says it gently, patient in the way he is about most things. "I'm just saying it so it's been said."

You look at him. The lamp. The book face-down on the nightstand. His hands, which you have thought about — you realise now, fully admit now — for considerably longer than you'd been willing to say.

"Okay," you say. "It's been said."

He almost smiles. "Okay."

You lean in first this time.

It feels different from the first time. This is quieter. More room in it. He makes a soft sound when your mouth meets his, and his hand comes up again to your face, to your jaw, that same place, and you understand that it's going to keep going back there, that it's where his hands want to be, and something about that knowledge settles warm in your sternum.

He kisses you slowly. With considerable patience. Like he's making good on something.

His other hand finds your waist, and then the small of your back, and draws you slightly closer without hurry, and you go, and you're still nervous, but it's different now — lighter, less like dread and more like the feeling of standing at the edge of something and choosing to step off. 

You bring your hand up to the side of his neck and feel his pulse there, steady and unhurried, and yours is not steady and not unhurried, but he doesn't say anything about that.

He pulls back a fraction. Forehead almost against yours. Checking.

"Still okay?" Low. Private. Just for the room.

"Still okay," you say. Your voice comes out softer than you intend.

He kisses you again.

This one goes longer. He's unhurried — like it has more room in it than it usually does, like the space between seconds has expanded to fit something larger. You stop thinking about what you look like or what you're doing with your hands or whether you're doing this right. 

You stop, somewhere in the middle of it, being nervous. Not because the nervousness resolves into something else but because it simply gets crowded out, the way noise gets crowded out when something takes your full attention.

His thumb is doing the thing again. The slow brush. You lean into it without deciding to.

He makes a quiet sound. Low and involuntary, almost. It catches you somewhere central, and you bring your hand up from his neck to the back of his head without thinking, and he tilts into it, just slightly, and you think — distantly, because you're not quite capable of full thoughts — that you have never had someone's complete attention like this. Not the professional kind. The other kind.

When you separate, it's slow again. It's always slow with him. The city is still outside. The lamp is still on. His forehead rests against yours and you stay there, breathing, his hand at your face and your fingers in the short hair at the base of his skull, and neither of you says anything for a moment.

"Okay," he says, eventually. The word seems to mean several things.

"Yeah," you say.

"You're still thinking," he says.

"Constantly," you say. "It's a problem I have."

"What are you thinking about?"

You consider lying, or deflecting, or making it a joke. You consider all of these things and then don't do any of them. "That this is real," you say. "I keep — I keep landing on that. That it's real."

He looks at you. Very steadily. "It's real," he confirms.

"I know."

"I've wanted—" He stops. Starts again, and you realise you've almost never heard him do that, restart a sentence, which means this one costs something. "I've wanted this for a long time," he says. "I want to make sure you know that. That this isn't—" A breath. "That I'm not going anywhere."

You look at him. The lamp. The book. His hands.

"Okay," you say.

"Okay?"

"I believe you," you say. Which is true. Which is maybe the most frightening thing about the evening — not the kissing, not the nervous thing, but how completely and without reservation you believe him.

He looks at you for a moment, and then he does something — a full smile, the warm, slow version, the one you've been cataloguing from what you'd once thought was a safe distance — and it turns out that being close to it is different from cataloguing it. It turns out it does something different when it's aimed at you from a foot away in a quiet room.

"Come here," he says again, quieter, and opens his arm. You shift so you’re in his lap, your legs over each side of his waist, and he leans against the wall behind him. He wraps around you and settles, and it's that easy, and somehow that's the part that gets you — how easy it is, how right, like this is where you've always been supposed to fit.

His chin rests on the top of your head. His breathing is even.

"Still nervous?" he asks.

You think about it honestly. "A little," you say. "Less."

"Less is good."

"Yeah."

Outside, the city does what it always does. The lamp casts the same light it was casting before, which feels strange — that the room looks the same when the room is entirely different. You’re aware of the weight of his arms, the warmth of him, the slow and steady rise and fall of his chest.

"Steve," you say.

"Mm."

"The book on your nightstand."

A pause. "What about it?"

"What is it?"

Another pause, slightly longer, which means he's deciding something. "History," he says. "Fairly dry. I like something that doesn't require a lot of—" He stops.

"Something you can put down," you supply.

"Yes." And then, quieter: "Usually."

You sit with that for a moment. The idea of him in this room in the evenings, picking up the dry history book and putting it down again. The version of him that exists when there's no job, no function, no professional frame. You've been trying not to think about that version for months. You let yourself think about it now.

"I have questions," you say.

"I know."

"About you. The—" You gesture vaguely. "Non-professional you."

"I know," he says again, and you can hear something in it, a warmth, a patience. "We have time."

It lands quietly. We have time. As if the evening is not a single event but a beginning. As if he is already past the question of whether there will be more evenings, has already folded it in as a given, is simply waiting for you to catch up.

You press a little closer. He adjusts his arm.

"Okay," you say, and you mean it the way he meant it — in the multiple-things sense. Yes, and I understand, and I think I believe that too, and I'm still nervous but less, and you can keep talking or we can be quiet, and either is fine.

He seems to understand all of it.

"Okay," he says back.

You stay there, in the quiet, in the particular rightness of things finally being allowed to be what they are — and you think that this is the part no one tells you about, the part after the moment, the soft and unhurried settling of two people figuring out what comes next.

You find, somewhat to your surprise, that you're not nervous anymore.

[papercranesandinkstains]

Wishful Dreaming Masterlist:

Summary: Heading into college, you were looking to spread your wings. Make some friends. Start a new life. What you aren't going to do? Let a boy run your life ever again. Even if that boy is Steve Harrington.

Pairing: Modern!College!Steve Harrington x Reader

AN: A huge shout out to my queen @onelonelybitch for always supporting me, even when I just keep having ideas and already have a million other stories! We are on this Steve ride together!

One

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Taglist is open!

[lacyrry-deactivated20260710]

𝐟𝐨𝐨𝐥 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮

𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

⟡ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 - steve harrington x byers!reader

⟡ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 - you and steve harrington have been best friends since third grade, inseparable and easy. he’s secretly loved you for years. after you both face serious heartbreak, you two grow closer. but as your brother's enemy, steve and jonathan draw a hard line. you’re off-limits. but steve can’t stay away. he keeps trying anyway.

⟡ 𝐭𝐰 - explicit smut (18+ mdni) • strong language • alcohol • perceived cheating • sibling conflict • jealousy • angst • mild violence

⟡ 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 - @ophirei @idontread4 @borhapgirlforlife19 @4ria790 @sexyvixen7 @ashsallyblue2 @avengersfan25 @kathypellar @ddenniiee-729 @febru4rystars @d4yanalav3nder00 @g4ys0n @olivia21blunt @urfavcousin333 @xceafh @whichwitchisthebitch @ilovebooksxx @scream-still-screaming @proooof @scaramou @ribeiroteresa97 @1luvjo3 @bbs-18 @bluegardenn @harringtonswift @shesjustanerd @angelicp0etry @lili-tate @kravitzwhore @1011008 @unicronfarts @adv3rs1ty @ciggrunner @dumbdumblolipoppop @anti-3lvva @cecelliia @sired4urmama @hightoxins @rvvencrux @downbad4bil @napofaprincess @adhxmoony @literal-tv-menace @stydiaforeverbitchezz @stoneyggirl2 @kalunacow @pzxielz

⟡ 𝐚/𝐧 - the titles might change - i used 80's song names for most of them just because 😭. also, theres not much upside down mentions in this, it doesnt really go by the show!!

series playlist! ^^

𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐥

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 0 - third grade promises

-

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 1 - i'll be (your crying shoulder)

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 2 - cheater, cheater

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 3 - side by side

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 4 - kiss me kiss me

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 5 - i just called to say i love you

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 6 - more than words

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 7 - waiting for a girl like you

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 8 - oh, brother jon

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 9 - i was made for lovin' you

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 10 - the ex girlfriend

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 11 - never tear us apart

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 12 - the approval

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 13 - i think we're alone now

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 14 - hopelessly devoted to you

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 15 - we belong together

[loveshotzz]

If You’re Too Shy Let Me Know

steve harrington x fem!reader two part series master list

summary: you’re an observer of sorts, a wall flower, and the last hire made by the infamous runaway Jimmy ‘fast hands’ Lee. It was a job you took on a whim, a decision made without much thought. You weren’t expecting to ever share a room with Steve Harrington again, but when it starts to happen five days out of the week, you certainly weren’t expecting the now quiet and brooding former king to take up so much space in your mind.

wc: 28k

warnings: 18+ slow burn, soft soul touching smut, takes place a few months after season five not exactly canon accurate (he still has his beamer), steve is picking up the pieces of his life, reader has no knowledge of upside down, moved back after the military disappears, touch and love starved steve (reader is similar), mild angst, lots of yearning, mentions of holiday sadness, smoking, one bed trope, p in v van sex, scar kissing & touching (steve has scars).

✨ part one | ✨part two

[moonstoneandmoonlight]

BLINDING LIGHTS | steve harrington

PART ONE

A year ago, Steve Harrington saved your life and now? you don't talk to each other. But he's the only one to notice how you flinch at the lights.

pairing: steve harrington x byers!reader words: 6.4k contains: season one and season two steve, slow burn, fluff/angst, descriptions of blood and violence, traumatised reader (mention of anxiety and pstd), description of panic attacks, previously injured reader, scarred reader, vulnerable!steve, canon level violence, mention of blood, explicit language.

author's note: this was initially only meant to be one part but i couldn't stop writing. part two will be soon. also had to take some creative liberties with the stranger things timeline including having nancy and steve break up before season two starts and also aging up jonathan so he and reader are the same age as steve.

to be added to my taglist

November, 1983.

"What am I doing?" Steve Harrington mutters to himself as he approaches the small, rundown house he knew belonged to the Byers' family. "What the fuck am I doing?"

Steve 'the hair' Harrington had come to apologise—to actually apologise—to Jonathan Byers. He had been an ass. He knew that now. He knew shouldn’t have let Tommy and Carol call Nancy a whore and let them graffiti those words outside the Hawk Movie Theatre for all to see. And he certainly should not have said those things about Jonathan's family and called him what he had. Steve felt that he fully deserved the black eye and split lip that Jonathan had given him. And so, after ditching Tommy and Carol (and leaving them stranded at the gas station), Steve came to the Byers’ house to apologise for his behaviour.

What Steve didn't expect was Nancy being the one to answer the door. But he decides not to question it—too focused on wanting to apologise for his behaviour and not wanting to let his slight jealousy cloud his judgement. He wanted to do something right for once.

"I messed up, okay! I messed up—" Steve stutters, panicking a little now as Nancy kept trying to close the door.

"Steve," she says through gritted teeth, raising her hand to try and stop him. "You need to—"

"—hey, what happened to your hand?" Steve asks, his voice soft, gentle and concerned when he noticed the bandage covering her hand. "Is that blood?"

Nancy tries, she really tries, to stop Steve from entering the house but Steve was worried about his girlfriend. Worried about what was going on and so he forces his way in and—

"What is—what the—"

The ceilings in living room, the kitchen and hallway were covered in colourful Christmas lights. The sight would have been kind of beautiful, had Steve not been deeply concerned. And when he sees Jonathan with a baseball bat with nails hammered into it and you—Jonathan's twin sister, the girl who had barely spoke a word in school—with a goddamn axe. Steve was sure that you were all on some serious hardcore drugs. And the smell of gasoline? Well, that was the cherry on top of this fucked up cake.

Steve should had left then. Should have listened to his girlfriend yelling at him to go. But he didn't. Even when Nancy points Jim Hopper's gun at him, he still doesn't leave. And when the lights suddenly flicker and a literal monster claws its way out of the damn ceiling—he still doesn't leave. In fact, he's rooted to the spot. Wondering what the fuck he had gotten himself into. It's you who grabs his hand and forces him to move. You tell him to jump over a wire to avoid triggering the goddamn bear trap—which he does without question.

When you pull him into a bedroom and Nancy and Jonathan follow, he fully expects that thing to come in and rip you all to shreds. But two minutes pass and...nothing.

Jonathan went first to check if that thing was gone. Then Nancy. Then you.

And Steve?

Steve finally decided to see sense and he ran.

His hands shook as he pulled out his car keys from his jean pocket. They fell to the floor. Steve scrambled to pick them back up and when he managed to finally open the door to his beamer, he looked back at the house for a split second.

He sees the lights flickering through the windows. The colours dance across his face as he freezes. And—he couldn't leave. Not when he heard someone screaming from inside.

He didn't think. He just moved.

And thank god that he did.

Because what he sees when he opens the front door would haunt him for weeks after.

Jonathan on the floor—seemingly close to losing consciousness. Nancy struggling to reload the revolver. And you? You were beneath the monster, screaming in pain. Your jeans were soaked in your own blood, a clear gaping wound on your thigh from that thing's deep claw marks. Your axe just out of reach from your fingertips.

Steve doesn't even remember picking up the nail bat. He just remember thinking—she's can't die. You can't die.

The sound of nails smacking against the fleshy monster's skin is sickening. But he don't hesitate. He didn’t know what that thing was. He had no idea what was going on—why his girlfriend, Jonathan Byers and you were involved with monsters. But he knew he didn’t want you to die. Couldn’t let you die. It takes all his strength to yank the bat back for another hit. He twirls the bat like he was playing some fucked up game of baseball before he's smacking the creature again. And again. And again. And again. Until it staggers back into the beartrap and Nancy and Jonathan lit that son-of-a-bitch on fire.

But Steve doesn't stick around to watch it burn.

Because you were bleeding out and he didn't know how long you had.

“Hey, hey, don’t move too much, okay?” Steve says gently as he kneels down beside you. Your blood already staining his jeans. He barks at Jonathan to get a towel while you cry out in pain. He presses his hand down on your wound to stem the bleeding. “You’re going to be okay, (y/n). You’re going to be fine. Just focus on me, yeah? Don’t close your eyes. Just keep looking at me.”

The colours from the Christmas lights above you blur into one and it takes everything to focus on Steve's face. But you do.

And you focus on him as Nancy hurries to grab Jonathan's car keys. As both Steve and your brother help you into a car that you vaguely recognise to be Jonathan’s. They lay you in the backseat, your head resting against Steve's lap as he tries to keep you awake.

You don't remember the drive to the hospital. All you remember is how scared you were. How weak you felt. How Steve's hand in yours (which you don't remember grabbing) had felt so warm. You remembering asking him if you were going to die. Remember telling him quietly you didn't want to die. That you didn’t know if Will was okay yet.

You certainly don't remember arriving at the hospital. Don't remember Steve carrying you while Jonathan and Nancy tried to find someone to help. Don't remember the look Jonathan's face as you were laid on a stretcher. Don't remember how worried Nancy had looked.

But you do remember how—for a split second—Steve Harrington had refused to let go of you.

October, 1984.

History was the only class Steve had with you.

You sat in front of him, taking more notes than he thought was necessary. Always paying attention. Being smart and all that.

To everyone else, they would think you and Steve had never interacted because well, you didn’t. You smiled at him politely sometimes but other than that? You didn’t acknowledge each other’s existence.

That didn't mean you didn't think about what had happened last year. In fact, you thought about it all the time. Because the night you had nearly died? Well, it was hard not to think about.

If Steve was honest, the night affected him too. A lot, actually. You asking him tearfully if you were going you. You then crying and saying you didn't want to die. Fucking hell. He thought about it nearly every day.

Maybe that's what you hadn't talked in nearly a year.

He knew you felt embarrassed that he had witnessed you falling apart like that. But, if he was honest, it was mostly his fault for not trying anyway. He had saved your life, you would quite literally be dead without him and he hadn’t bothered to even attempt to be your friend. He felt like an asshole. He knew he was. Hell, Nancy had made that pretty clear when she dumped him just before Spring Break. Steve just didn’t know how to be a good friend. He was so used to people just wanting to be friends with him, he didn’t know how to be there for people. Not in a way that mattered anyway.

Steve was just wondering how much longer that this class would be when the light above you began to flicker.

He sees you freeze. Hears the hitch of your breath. He sees you grip your pen a little tighter.

Steve's on edge immediately—who could blame him? But as he looks around the classroom, he observes that the only light flickering was the one situated directly above you. If it was a demorogon, all the lights would be flickering. He breathes a little easier. Just a faulty light. That was all.

But you? You’re still frozen. Still clearly terrified.

And then—

“Ms. Norway?” You ask in a small, timid voice, your hand shooting up nervously, “can I—can I go to the bathroom?”

Ms. Norway doesn’t question it. You were such a model student that Steve wasn’t surprised. She’d probably let you kick up your feet and light up a cigarette if you wanted to. She just smiles—Ms. Norway hardly ever smiled—and lets you go before droning on about…well, Steve wasn’t sure. He barely listened in this class.

You leave quickly. Steve barely has time to think of a way to check you were okay.

And Steve? Well, he lets you go. Hating himself for it. You don't come back for the remaining half an hour.

But Steve thinks about it all day. Looks for you in the hallways.

He gets smacked in the face by a few basketballs during practice because he's too busy remembering the way you froze. Like you were back there.

He finds himself actively looking for you.

Because he can still see it—you bleeding out, the lights flickering in the Byers' home and you telling him you didn’t want to die—

The guilt's back as he heads to his car—his eyes darting around the car park for a glimpse of you.

But it was like you had disappeared after history. And that? It makes him feel even worse.

He doesn't see you again until your next History lesson.

The light is still faulty. Still flickering and so you pick another seat. It doesn't make a difference. Your leg bounces nervously. You stare determinedly at anywhere but the damn light—

"Hey."

Steve's voice makes you jump. Genuinely. You look up, eyes wide and confused.

"It's just me, Byers'" Steve says with an overconfident smile as he takes the seat beside you without asking. He's trying to act like he hadn't been avoiding you for a year. Trying to ignore the guilt and shame he felt.

You look at Steve, your heart hammering in your chest as he leans back in his chair casually.

"What are you—"

But before you could finish your sentence and ask Steve what he was doing, why he was sitting next to you—Ms. Norway begins the class. And you being you? Well, you shut your mouth instantly.

It takes all of your energy to concentrate on the class. Your focus keeps dipping between Steve and that damn flickering light that you could still see out of the corner of your eye.

It was making you restless. Your leg continued to bounce. You were tapping your pen against the tabletop. You weren't even making notes like you usually would. Steve couldn't help but notice. It was impossible not to notice really.

But you couldn't help it. The image of the demogorgon was still fresh in your mind. You could almost feel its claws slashing through your flesh. Still smell the coppery scent of blood.

"You alright?" Steve murmurs, leaning forward to rest his elbows against the desk, voice low.

You nod, even though it was clear that you weren't.

Steve, of course, doesn't buy it. But he remains quiet. Unsure of how to help but desperately wanting to do so.

"You can talk to me, you know?" Steve whispers, his arm gently nudging yours. The sudden touch makes you flinch and before you know what you're doing, you're pushing away from your desk and getting to your feet.

"I'm s-sorry," you blurt out, your hands as shaky as your voice as you grab your bag. You don't look at Ms. Norway—and you certainly don't look at Steve as you rush out of the classroom. Ms. Norway calls your name but the door's already slammed behind you.

"Those Byers' freaks are fucking weird," Tommy H mutters a few tables over.

And Steve? Well, he reacts on instinct.

His head whips around to glare at his former best friend with disdain and something like loathing in his eyes.

"Don't you fucking talk about her like that," Steve spits out.

“Harrington! Sit back down!”

Steve hadn't even realised that he had stood up. He was too busy scowling at Tommy to register him moving.

"The fuck you say to me?" Tommy snaps back, but Steve's already grabbing his own bag from beneath the table.

"Harrington! Don't you dare—"

The door slamming behind him echoes throughout the hallway, drowning out whatever Ms. Norway was about to say.

Steve didn't know what he was doing. Why he had just snapped at Tommy like that. Why he had stood up for you like that. Why he cared so fucking much.

He didn't know where he was going. Didn't know where you could have gone. All he knew was that he needed to check on you.

You couldn't stop shaking. Your hands—your entire body really—felt as though it didn't belong to you. Because though you tried, the tremors in your hands didn't stop. Your heart keep hammering on as though attempting to flee from its home your chest. Your breathing was erratic and out of control.

"Fuck," you exclaim, pacing the girls bathroom frantically as you tried to control your breathing. Tried to calm down. "Not now—fuck, please not now—"

"Byers?!"

You let out a noise of frustration that you couldn't stop. You were losing control—in the midst of a panic attack and Steve Harrington barging in was the very last thing that you needed.

But Steve was already walking into the girls' bathroom. Finding you leaning over the sink, breathing frantically.

"You, um, you good?" He asks, scratching the back of his neck uncomfortably because now he was here? In front of you—he was realising how little he had thought this through.

"Do I look good, Steve?!" You snap back at him. "Just—just go. Please."

You say it with such anger that Steve knows he should listen to you. Should walk out of the girls' bathroom and not look back. But seeing the way your hands shake—the same hands he had held while you were scared and bleeding out—Steve discovered that he couldn't leave you alone like this.

"No," he says stubbornly, taking a few steps closer to you and placing a gentle hand on your back. His touch makes you jump again but he doesn't pull away. Keeps it there. You find it grounds you. Just a little. "Just...breathe slowly, yeah?"

"I'm fucking trying," you mutter back harshly, your fingers gripping the edge of the sink basin so hard your knuckles turn white. Steve notices. Starts to rub your back a little.

"I know but—just keep trying, yeah?"

You bite back another snappy retort and nod. Your eyes closing in concentration as you focus entirely on your breathing. On Steve's hand rubbing your back gently. On what you could feel and hear in the moment—the coolness of the basin, the sound of water leaking from the faulty tap and Steve's hand on your back.

"You're doing great," Steve murmurs quietly.

Again, you just nod and you count down slowly in your head.

And eventually, your breathing evens out. Your hands stop trembling. Your heartbeat slows.

Only then do you open your eyes.

Steve is still looking you—in fact, unbeknownst to you, he hadn't taken his eyes off of you the entire time.

"You good?" He asks, those warm brown eyes full of concern.

You nod, not looking at him in embarrassment as you release your grip on the sink and rub your hands over your jean-clad thighs. Wincing when you realise you were subconsciously rubbing over where the damn monster had scarred you for life.

"That light was just faulty, you know?" Steve says quietly, watching you closely. Noticing your wince.

You knew that. Of course you knew logically that the light was faulty. That no demogorgons were coming to attack you in the middle of history class. But you couldn't help it. Your body couldn't differentiate between a flickering light and almost dying again.

"I know," you say quietly. "I just—I felt like...like I was still there."

"Hey. You're okay," Steve reassures you gently. Hand still on your back, rubbing up and down it soothingly. It made you think about your mom. How she used to rub your back to coax you to sleep when you were younger. "You're okay."

You want to tell him that you’re not okay. That you haven’t felt okay in nearly a year. That you couldn’t stand to look at the scar on your thigh. That you couldn’t sleep without a nightlight. That the feeling of dread had settled in your chest and refused to leave. But all you can do is nod and try to breathe.

“I just—I get…I get this feeling that—that something awful is going to—to happen again,” you say quietly, not entirely sure why you were telling Steve this. "And the light—"

"Hey," Steve hushes you gently. So gently. Just like he had been with you in the hospital. "I get it. I get scared too."

Your eyes meet his—your breath catches and you feel your eyes sting, just a little.

"Really?" It's barely a whisper but Steve hears it—hears you.

"Yeah," he breathes, "I get nightmares a lot."

The way he says it makes you feel as though he hadn't told anyone that before. The way he looks away from you as though embarrassed. How for a moment, his hand stills on your back.

"I can't sleep without a nightlight," you admit to him.

Steve looks at you for a long moment, brown eyes soft and studying you carefully. You wonder if he was about to laugh at you. If he was going to think you were ridiculous and childish. But somehow, you knew he wouldn't.

"Look d'you want to...to ditch school and grab some food?" Steve asks, finally removing his hand from your back to watch your expression carefully. You find you miss his touch. You decide not to dwell on that.

"Ditch school?" You repeat, eyes widening a little. "Steve—I've never done that. Not since Will—my mom would freak out—"

"C'mon Byers," Steve encourages, nudging you with his arm. "You're in no state to continue with school today. Plus, you can totally blame it on me."

You look at Steve, unsure. You know you shouldn't—your mom would be worried sick. It would affect your near perfect attendance record. You didn't want to get into trouble.

But..

The panic attack had thrown you off. You felt like a livewire, buzzing with something in your veins you wanted to leave. You knew you couldn't continue with the rest of the school day like nothing had happened.

"I dunno, Steve," you reply thickly, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth. "We're not—we're not even that close..."

Steve falters then—just for a second. Because he hated that you were right. That he hadn't pushed through the uncomfortableness that he felt. That he hadn't bothered to try.

"I know," Steve says finally, his jaw tense and eyes full of regret. "And that—that's on me. Totally a Harrington fuck up there."

You let out a breath of laughter, unable to stop yourself. And that makes Steve smile. He nudges you again.

"See—made you laugh. Imagine what I can do over a burger and a shake," He teases, smiling at you—feeling a little smug that he had finally made you smile.

"Fine," you say after a few moments. "But I will blame you if we get caught."

Steve nearly pumps the air in victory. He's smiling wide and grabbing your bag from the floor.

"I'll take that," he says, grabbing your hand and tugging towards the door.

Burger Quest was surprisingly quiet. Granted, it was barely eleven in the morning and it was a Wednesday. You were so used to it being packed with people when you and Jonathan would take Will and his friends that it was a little strange to see a grand total of ten customers in the restaurant.

"You been here before?" Steve asks you, peering over the top of his menu to watch you.

"Yeah. Come here with Will sometimes."

Steve nods, eyes flickering back down to his menu for a brief second before he's looking back at you.

"How is Will?"

You look up at Steve then because—well, it wasn't an easy question to answer.

"He's not the same," you say finally. "He's Will but he's...yeah...not the same."

It's quiet then. Steve orders a double cheeseburger, you order a plain burger. Steve further insists on splitting fries and a shake. You succumb pretty quickly as Steve offers to pay. But after that? You aren't quite sure what to say. You fiddle with your necklace and watch a nearby toddler mashing up a couple of fries in her hands. You watch her as she squeals in joy, shoving the fried potatoey goodness into her mouth with a bright smile. Something in your gut twists at the sight—the reminder of the childhood innocence you had lost throughout the years.

"Do you have anyone to talk to about it?" Steve asks you, pulling you away from your thoughts about your dad, about Will, about the damn demogorgon that nearly ripped you to shreds.

"Hm? About what?" You query, tapping your fingers nervously. Steve notices. He doesn't comment.

"About what you went through," Steve explains. "I mean—you nearly died. Surely you talk to Joyce—I mean, your mom about it."

You falter. Chew the inside of your mouth and shake your head.

"No," you admit. "She—she's got enough on her plate with what happened to Will."

Steve looks at you—a look of slight disbelief on his face.

"What about Jonathan?" Steve tries to look neutral at the mention of your brother—but Jonathan was dating his ex, Steve couldn't help the slight face he pulled. It would have made you laugh had you been having another conversation. But you remained stoic and aloof, tapping away on the table still.

"No—Jonathan...he...he's busy."

"With Nancy?"

"He's happy," you say finally. "And I don't want him to worry—"

"(y/n)," Steve interjects, leaning a little over the table to look at you carefully—you chose to ignore how that makes you feel. "You went through something traumatic. Like—really traumatic."

You shift, leaning back on your side of the booth and hugging yourself a little as a means of comfort and protection. It was subconscious. You had done it ever since you overheard that first fight between your parents.

"I know," you murmur, though you're not looking at Steve as you say it.

"You need to talk to someone about this," Steve insists. "You can't—can't be having panic attacks and keeping it to yourself. Your family should know—"

"—Steve, with all due respect, you haven't spoken to me in like nearly a year," you say, a little more harshly than intended but he was pushing you a little more than you wished to be pushed right now. "So, you can't really tell me what I can nor can't do when it comes to this."

Steve looks for a second as though he was going to argue—but you were saved from more of his opinion by the arrival of your food.

You eat in almost silence—the only noise coming from the other customers and the radio that which played The Cure on repeat.

It was as you both reached for a fry at the same time that Steve spoke again.

"Listen, I'm not trying to tell you what to do," Steve tells you, pulling his hand away briefly so you could take a fry first. "I just—I don't want you to be struggling alone."

You take your time chewing on your fry, unsure of how to respond to him. You weren't sure why, but you felt like you could be honest with him. Which was something that you felt as though you could no longer be with your mom or your brothers.

"I just—I don't really have anyone else," you say finally. "I can't tell my friends because of the fact that legally, I can't. I can't tell my mom because she's too busy focusing on Will. I can't talk Jonathan because he—he's finally happy and Nancy would tell Jonathan if I went to her and Will—well, he's too young."

Steve listens to you—really listens. Hangs on every word and nods in understanding, those warm eyes watching you carefully.

"And—I guess, it's just difficult to talk about too," you continue, picking up another fry just to have something in your hands. "I mean—I could—I could have—"

You don't finish the sentence but Steve gets it. He understands without you needing to explain anymore.

"You forgot one person."

"Who?"

"Me."

You almost laugh—almost, until you realise Steve was being sincere. That he was looking at you with an unreadable expression on his face. One that weren't quite sure what to do with.

"I don't want to burden you after saving my life," you tell him.

Steve shakes his head. "Jesus (y/n)," he mutters, taking you by surprise as he reaches over and takes your hand. "You are not a burden. Not at all. You—you almost died and if—if you need someone to talk to about it, whatever it is—talk to me."

You continue to fidget with the fry in your hand, but your eyes do stay locked onto him. He means it. You can see it on his face that he does.

"Fine," you say finally—knowing that you likely would never take him up on his offer. That you were so determined to ignore that night, despite the fact you were reminded every time you came home—when you saw the dark stain in the carpet that your mom could not get out. Reminded every time you looked down at your bare thighs and saw the tender, scarred flesh from the demogorgon's claws. Reminded every time you saw a faulty light.

You could manage. You told yourself. You'd be fine.

You didn't reach out to Steve after that lunchtime at Burger Quest. In fact, you were beginning to tactically avoid him. For three whole days you were successful—somehow. Steve was surprisingly easy to hide from. He had such an aura about him that you could almost always tell when he was around the corner.

But then Friday came and you learnt that Steve Harrington did not enjoy being ignored.

"You're ignoring me."

"Fucking—"

You nearly turned and whacked Steve with your heaviest textbook but his hand is quick to grab your wrist before you could do so.

"Okay—maybe I shouldn't have snuck up to you at your locker like this," Steve relents as he lets go of your wrist with a wry smile.

"You think?" You huff, face flushed as you were finally caught.

"I would apologise but I have it on good authority that you have been in fact, avoiding me," Steve states, leaning by the wall against your locker, arms folded and watching you. Not caring that people were whispering—wondering what King Steve was doing talking to the Byers girl.

"Good authority?" You repeat before you slam your locker shut, brow raised at him.

"Yeah—my intuition."

"Steve—"

"No, I know what you're going to say," Steve interjects, stepping closer to you, his eyes not leaving yours. "I know you think that I didn't mean it. That I don't actually want to be there for you—but please believe me when I say that I—I want to try."

"Why?" You ask him quietly, your eyes lifting to meet his. "Why do you insist on trying to help—"

"Because I'm trying not to be an asshole anymore," Steve interrupts—his voice tight as though he was frustrated by trying to keep cool. It made you stop, made you forget whatever excuse you were about to concoct.

"You're not...that much of an asshole," you tell him finally, just above a whisper. "You just...have asshole tendencies."

"Asshole tendencies," Steve repeats with a small laugh and a shake of his head. "That's one way to put it."

It's quiet between you two again. Your eyes glance around the hallway—at the people openly whispering about the pair of you. It sets your teeth on edge. Steve pays no mind to it. He continues to look at you.

"Just—think about it, yeah?" Steve finishes off lamely, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly as he interprets your silence as a dismissal.

You don't say anything—you just nod as Steve looks at you for a final time before walking away.

You feel a little empty but you're not entirely sure why.

The next panic attack you have comes in the middle of the night. It was stupid, really. Your nightlight had broken. The one you couldn't sleep without. No matter how many times that you unplugged and plugged it back in—it wouldn't turn back on.

Jonathan was asleep in the next room—Nancy likely with him. Your mom and her new boyfriend Bob were also asleep and Will—well, he was your younger brother, this wasn't something you could bother him with.

And so, you take a few shuddering breaths—hands shaking and heart racing as you willed the feeling of dread that had settled in your chest to go away. But try as you might, it doesn't lessen. It expands and feels so overwhelming that for a few moments, you worry it may never go away. That you were doomed to shaking hands and unsteady breathing forevermore.

And so, you do something you had never thought you would.

You tiptoe out of your room, careful to avoid looking at the stain of your blood still etched into the carpet as you head into the kitchen. You're still breathing uneasy, hands still shake as you search for your mom's phonebook.

You find the small book tucked away in the back drawer, you grab it and head over to the phone. Hands still shaking as you dial the number.

"This is stupid," you murmur tearfully, wiping your eyes as you hold the phone up to your ear. It was late—too late. You were second guessing yourself already. You should hang up—

"Hmph, Harrington Residence," the sleepy yet unmistakeable voice of Steve Harrington greets you and you let out a small sob of relief.

"H-hey Steve," you manage to stutter out, sniffling down the line as you cling to the phone as though it was your only lifeline. "It's me—it's (y/n)."

There's silence—well, as silent as it could be with you crying down the phone before Steve finally speaks.

"You want me to come over?" He asks simply.

You nod—before realising that Steve could not see you.

"Ye-yeah," is all you say.

Steve arrives quietly less than five minutes later. You wait out on the front porch, unable to stop your legs from shaking and your tears from falling. You feel as though you can't breathe. And when Steve's beamer pulls up—you still haven't calmed. You were only wearing your flimsy pyjamas but you weren't thinking about the cold. You were thinking about the blood—the lights—the claws of the demorogon ripping apart your flesh—

"Hey, hey," Steve's hands cup your face gently—so gently that he held you as though you were something precious. "Focus on me, yeah? Focus on me—"

"My n-nightlight b-broke," you tell him through gasping breaths. "It's s-so dark, Steve. it's t-too dark—"

"Okay. Okay," he hushes you gently, thumb rubbing over the apple of your cheek to wipe away some of the tears that had fallen. "Want me to look at it?"

You sniffle and nod, feeling utterly pathetic as you allow Steve to take your hand. To help you to stand up.

You allow him to lead you inside. Let him lead you into your bedroom quietly so to not wake up your family. The darkness is making your skin crawl and it takes everything in you not to start blubbering again. But Steve is there in an instant, switching on your main light, his hand on your back.

"Still here," he murmurs gently before he pulling away from you in order to grab the nightlight from your bedside table.

You nod, taking a few shuddering breaths as you sit down on your bed. Your hands still shake, you still feel that immense heaviness in your chest. The heaviness that refused to leave.

Steve watches you for a moment before he looks down at the nightlight. Admittedly, he didn't know why he had offered to have a look at it. He wasn't exactly an expert on broken lights. He had just wanted to help you in any way he could.

Five minutes pass by and Steve swears that he had made the situation with your nightlight worse. Now it was making a noise. He yanked out of the plug from the wall and looked at you apologetically.

"So—I may owe you a new nightlight," he says sheepishly.

You let a noise—somewhere between a laugh and a sob.

Steve's beside you in an instant—tentatively wrapping his arm around your shoulders. He doesn't say anything and you're grateful for that. He just holds you. Rubs his thumb gently along your shoulder every now and then.

"M'sorry," you murmur finally a few minutes later—when you had eventually calmed enough to talk. "S'just a stupid nightlight."

"Hey, it's not to you. The light means safety to you. It is important."

Your breath catches because fuck, Steve understood. He didn't think you were childish, silly or stupid. He just got it.

"I'm sorry I couldn't fix it," he whispers, thumb still moving over the small slither of exposed skin on your shoulder.

"It's okay. You tried."

It's quiet then. Aside from your sniffling and ragged breathing.

"I'm sorry I called," you say quietly. "I shouldn't have—"

"No, I'm glad you did."

More quiet follows. But it's not awkward, not at all. It makes that heaviness in your chest lift slightly.

"You—you said you have nightmares," you begin carefully, eyes lifting up to meet his.

Steve looks back at you—jaw tensing for a brief moment before he nods. "Yeah—I did say that."

"Wh-what are your nightmares about?" You ask him. You realise it was an invasion, perhaps a rude question to ask. But you wanted to try. To see if he was as willing to open up as you were.

There's a moment where Steve says nothing. Where just looks back at you blankly. You worry he was about to shut you down—tell you that you were impertinent for even asking.

But to your surprise, Steve doesn't do that. Instead, he gives your shoulder a gentle squeeze before he speaks.

"It's always the same. That night. I keep dreaming about it but—instead of saving you—you're already gone."

The admission takes you by surprise and for a moment, you say nothing—just look at him in shock.

And Steve? Well, his eyes are flickering down to your bare thighs—exposed by your pyjama shorts. You already know what he's looking at. Your scar. You quickly try to cover it but—

His fingers are already brushing along the tender flesh and it makes your breath hitch audibly. He looks up at you, his brown eyes warm and gentle, as his thumb scores along the raised skin.

"I just—I see it," Steve breathes out, his touch like fire against your skin. "Nearly every damn night. You bleeding out. Not being able to stop the demorogon from killing you. It—fuck (y/n), I—the sight fucking haunts me and—I know I didn't get hurt but I know how you feel. I really do. And that's why I know that you need someone—someone like me who lived it to lean on. Just a little. Let me be your anchor when you need to float."

You look back at him, swallowing down the intense emotions that you were feeling. You were scared. Of course you were—of relying on someone. Of needing someone.

"I need to float right now," you murmur back with a small smile that Steve returns.

"Okay," he nods, glancing around your room quickly as he removes his hand from your thigh. You find that you miss the feeling. "I think your nightlight is fucked—sorry. So um, I can get you a new one tomorrow and—I can stay here with you tonight—to help you sleep."

Your lips part in surprise—ready to shoot him down but Steve is quicker.

"I'll sleep on the floor," he adds. "I swear—no funny business. Just a friend making sure a friend gets to sleep."

"Friend?" You echo, the corners of your mouth twitching.

"Yeah," Steve smiles. "A friend."

You should say no. Should tell him that if your mom, Jonathan or Will caught Steve in your room in the morning—it would raise questions. Your mom would likely give you the birds and the bees talk again. Jonathan would question if you had been replaced by a clone. But you could no longer deny it—you needed him. Needed him just as much you needed him that night you nearly died.

"Extra pillows and blanket are in my closet," you tell him finally.

It's a ridiculous sight, really. Steve the hair Harrington pulling out pillows and blankets from your closet as you tuck yourself into your bed. He glances over at you before switching off the light. You tense but barely five seconds later, you hear Steve settle down on the floor beside your bed. And then—you feel his hand search for yours in the darkness.

You let him take it. Let him lace his fingers through yours. Let him squeeze your hand gently—a grounding gesture that made you feel warmer than any fire could.

"Thank you Steve," you tell him through the darkness. "For saving my life."

"Anytime," Steve whispers back. "Just don't make a habit out of dying on me."

You squeeze his hand. He squeezes back.

"I'll try my best."

"You better. Because you're stuck with me now, Byers."

MASTERLIST

dividers by the lovely @zclhs

taglist: @kravitzwhore @iyskgd @kkmiso @bel0vab4rnes @cunningtalismanmechanism @yua-who @kkwanvince @cowb0ykillers @matchaenthusiast1111 @lomlcamy @fallingwillow @ivory-s-queen @daydreamgirly1221 @multiversefanfics @avensgreenvans @b1-r0b0t @confusebiassbitch @unhelthybeatch @pjo4life1939 @star-yawnznn @mysensibleheart @ineedanewusernaame @writtingrose @lux-emily @intothesoul @emilyswortwellen @lillianacristina @weasleyswizarding-wheezes @raajali3 @asfkoie @criesinlies @itmekelpy @fr0gfac3 @arahs-stuff @malcolm-todd @igotissues2009 @jamesbarnesrealwife @halerune @verycherryblossomhideout @macbaetwo @mjane0804 @michael-ld @superfreaksteve @darcyharpergarnet @theallisonkeery @torunn03 @multifandombliss

[purgatoryxsilverstar]

The Winner Takes It All Masterlist ✮

Pairing: Steve Harrington x female!reader

Summary: You and Steve Harrington have been at war since birth, casualties of your fathers’ life-long rivalry. You tolerate the “family” dinners, survive being paraded around like a prize, but dealing with Steve has always been the real battle. And now, years later, what began as competition feels dangerously close to something else: maybe love, maybe obsession, but definitely not over.

Warnings: I will put specific warnings before each chapter if there are any!

Prologue

Chapter One: Wanna Bet?

Chapter Two: Ten Shots to Nowhere

Chapter Three: Nothing to See Here

Chapter Four: Pancakes & Polaroids

Chapter Five: When the Party Breaks

Chapter Six: Season of Truce

Chapter Seven: Sprains & Spilled Secrets

Chapter Eight: It’s the Great Pumpkin, Steve Harrington — coming soon!

Chapter Nine: Pass the Drama, Please — coming soon!

Chapter Ten: All’s Fair in Love and Rivalry — coming soon!

[xpeachsunsidex]

Can’t You See I’ve Been Waiting For You?

Steve Harrington x Fem!Mayfield!Reader

Summary: You’re convinced Steve has a thing for Robin, but he really just has a thing for you. 5.6k wc

Warnings & What to Expect: Slight angst, a dash of hurt/comfort, set in season 4, Max is kind of a jerk (I mean she’s going through a lot ya’ll), reader is head over heels for Steve - it’s mutual, reader is oblivious tho, Dustin being a slight menace (when is he not?), happy ending (& let’s pretend Max doesn’t end up in a coma/trance 🤗)

Masterlist If Interested!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Steve Harrington was unfairly good looking all the time. The jeans that hugged his waist just right, the polo shirts whether long or short tucked in - snug around his biceps, Nike sneakers that always seemed pristine somehow, and the perfectly styled hair.

God, his hair. You wanted to card your fingers through the soft brown locks, tugging at them, desperate to watch him fall apart at your touch.

It was so unfair that he always looked like a Greek God, but it was even more unfair when you realized you had feelings for the man.

Not only were you stuck in his orbit all the time suffering over how hopelessly attracted you were to him, but you were also pretty sure that he had a thing going on with Robin Buckley.

Now if you asked Steve and Robin that? They’d freak out, assert they were just friends, platonic with a capital P. You almost believed them sometimes; mostly when Steve would turn those puppy dog eyes on you and you almost thought you had a chance with him.

Like earlier today, when Steve had grabbed your wrist, thumb stroking delicately against your pulse point; asking how you were holding up after learning your little sister likely only had 24 hours left to live, unless your friends figured out a way to stop Vecna’s curse.

Or like last week, when you and the party had gone out to the local diner. The kids had practically scarfed down the shared fries, leaving you none and your meal hadn’t come with any.

Upon seeing the disappointed look on your face, Steve had pushed his plate of the fried goodness towards you, claiming he wasn’t hungry anymore when you knew he’d normally demolish his food whole.

There was also that time a month ago when you and Steve were in charge of getting the popcorn and snacks at the movies tor everyone. When the teens behind you in line had been a bit rambunctious and bumped into you, Steve was quick to place his hand on your lower back, guiding you just a bit closer to him. He hadn’t taken it off until you were done ordering.

There was a series of things that Steve did that would forever be ingrained into your mind; the casual compliments he’d throw your way nearly on a daily basis, how he remembered you liked Diet Coke over regular, noticing when you went quiet - always the first to check in with you, or more recently letting you cry into his arms about the fact that your sister had been snarkier to you now than ever before.

So, yeah, you could believe they weren’t secretly together when Steve treated you that way, but you mostly chalked it up to him just being a good guy - because Robin and Steve were around each other constantly, attached at the hip. Working together, hanging out together, and Steve had dragged Robin into you and your friends' world permanently.

Which, don’t you get wrong, you loved Robin. She was hilarious, insanely smart, and fiercely cared about your friends. Dustin noticed these things about her too, and was constantly pushing Steve to go for it, which always hurt you more than you cared to admit. Why didn’t Dustin think that you were good enough for Steve?

As much as Robin and Steve vehemently denied that anything was going on between them, you didn’t want to get stuck in one of those situations where the guy had to choose between his best friend or girlfriend because he was secretly harboring feelings for the best friend.

So you kept your mouth shut, feelings for Steve tucked away inside of you. You were good at pretending.

No one knew how you truly felt, not even your own sister who was the most observant person you knew and could smell desperation from a mile away.

You had always been good about pretending in front of Max because you were the older sister. You had to be strong for her.

You had to be strong and pretend like it hadn’t shattered your heart to leave your dad behind in California. You had to be strong and pretend like Neil and Billy hadn’t scared the absolute shit out of you for their aggressive behavior. You had to be strong and pretend to be positive about the move to Hawkins even though it made you full of dread. That one wasn’t just for Max, but for your mom too.

The move to Hawkins had indeed been hell on Earth like you assumed it would be.

It had been one bad thing after another. Max and you getting involved in a world of alternate realities. Billy being controlled by the Mindflayer, then sacrificing himself; dying in front of your eyes. Your stepfather up and leaving your mom afterwards, which caused her to spiral into drinking after having to get two jobs just to make ends meet. Moving into the trailer park which you knew people would judge you about. The cherry on top was finding out that this Vecna asshole had now made your baby sister his next target.

The one good thing to come out of moving to Hawkins? Steve Harrington.

It’s why it was so, so unfair that you had these feelings for him and felt like you couldn’t say anything about it to him.

Steve had become a constant in your life. He had protected you and your sister from Billy that night he came searching at the Byers house, had always given the two of you free ice cream when he worked at Scoops Ahoy, drove you to school because he knew you and Max thought the bus was disgusting.

Somewhere along the way he was no longer Steve; the guy you went to school with by day and fought monsters with by night. He became Steve; the guy you were totally hung up on; and not just because he was a total babe, but because he had this heart of gold that he didn’t boast about, and yet it shined clear as day based on his actions for you, your sister, and the rest of the party.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Steve’s currently on babysitting duty with you once again.

The two of you were watching over your sister, Lucas and Dustin while Nancy and Robin tried to figure out more about this freaky Victor Creel man, and the demon that had tormented his family years ago.

Your eyes trail over Steve, who was watching your sister like a hawk; never letting her leave his sight. His jaw was tense, a muscle there popping just slightly, brows drawn in as he watched her furiously writing at the desk across the Wheeler’s basement.

You were sitting on the couch, squished between Steve and Dustin. Your right leg and arm pressed against Steve’s left. Your heart hadn’t slowed down since he had patted the spot next to you, inviting you to take a seat by him.

You weren’t sure if Steve was making it his mission to completely invaded your personal space with the way he kept leaning into you, but you could get used to the feel of his body against yours.

You couldn’t help it when you started taking advantage of looking at his side profile, as his eyes weren’t on you. You may be good at keeping your infatuation with him a secret, but it didn’t stop you from watching him whenever you had the chance to.

You were lost in gazing at the smattering of freckles creeping up from out of the collar of his shirt and up his neck. Your eyes continued to trace the lingering few of them that reached his face. You so badly wanted to brush each of them with the tips of your fingers and lips.

You were fascinated by the length of his eyelashes at this angle, watched as they fluttered each time he blinked. You move your eyes to the slight stubble above his upper lip, his perfectly kissable plush lips that you so badly wanted a taste of.

You loved watching how protective Steve got of the kids when danger was around the corner, but you especially loved watching his concern for your sister. It tugged at your heart strings, knowing that someone other than yourself had her back without argument.

“I know you guys are staring at me,” Max suddenly shares, shoulders tensing up. It quickly snaps you back into reality that you had just been gawking at Steve.

You force your eyes away from him, not wanting to be caught by the boys or Steve himself, cheeks flooding with heat. You let out a brief hum of noise, pretending like you had just been caught staring at Max like the rest of them.

“What sorry-,” Steve replies, grabbing the stress ball off the small table in front of you and tosses it up in the air. It causes the muscle in his right arm to flex, his tongue poking out in concentration.

Your brain nearly short circuits, and you try to pretend like you were busy looking along at the book that Dustin had grabbed when Max interrupted the staring fest the boys were indeed having.

“You said you needed something,” Lucas tries to play it cool.

“Just hanging out,” Steve says, and you plead with the universe to make him stop throwing that damn ball into the air so you’re not tempted to watch him.

“How you think your eyes boring into the back of my head is protecting me from Vecna, I don’t know,” Max sighs, standing up, stacking a bunch of envelopes in her hands. You continue to pretend to be interested in the book while she starts walking towards the group of you.

“You can look at me now,” Max stops, and sighs in slight annoyance at how obvious you all are.

“Thank you,” Dustin mumbles quietly.

“Sorry-” Lucas and Steve reply, and Steve thankfully drops the ball back on the table.

“Max, what are you holding?” You ask her cautiously. You’re worried about her. She’s been coiled in on herself, like a spring ready to snap at any and all times, refusing to let any of you in.

You can see her clench her teeth, but she loses her resolve. Passing out an envelope to each of you on the couch. You stare at the letter with your name printed on it in disbelief, already realizing that it’s a goodbye.

You also realize it’s an extremely inappropriate time for your heart to tighten at the fact that Steve received a letter from her too; finally understanding that Max loved Steve like a brother despite her frequent smart ass quips to the man.

“Oh, and um, give these to Mike, El, and Will. If you can ever get a hold of them again,” She passes the rest of the letters to Lucas.

Steve and Dustin start to open up their envelopes, but yours is now crushed tightly in your hand. Head spinning over the fact that your sister thinks she’s not going to make it out of this.

“Hey, what are you doing? No don’t, that’s not for now. Don’t open it now!” Max snaps at them.

“Don’t- okay,” Dustin starts, “I’m sorry, what is this?” He finally gets out.

“Yeah Max, what is this?” You echo, voice hard, eyes narrowing at her. Steve turns his attention towards you at the change in your tone, eyes flitting back and forth between you and Max.

“It’s, um, it’s a fail safe for after. If things don’t work out,” She shrugs it off, like she hadn’t just admitted she has accepted her death. Your mouth drops open at her words, standing up from the couch to talk some sense into her.

“Wait, whoa Max things are going to work out-,” Lucas starts to plead with her.

“No! I don’t need you to reassure me and tell me it’s all gonna work out, because people have been telling me that my entire life and it’s almost never true,” She bites out, her eyes move to meet yours, her expression turning angry.

“It's never true,” She spits out at you, and you swallow hard, throat constricting at her bitter words.

Your relationship with her hadn’t been the same since Billy died. You knew she blamed herself, despite how many times you tried to convince her it wasn’t her fault.

She wasn’t the same girl anymore. No longer did she run into your room, giggling about something dorky Lucas had said to her. No longer did she ask you to braid her hair or paint her nails or watch a movie with her. No longer did she sit and talk with you for hours about anything and everything, now preferring her walkman and headphones over her older sister.

It sucked. It felt like losing your best friend, because as much as she was your sassy little sister, she was the one person you loved more than life itself.

You can remember holding her in your arms when she was born, and as you grew together, you swore you’d always shield her from the harshness of the world.

“Max,” You start, and fold your arms together, trying not to seem as upset as you are, “You’re not alone in this. We are going to come up with a plan to protect you. I don’t know how, but we will figure something out.”

Your words don’t soothe her. You didn’t really expect them too, considering she had just basically told you that your words of encouragement in the past had never meant anything to her.

“You’re always trying to protect me, but guess what? You can’t. Not this time,” Max shakes her head, her irritation growing by the second.

She’s nearly seething at this point, and you haven’t seen her this upset since she used to make her gaming name Mad Max; nicknaming herself after all the anger stored in her heart from the shitty cards life had thrown at the both of you.

Max says the cruel words before thinking, “Maybe if you weren’t so busy staring at Steve all the damn time because of your stupid schoolgirl crush on him, you’d realize I’m grown up now. I don’t believe in fairytale bullshit like you. I don’t need you to pretend to be strong for me when I know you’re not!”

Your eyes grow wide at her throwing what you thought was a secret in your face. Of course you had been naive enough to believe that she didn’t know you were into Steve. Just because she didn’t say anything, didn’t mean she didn’t notice it.

Not only had she just revealed that very private information in front of him, but she’d also just insulted your whole personality. You grit your teeth together, trying not to yell back at her, because as much as you wanted to explode on her for being a selfish brat right now, you knew that she was in so much pain mentally.

Steve watches you now, his lips parted incredulously at Max’s words about you liking him. He watches as the blow lands hard. He watches as the tears start gathering in your eyes at your sister’s sharp words.

The basement was suddenly suffocating, as you felt everyone’s eyes on you. You refused to look at Steve, worried about his reaction. You didn’t want to look at him and see him pitying you.

You needed air. You needed to get out of this situation. So you give her a short, curt nod, and then bolt up the stairs.

Steve immediately stands up, ready to follow you. Before he does, he puts his hands on his hips and gives a pointed look at Max.

“That’s,” Steve starts, shakes his head, then sighs, “That wasn’t cool, Max,” He says softly to the girl, who already had regret written all over her face.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You don’t know where to go. You didn’t visit the Wheeler’s house very often, but you knew Ted and Karen were still home with Holly somewhere, not inclined to leave the house due to the fact that they believe a serial killer on the loose in Hawkins.

You also didn’t want to get stuck having a conversation with Mrs. Wheeler, though she really was lovely.

You just couldn’t handle her bubbly persona right now when you felt like your heart had just been ripped out of your chest and stomped on by your sister.

You decide to slip out the front door before anyone sees you. You don’t want to go too far, considering how even though you were beyond pissed and hurt by what Max had said, she was still doomed by Vecna, and you should be close enough to get to her if needed.

You catch sight of Steve’s burgundy BMW parked on the street by the mailbox. You walk over to it and try the passenger door where you’ve found yourself sitting in the last couple of days because of everything going on. You pull, it’s locked; of course.

You carefully prop yourself up on the flat trunk of the car, feet resting on the lip of the bumper. You’re not too worried about Steve being upset with you over it, as you’ve seen him sit here himself quite a bit; typically when the group is trying to make a plan and decide who’s doing what.

Your head falls into your hands, finally letting the tears flow freely now that you are alone.

You were extremely embarrassed at the fact that Steve had just heard that you watched him like an absolute weirdo.

It was awful knowing that he now knew you had a crush on him, when he so clearly wasn’t into you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Unbeknownst to you, Steve had already made his way up the basement stairs, did a quick check of the main floor of the house, before realizing you must be outside.

He glanced briefly out the back, then the front and his heart jumped to his throat when he saw you perched on his Beamer.

He’s nervous as hell to go talk to you. No one but Robin and Dustin knew it, but Steve was absolutely captivated by you.

He had been for a long time now, but never had the courage to bring it up to you. Dustin loved to tease him about it, purposefully bringing up Robin in front of you, trying to pressure Steve into just being honest with you.

You sort of intimidated him; you were this strong, capable, independent woman who protected the people she loved without fail or question. He was completely enchanted by it, but he wasn’t sure if he’d measure up to you.

He didn’t think he was in the same league as you, let alone have a shot with you. He hadn’t been great at talking to girls in a while, and he didn’t want to totally screw things up with you by making a fool of himself.

He had been pretending for so long that you weren’t the girl of his dreams, but after hearing what Max had said about you being into him, he knew he needed to make a move before it was too late.

He slips out the front door of the house, briskly walking up the driveway to meet you at his car. You don’t notice him approaching because your head is still in your hands.

When he gets closer, he can hear the tell tale sign of crying by the sniffling noises you're making, shoulders shaking gently. His heart breaks over seeing you in such a state.

He’s not sure how to approach you without scaring you off, so he reaches out to your arm, fingers gently grazing over your warm skin.

“Hey,” He whispers hesitantly to you, trying to get you to look up at him.

You go still at the sound of Steve’s voice and touch, groaning inside of your head. You couldn’t catch a break could you?

You want to stay hidden in your hands, but know you need to put your big girl pants on and face what’s surely about to be the most awkward interaction you’ve ever had with him.

“Hi,” You whisper back, head lifting from your hands, quickly wiping the tears off your face. You tuck your hair behind your ears and lean back to see Steve gazing at you already.

He’s got this funny look on him. One you haven’t seen before, and it scares you that you don’t know what he’s thinking about. If you didn’t know him, you’d call it adoration, but surely that’s not the case.

“Um, can I-?” Steve doesn’t finish his sentence, but he raises his hand towards your face making your eyes go wide. You give him a slight nod, not sure what he means.

When he gently curls a piece of your hair back behind your ear that you must’ve missed just moments before, you feel the tips of your cheeks burning.

He then trails that same hand to your chin, swiping away at some of the left behind moisture you had missed. He lets his hand linger there for a moment.

“I’m sorry,” You blurt out before you can help yourself, being around him like this starts up the word vomit, “I’m sorry, about what Max said about you. It was stupid, I think she was just talking in the heat of the moment and not realizing what she was saying. I’m so sor-” Steve gently quiets you with his thumb brushing across your rambling lips.

God, what is this man doing to you?

“Is it true?” He asks quietly, leaning towards you now. It’s like magnets being drawn towards one another. His feet are planted so close to you that the tips of your knees are brushing his thighs.

“Is what true?” You ask shyly, dropping your eyes to his lips and promptly lose concentration when his tongue darts out in a quick press to wet them.

When you flick your eyes back up to meet his, you notice his are already trained on your own lips. You swallow harshly, and think you might have to pinch yourself to make sure you’re awake right now.

He’s never been this close to you before, and it’s kicking up a wild storm of butterflies in your stomach. He’s still got one hand stroking your face, and he moves the other one to drop on your hip. His hand is heavy and holds you firmly.

You involuntarily let out a little whimper at the contact, making Steve grin cockily at you. It’s the signal he needed to gain his self confidence back, nerves he was feeling before disappearing.

He needed to make sure that he didn’t leave this conversation without officially making you his.

“Oh, I like that noise coming from your lips, honey,” He playfully tells you, stepping even closer.

His leg nudges one of yours, and he settles himself fully in between your legs. Your lips part, gasping at the movement.

What in the world is happening right now? Had you somehow died and gone to Heaven without realizing it? Surely you had because the feeling of Steve’s legs between your own was devastating.

“You still haven’t answered my question, angel. I think you know what I’m talking about; is it true?” Steve repeats himself.

You stare at him, at a loss for words. Your seconds away from throwing yourself at him.

Steve waits patiently for your response, but figures he knows how to get you talking. Since you hadn’t shown him any resistance, he presses a kiss to the underside of your jaw, right below your ear.

Your eyes shut at the contact, another soft noise being pulled from you that you didn’t even realize you could make.

“Does it matter?” You stutter out, feeling like you're about to run out of oxygen.

“Why wouldn’t it, angel?” He says that damn pet name again, causing your head to swim.

Your hand reaches out to the blue bomber jacket he’s wearing, grasping onto the material to try to ground yourself in reality despite this unbelievable situation you’ve found yourself in with him.

“Because, you’re in love with Robin aren’t you?” You decide to bite the bullet and just tell him, and Steve reacts like you’ve just dumped a bucket of ice cold water over his head.

He rears back from you, eyes wide in disbelief. It would almost be comical if you weren’t waiting on an answer that could absolutely shatter you right now; if he were to say yes.

He’s gaping at you, clearly not having expected you to say that.

“W-what?!” He yelps out, squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head before continuing, “Is that a joke? Did someone tell you that?”

“No one had to tell me, Steve. It’s not a joke either. It’s pretty clear you love her,” You shrug your shoulders half heartedly.

He’s still looking at you like you’ve just opened your mouth and started to speak to him in a foreign language. He tilts his head, lips pursing, mouth opening and shutting, trying to find the right words to say.

“Okay. Okay, sure, I love Robin as a friend, but I’m not in love with her,” Steve replies, still in a state of shock at what you’ve told him.

His eyebrows are furrowed a bit, creating a small dent in the skin in the middle of them. You desperately want to reach out and smooth it over, but you’re still uncertain about where you stand with him, about what’s happening between the two of you right now.

“I can see you’re still silently debating inside that pretty little head of yours, aren’t you? Can I prove it to you?” Steve questions when he sees you're still feeling doubtful.

“Please,” You manage to choke out.

Steve doesn’t hesitate, he presses another kiss to the spot below your ear, before trailing his lips down your jawline. He’s taking his time, ravishing you with his mouth.

You tighten your hand that’s resting against his chest, fingers still curled around the fabric of his jacket. Your other hand moves to rest at the back of his neck, playing with the tufts of hair that sit there.

Steve’s lips continue down to your neck. When he reaches your exposed collarbone, he gently nips at it, causing you to tug him closer to you, if that’s even possible. His tongue presses against the skin that he just bit, and you swear you see stars.

He makes his way back up the other side of your neck that he hasn’t touched yet, then drags his nose up your jaw and finally his mouth is just inches from yours.

He presses his lips to the corner of your mouth, teasing you, before parting his lips, still hovering above yours.

“Just kiss me already, Harrington,” You whine, tipping your head closer to him, and he laughs breathily against you.

“My needy girl, you’ve been so patient haven’t you?” He quips, and before you can snap at him to stop toying with you, he finally presses his mouth to yours in a greedy kiss.

His pink lips are pressing against yours hungrily, both hands on your hips now, dragging you towards him so you become fully flush against him.

Steve knows what he’s doing, expertly swiping his tongue against your bottom lip, coaxing your mouth open so he can kiss you deeper. You’re completely gone, dizzy with want for him.

Your hand slips further into the hair at the base of his neck and you tug at the strands there the way you’ve wanted to for so long. Steve makes this irresistible noise from the back of his throat, causing him to break away for a moment.

You don’t let him get far though, eagerly pressing your lips to his again not willing to let him slip away from you yet. You grow braver at the sounds of desire coming from him, letting your tongue dip into his mouth when he gasps for air.

You could stay here with him forever, drowning in this growing need for each other, but the moment is ruined when you hear the Wheeler’s front door slam.

You and Steve jump apart, but still have a hold of one another, breathing hard, glancing to see who just came out of the house. It’s Dustin, hands on his hips like a disappointed parent.

“Hey lovebirds!” Dustin yells, “We’re giving you five more minutes to make out before you both need to get your asses back in here so we can ask you something.” He turns around to walk back into the house, closes the door behind him just as hard.

Your eyes trail to the front window, seeing Lucas and Max peeking at you and Steve from the living room window. You roll your eyes, but with no true malice, at the fact that they’re always trying to get into your business.

Your lighthearted mood starts to fade at seeing your sister, knowing that she’s the reason you had left the house in such a rush to begin with.

“That little shithead.” Steve huffs a harsh breath out.

“He’s totally gloating right now. Constantly bringing up Robin in front of you trying to - wait a second - he’s the reason you had that wild idea in your head, isn’t he? I’m gonna m-,” Steve breaks off when he turns his attention back to you.

He notices your delated look, clearly not paying attention to what he’s saying, and thinking about the words Max had told you.

“Hey, look at me, sweetheart,” He urges you. When you do, he cups your face with both of his hands, holding you steady.

“What your sister said back there, about you believing in fairytale’s and not being strong? Don’t listen to that,” Steve starts, cutting to the chase, “She’s hurting right now. You know what they say about hurt people hurting people; not that it makes it okay.”

You bite your lip, nodding briefly, but your eyes well up with tears again at his words.

“I think it’s so, so attractive that you choose to believe in the good in this world. It doesn’t mean you're living in a fairytale, it just means you want a life that’s worth living, a life you deserve,” Steve says softly.

“And not strong?” He scoffs at the idea, “You’re the strongest person I know, having to deal with all the shit that you and Max have gone through. Despite it all, you continue to show up for her, take care of her, even when you're on the receiving side of her wrath,” He gives you that charming smile of his, trying to comfort you with his words, and you’re nearly blinded by his beauty.

“God, I’m obsessed with you, Steve,” You admit, bringing one of your own hands up to cup his jaw.

He closes his eyes at the touch and hums briefly, turns his lips to kiss the palm of your hand, before letting his head rest against your touch.

“Are you,” You swallow, “You sure you’re not in love with Robin? Because that would really, really suck for me.”

“I’m standing here, between your knees. I just had the best kiss of my life, with you, and you’re still asking me if I’m sure that I’m not in love with Robin?” He chuckles, shakes his head, and grabs your chin with his thumb and forefinger.

“Silly girl,” He chides you, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips this time around. Then his face grows serious, making sure you’re looking into his eyes before the next words come from his mouth.

“I promise you, I don’t feel that way about Robin. I can’t explain it to you, it’s not for me to share. But one day, I think Robin will tell you why it won’t ever be like that between me and her,” Steve tells you softly, eyes begging you to believe him.

You don’t really understand what he means, but you trust him, and you trust Robin, so you decide it’s enough and the last of your hesitancy dissolves

“If I knew you were gonna kiss me like that, I never would have pretended to not be carrying a torch for you. This feels so much better than pretending like I haven’t wanted you this whole time.” You laugh quietly.

Taking him in freely like this, without it needing to be a secret feels almost like love, it must be love you think; though you know you’re not quite ready to say that just yet.

“I’d say can’t you see I’ve been waiting here for you the whole time, but I’m a pretty good pretender too,” Steve shares with you.

“I’ve always wanted you, I want this, if you’ll have me,” Steve says, starting to feel love sick on you.

You answer him with another kiss, and before the two of you can get lost in one another again, there’s a clearing of someone's throat. You pull away reluctantly, and see Max standing there.

She looks uncomfortable, probably because of the position you and Steve are in against his car. He turns his head over his shoulder to see her there, and pulls away from you.

He grabs your hand to help you hop down off the car, hand sliding to your lower back to brush off the top of your jeans. Hand briefly gliding over your ass mischievously under the guise of getting the dirt off you.

“I guess our five minutes are up,” You joke, as you watch Dustin and Lucas walking up the driveway towards you.

“We’ll give you a moment,” Steve says, pressing a kiss to your temple, releasing you to usher the two boys back inside before they cause chaos.

You wait silently for Max to say something to you. She doesn’t, instead choosing to inch her way forward, before slipping her arms around you. You melt into her hug, never able to stay mad at her for too long, arms holding her tight.

“I shouldn’t have said those mean things to you. They weren’t true. It just that I’m-,” Max apologizes, and you fill in the blank for her.

“Scared?” You ask gently. She sighs, nodding against you.

“I just, I know you want to protect me. You always have. Physically or emotionally, you’ve done it since we were kids, but this feels heavier. Like the stakes are higher, and I don’t want you getting hurt. I can’t lose you,” Max confesses.

“Oh, Max,” You don’t know how to reply, knowing she’s right. The stakes do feel higher this time around, and there’s a good chance someone may not make it out of this.

“I can’t tell you the outcome of this. But I promise, no matter what happens, I’m going to be there for you. I meant it when I said you’re not alone in this,” You say after a beat of quiet. She nods silently again, holding you for just a bit longer.

“So, Steve?” She asks you once she’s pulled back, a smile forming on her face.

You roll your eyes and go to playfully pinch her cheek like you used to when she was younger. She swats your hand away from her, “I mean it looked like he was trying to swallow you whole.”

You laugh at her words, “Well I guess I have you to thank for that. You ratted out my secret! Luckily for me and you both, it turns out he feels the same way. What if he hadn’t? And how did you even know that I liked him like that?”

“You clearly don’t see the way Steve has a staring problem for you, just like you have for him. Besides, sisters always know,” She shrugs.

“So like how I know you obviously want Lucas back?” You tease, and a rare blush starts to form on her neck, confirming your suspicions.

“Shut up!” She cries out, but you see the warmth in her eyes, “And speaking of, let’s go get the boys. We’re making Steve take us on a field trip. I’m not spending what could be my last hours on earth in the armpit that is Mike Wheeler’s basement,” She shudders at the thought.

You hate that that's even a possibility, but you take her hand firmly, reminding her that you’re there, and head back inside.

Steve’s already got his car keys ready to go in his hand, eyes lighting up when he spots you and Max coming back in, clearly having solved the issue.

“You better treat her right, Harrington. I know a good lawyer,” Max points at him sternly, and Steve just smirks at the threat.

“Wouldn’t surprise me, Mayfield,” He replies, and pulls you into his side, refusing to let you go now that he has you.

“Besides, you’ve got nothing to worry about. I’ve been waiting a long time for her. I wouldn't dream of screwing it up,” Steve gazes at you, about to lean in to kiss you and the teens around you immediately pretend to gag.

You giggle as Steve groans in annoyance, before leaning his head towards you, whispering, “After this shit show ends, I’m taking you on a proper date.”

It’s an assurance that you’re looking forward to. You’ve waited all this time for him, a little bit more time wouldn’t hurt.

[limeletters]

At Least It’s Not the End of the World ♡

After protecting the kids from demodogs and sentient tunnel vines with Steve, a weekend babysitting Holly Wheeler together is supposed to be simple. That is until feelings neither of you expected start to make things way more complicated.

gn!reader, takes place in between seasons two and three, people who fight monsters together to lovers, tooth-rotting fluff 16k

── .✦

It doesn’t take long to remember why Holly is your favorite Wheeler. She’s patient and sweet, amazingly level-headed for a preschooler, and her manners could put some adults to shame. Compared to her siblings, Holly’s a little sweetheart. And a mama’s girl through and through, clinging to Mrs. Wheeler more often than not. 

Like now, she wriggles in her mom’s lap, scrunched over a coloring book at the dinner table. She squints at her box of crayons and purses her lips— choosing colors is hard when you’re five. She hasn’t said a peep since you arrived, but in the foyer, she greeted you with a clumsy wave and a sheepish smile. 

“It would be Friday afternoon to Monday morning,” Mrs. Wheeler explains, stirring a glass of lemonade with a curly straw. “I’d ask Nance but she’s having a girl's weekend.” 

You glance at Steve. You know girl’s weekend is code for spending the night with Jonathan Byers. But if he knows it too, he doesn’t show it. He doesn’t so much as bat an eye at her words. In fact, he’s relaxed under Mrs. Wheeler’s gaze. He’s sitting in a chair he’s sat in dozens of times before, talking to a woman he sees more frequently than his own mother. 

You don’t know her as well as he does, but you aren’t strangers by any means. 

“And Mike, well, he’s not old enough to watch her for that long. But he’ll be staying over at Joyce’s so you don’t have to worry about him,” she pauses to sip her drink. “I’d pay you, of course. I don’t know what your schedules look like— I know you’re probably busy with the new job, Steve— but I figured since it’s a few days, I’d offer it to you both.” 

Steve flashes an honest smile and leans forward. “Are you kidding? I’d hang with this squirt for free. I’m actually off this weekend so it works out.” 

Mrs. Wheeler beams, eyes springing to yours. 

“Yeah, I could help too,” you shrug. You also happen to be free this weekend and the extra cash would be nice. 

“Great! You both are so lovely. Oh, I was so worried, I kept telling Ted– well, it doesn’t matter now.” Her bracelets clink and clash as she reaches across the table to cover your hand with hers. “You’ll have to keep an eye on these two. She becomes quite the riot when her Stevie comes over.” 

Steve chuckles and raises his hands in defense. “She owes me a rematch at Candyland so I can’t promise anything.” 

Mrs. Wheeler’s fingers retract from yours, landing on the end of Holly’s pigtail. “She’s really missed having you over. Asks about you still.” 

Holly ducks her nose into her paper, pink traveling up her ears. 

“Is that right?” Steve teases. “I’ll have to swing by more often.” 

“Please. You’re welcome anytime, Steve. Whether Nancy’s here or not.” Her attention drifts to you. “And the same goes for you. Mike won’t stop talking about that comic book you gave him.” 

A smug grin surfaces. Out of all of the kids, Mike is a tough one to please. 

“I’ve never been away from Holly for so long. But I trust you guys.” Mrs. Wheeler pecks Holly’s crown to hide a wobbly smile, her sentence spilling out in a breathy string of words.

She really does trust you both. It would take another set of hands to count the number of times either you or Steve had driven her kids home safely. This is just different. She loves all of her kids equally, but Holly’s her baby. 

Holly’s eyes cast up at her mention, bright as a sunlit gem. 

Mrs. Wheeler smooths her daughter’s sleeves down her shoulders. “But Holly’s a good girl. Right, Hollybear?” 

She turns to bury a toothy smile in her mother’s shirt. 

Mrs. Wheeler is meticulous as she presents each and every detail of Holly’s routine. From car seat safety to emergency contacts to allergies, she covers every question you might have before you have it. 

Steve’s a good listener but he’s cursed with a very short attention span. Mrs. Wheeler lost him somewhere around Holly’s sudden aversion to mac and cheese, but she doesn’t seem to notice. You’ll fill in the gaps for him later. 

This won’t be the first time you’ve babysat with Steve. Dustin roped you both into hunting his pet lizard-turned-alien which very quickly escalated to protecting four children from not one, but several, vicious aliens. Safe to say you two are experienced enough to handle one kid for a couple of nights. 

You haven’t seen Steve much since then. It’s summer now. The demodogs and sentient tunnel vines feel much more like a dream than something that actually happened to you these days. Steve works at the Scoops in Starcourt, or so you’ve heard several times– Dustin only reminds you about every time you see him. But despite being as close to death as you’ve ever been beside Steve, visiting him at work feels strangely wrong. Like crossing a line that neither of you ever drew. 

You would not consider Steve Harrington your friend. You’re friendly, as you might be with a neighbor or coworker, but you don’t talk much outside of ​​world-ending, portal-to-another-dimension kind of events. He’s family in a weird sort of way, bound by the shared trauma and unspoken loyalty— like someone you only see at family reunions, familiar enough to care about but still a stranger in most ways. High school was a long blur and your circle of friends couldn’t have been farther from his. So you don’t know Steve, not really. But of what little pieces of him you have come to know in the last year, he’s not half bad at babysitting.

ᯓ★

On Friday afternoon, you park your car beside Steve’s shiny BMW in the Wheeler’s driveway. You take the house key that had been slipped from Mrs. Wheeler’s key ring to yours and unlock the front door. And you find that inside, it’s completely silent. Holly’s quiet as a mouse but she’s still a kid and kids make noise. 

Your bag drops onto the floor beside Steve’s shoes as you toe off your own. When the kitchen and living room turn up empty you jog upstairs. Alarm sinks in on the last step where you still hear nothing. No shouting, no laughing, no crying, no nothing. 

There’s a large window in the hall upstairs, dividing Nancy’s room from Mike's and Holly’s. In your panic, you miss the suspicious lumps in the drapes that frame it. 

As you brush by, Steve rips the curtain across the rod and shouts, “Ha! Gotch– Oh.” 

Your entire body jerks, fear cinching every nerve. “Christ! Steve!”

“Sorry, sorry!” 

Your nostrils flare with hot air as you shove him, “You scared me!” 

His open palms hover in between your chests, unsure how to help. “I thought you were Holly. Sorry.” He gives you an apologetic once-over before a breathy chuckle escapes. 

“It’s not funny. All the shit we’ve been through. God.” He’s lucky you didn’t punch him. A part of you still wants to. 

“Mommy says that’s not a nice word,” Holly says from behind you. 

You turn, shoulders sagging in relief. “I didn’t mean to say that. Sorry.” 

“Stevie, I was supposed to find you,” she whines incredulously, hands planted on her hips. 

“We can go again. I’ll find a new spot.” 

Her frown mends as quickly as it appeared and she skips back to her room to count. 

“Sorry,” Steve reminds you. “Help me find a spot to hide?” 

Soft eyes, a softer smile. It’s hard to stay mad when he looks at you like that. “Okay.” 

Twenty seconds isn’t very long to hide. Especially when Holly counts as fast as she does and when you spend half of your time standing in the hall. So you end up crouched in the corner of Mike’s closet, Steve arched over you, trying his hardest not to crush your toes. 

“Jesus. Does this kid even wash his clothes?” Steve whisper-shouts. “It smells like something died in here.” His palm snaps to the wall behind your head, the flesh of his arm warming your ear.

“You actually couldn’t have picked a worse place. Oh my God.” You press the neckline of your shirt over your nose. Steve’s wearing enough cologne to drown out the stench of dirty socks, though it’s choking you all the same. 

“We had like three seconds. I panicked!” 

You’re glaring at him but only a fraction of light filters in from underneath the door so you’d guess he doesn't see. 

The closet is the first place Holly checks when she barges into Mike’s room, but you’ve never been happier to be caught so fast. 

“My turn!” She glows in victory, pigtails swishing like yellow ribbons as she shouts. 

Steve huffs. “Let’s take a break. We’ve been playing for like an hour.” 

“Can we play tag?”

“In a little while. I’m tired.” He pinches her neck playfully until she squirms out of reach. “How’d you have all that energy?”

She shrugs with her whole body. “I dunno. I’m a kid.” 

A laugh bubbles out of your throat. When your eyes flit to Steve you find him already smiling at you. 

“What about something a little more chill,” you suggest. “We could color?” 

“Bracelets?” 

“You want to make some?” 

She nods, “I can’t reach them. The beads are on top of my closet.”  

“I’ll get ‘em,” Steve offers. “Come show me where.” 

You fan out her multitude of craft containers across the kitchen table. Beads, charms, strings, all neatly filed away. She pops open a lid and plunks down across from you. Steve takes the seat at the end in between. 

“What color bracelet are you gonna make?” you ask, raking through the rainbow of options. 

“Umm, yellow. No– green!” 

“Nice. Here’s a cute little frog charm. Want that?” 

“Mmmm. No, thank you.” 

“I’ll take it,” Steve says, stretching his hand toward you. 

You drop it in the center of his palm where it clinks against a handful of blue beads. They’re pretty and vibrant like the sea. A flicker of an idea pulls you to grab your own handful. 

Holly slides four beads onto a string, two lime green and two baby pink. She drags the other end up and they all slip off, bouncing in separate directions across the table. You smack one before it dives onto the floor and Steve catches another two mid-air. 

“Can you help me tie it?” Holly asks from under her chair, searching for the fourth. 

“Sure.” Steve swaps his bracelet for hers, triple knotting one end. “I like these colors.”

She resurfaces with a grin, voice lilting as she speaks, “Do you like purple?”

“Yeah, purple’s okay. Do you?” 

She nods, pinching a lilac gem and examining it. 

You slip into a peaceful rhythm. The bead bin rattles as Steve digs his fingers in. He murmurs something about sparkles as he shuffles. Every now and then, you peek up at him. And each time, you find that he’s fully absorbed in this, rubbing his chin or poking his tongue out in concentration. You’d even bet he’s having fun. 

“Can you tie it on me,” Holly asks when she finishes. 

Steve takes her hand gently, fingers engulfing her tinier ones. “This good?” He tugs the strings across each other at her permission, sealing it with an extra knot for good measure.  

Holly starts a second one as you finish your first. You hold it up triumphantly for them to see– red and blue beads between every white pearl. 

“Very patriotic,” Steve teases. 

“It’s for you. For scoops. These are the colors right?” 

He softens, eyes rounding like brown buttons. “Wait, really? Thank you. Wow.” He inspects it fondly where you release it in his palm. “Will you tie it?” His arm shoots over to your side of the table. 

You feel his gaze shift from the bracelet to your face as you lace it. And you pretend that it doesn’t make your cheeks burn. 

“You don’t have to wear it to Scoops if you don’t want to,” you mumble, releasing his wrist. 

“What? Of course, I’m wearing it. No one’s ever made me a bracelet before.” 

Your lips bend up into your cheeks as he leans back in his seat. He twists and turns his arm, looking it over again with a similar expression. “Now, it was supposed to be a surprise, but since I’m almost done, I actually made this for you.” He scoops up the piece he’s been working on and waves it in front of you. 

You cock an eyebrow and smirk. “You sure you didn’t just decide that since I gave you one.” 

“I didn’t! I was planning this the whole time! Right Holly, didn’t I say that?”

“No?” 

“Holly, come on now.” He elbows her arm. “Supposed to back me up.” 

“But you didn’t,” she giggles. 

“Holly doesn’t lie, Steve.” 

“Okay, I didn’t say it. But I thought it. I was gonna give it to you I swear.” He jams another couple of beads on his string. “See! Look, it has your favorite color on there.” 

“It has every color on there.” 

“One of which is your favorite.” 

You roll your eyes as he takes your wrist. His hands are warmer than yours, softer than you expect too. He stills as your palm flips face up. A jagged, fleshy ridge runs from the bottom of your pinky to the meat of your thumb. Steve was there when you got the scar. He’s never said it, but you know he blames himself for it. A demodog had you pinned in that damned junkyard school bus so Steve pushed you out of the way but you caught yourself on a broken window. 

“It doesn’t hurt anymore.”

His head dips in a silent nod. He isn’t sure whether to believe you or not. Either way, he feels sorry still.

His bracelet is a statement piece for sure. It truly has every color under the sun and a random assortment of charms and shells. But it’s sweet that he gave it to you. Even if he totally did not plan to do so at first. 

He makes a second bracelet for Holly with purple string and butterfly pendants. Holly gives her next one to him as thanks, then begins on a third for you. 

Steve stands from the table. “I’m hungry. Grilled cheese okay for dinner Holly?” She nods as do you when he asks you the same. 

Your focus drifts between him and the necklace you’re starting for Holly. He coasts around the kitchen naturally, like you imagine he would in his own house. But it’s a bizarre sight. Steve Harrington cooking you food, in the Wheeler’s kitchen out of all places. 

And he’s about as good as a chef as you expect him to be. He’s clumsy and uncertain, even dropping a spatula on the floor with an, “Oh, shi–ugar…” But he kindly refuses to accept any help or advice when you offer. 

He eventually swings around the kitchen island, brimming with pride, one plate in each hand. They’re set in the space you’ve cleared and you quickly see that the sandwiches have been cut adorably into stars. You just as quickly see– and smell– how burnt they are. They aren’t black, they’re edible for sure. But Holly’s five, and polite as she is, most kids would never willingly eat this. 

So you aren’t surprised when she looks at it in disgust, borderline horror. 

“Look, it’s a star,” Steve beams, oblivious. 

Your chest aches with the desire to laugh and an equal pang of sympathy. 

Holly shakes her head, visibly toning down her expression for his sake. “Can I have something else?” 

“It’s good! I promise, just try it.” 

She slowly shakes no again. 

“Steve,” a peel of laughter escapes your lips. “It’s burnt.” 

He scoffs. “It’s not that burnt.” 

Your mouth twitches in a funny little line and your eyes leap between him and the plate. “It’s pretty burnt, Steve.” 

After a moment of silence, he sighs and picks both plates back up. 

“Wait,” you shout, “I’ll still eat mine! Mine isn’t that bad. You did a good job!” 

He sulks at you. “You’re just saying that. I’ll make new ones.” 

“No, it’s okay, really. I’ll eat this one. I don’t mind.” 

He plants the plate in your grabby hands and spins back toward the stove. 

Round two is much better, still star-shaped, and a few shades lighter. Holly thanks him more than once while eating it without you even asking her to. If only Nancy and Mike were as precious as her. And Steve eats the first attempt, now cold, and admits that it tastes, “slightly burnt.” 

You take the empty plates to the sink to wash while Steve and Holly lug the jewelry kits back upstairs. You meet them in Holly’s room after. They’re playing house, Steve the dad, and Holly the mom, with four babydolls for children. She appoints you to be the neighbor when you join. 

You knock on her bedpost, pretending it’s her front door. “Holly, in one hour you’re gonna take a bath.”

Her head pops out from under the blanket. “Can we watch a movie before bed?” 

“Sure, but we have to do bath now if you wanna watch the whole thing.” 

“Okay!” She kicks the sheets away, jumping off the bed in a race to the bathroom. Steve winces as she steps on his hand. 

“Do you need help?” he asks, sprawled across the bed, socked feet hanging over the edge. 

“No, I got it. You can rest in peace now,” you joke, halfway through the door. 

Holly is self-sufficient enough to bathe herself so all you have to do is supervise. You find a matching polka dot set of pajamas in her dresser and a towel under the bathroom sink. And she gets dry and dressed all by herself, Miss Independent. 

“So there’s The Little Mermaid, E.T., Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory…” Steve trails off, kneeling in front of the entertainment center. 

Holly hands him a VHS tape, “This one?” 

“Ooh, good pick.” Steve feeds the tape into the player and rewinds it. 

You pat the couch cushion beside yours as Holly skips over. Steve hits the light before flopping into the recliner with a satisfied groan. The Jungle Book glows to life on the TV, casting an indigo wash over each of your faces. Holly curls into herself, knees tucked to her chest, arms wrapped tight around them.

“Here,” Steve chucks a blanket from the basket at his side. 

“Thanks.” You scoop it off the floor where it missed the couch and billow it out over you and Holly. “Don’t fall asleep, Harrington.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” Steve folds one leg over the other and crosses his arms, eyes glued to the screen. He reminds you of Mr. Wheeler sitting in his recliner like that. It’s alarming how attractive you find it. He’s not even doing anything worth staring at. You force your eyes back on the TV. 

The credits scroll up the screen for a whole minute before you realize the movie has ended. You aren’t asleep but you aren’t totally awake either. Steve’s not far off by the looks of it and Holly, on the other hand, was out like a light halfway through. Her head presses into your upper arm, her hand scrunched in the blanket on your thigh. The weight is nice, making it all the harder to pick yourself up and get her to bed. 

But thankfully Steve’s there to help. He twists in his chair until his back clicks, smiling when he catches sight of you and Holly. “I’ll carry her up,” he whispers. 

You gently work Holly’s stubborn fingers from the blanket as Steve stands. He pushes the rest of the fabric into your lap before bending to scoop Holly up. 

“Be right back,” he says, starting toward the stairs. 

You tug the blanket higher, seeking lost comfort in its folds, though it doesn’t compare to the warmth Holly provided. 

Steve pads back down not a minute later. He stops on the last step, hanging over the railing. “You awake?” 

“Barely,” you mumble. 

Steve plods up to the front door to check the locks. He orbits into the kitchen and then back around to the living room to turn the TV off. He’s being the responsible one. You aren’t sure why this surprises you. 

“Come on,” he opens his hand toward you. 

Your arm snakes out from under the blanket, and he lifts you effortlessly. You’ve seen how strong he is, how he fights, but it still surprises you. 

“I was gonna suggest another movie but I don’t think either of us’ll make it.” 

You catch a yawn from Steve. “I know. I’m so tired. It’s not even late.” 

He hums from behind you on the stairs. “Yeah. Who knew this’d be so exhausting.” He’s only being slightly sarcastic. There’s an obvious truth to what he implied, but at the same time, it is so much harder than you realized it would be. 

You stop at the landing, sluggishly turning to face Steve. “Well, goodnight, I guess.” 

“Goodnight.” 

You splinter into opposite ends of the hall. Steve let you have Nancy’s room for obvious reasons, though he wasn’t thrilled about crashing in Mike’s bed. He’s probably better off on the couch after seeing the kid’s closet. 

You change into cozier clothes and untuck Nancy’s quilt. Like with Steve, you and Nancy aren’t really friends. It’s strange being in her room, settling into her bed. And it’s almost stranger that Steve is sleeping across the hall. Yet, there’s an odd comfort in it— being surrounded by people who went through the same thing you did. 

ᯓ★

There’s thumping in the hall– footsteps, too light to be Steve’s. You fight the urge to go back to sleep. Holly needs a babysitter. But it’s not an easy feat, not when you’re swaddled like a baby in blankets much softer than the ones you have at home. You’re warm and it’s so quiet it feels like a gift; that is, until you remind yourself that kids and quiet don’t usually go hand and hand. She could be answering the door to a stranger, scaling the counters, setting the kitchen on fire, the possibilities are endless. 

You force your heavy eyes open and flinch as a much brighter pair come into focus. 

Holly bends over you with this innocent endearment you cannot possibly be mad to be woken by. “Told you, Stevie,” she says. 

“No, you woke ‘em up, goofball.” Steve lingers at the foot of the bed in a pair of striped pajama pants and a faded Olympics tee. You’ve never seen him in pajamas before, or anything quite like it. 

You prop yourself up on your elbows and rub your eyes for a better look. 

“Sorry,” he supplies. His voice is still raspy with sleep and his oh-so-perfect hair shoots up in wild peaks. The sight makes your chest buzz. “She said you had to get up to.” 

You redirect your attention to Holly, pinching the neckline of your shirt back over your shoulder as you sit up. 

“Can we have eggs?” she asks you. 

“Sure.” 

She traps her lip between her two frontmost baby teeth. “Five?” 

“Five eggs!” Steve chides. “Just for you?” 

She turns to nod at him, smile blooming. 

He wears the same joy, ruffling her already unruly bed-head. “What are you a linebacker?” 

She giggles, clueless as to what he’s talking about. 

“Let’s start with two and if you’re still hungry you can have more,” you compromise. 

You are undeniably a better cook than Steve, but the bar is low after yesterday. You serve scrambled eggs and unburnt toast. Holly looks at her plate like she hasn’t been fed a day in her life and she shovels spoonfuls of it in her mouth like it’s her last meal. 

Steve watches her with an anxious frown. “Smaller bites, Holl.” 

She nods but doesn’t exactly slow her pace. Steve chases your eyes, knocking your ankle with his when you don’t look. He gives you that funny face parents make. Help me out. 

You shrug. “It’s just eggs. Babies eat eggs.” 

He cycles through several emotions—frustration that you won’t back him up, disbelief that babies eat eggs, and a lingering fear that she might choke. But he stops himself from asking all the what-ifs, he trusts you. 

Holly swallows half of her glass of chocolate milk in one go. Steve looks mildly horrified. 

“My God. She’s like a little human vacuum,” he mumbles through a mouthful of toast. 

You snort into your glass. If Holly heard him, she’s too preoccupied to care. 

After breakfast, Steve sets her up in front of the TV to watch cartoons while you clear the table. He disappears into the basement in search of a board game but comes back with some deflated, plastic thing. 

“What happened to the board game?” you ask. “What even is that?” 

“It’s a kiddie pool. Let’s go outside. It’s nice out.” 

“I didn’t bring a bathing suit.” 

“Me neither. Just wear that.” 

You wrinkle your nose down at your pajamas. “Go see if she wants to.” 

He smiles, retreating back into the living room. Shortly after, he shouts, “She said yes!” Footsteps pound up the stairs, followed by a second shout, “Don’t run!” 

Mrs. Wheeler calls the house phone and is pleased to hear your good report. She reminds you several times to apply sunscreen to Holly’s ears and that there’s an extra can in the upstairs bathroom. You wrangle Holly over to put her on and promise to call back before bedtime when she refuses to hang up. 

You sift through your bag, changing into the closest thing to swimwear. Steve takes forever in the bathroom, which doesn’t surprise you one bit. He comes out in a crisp white tee, way too expensive-looking for a pool day, and a pair of red gym shorts. 

“What are you, the lifeguard?” you joke. 

His hands snap to his hips. “Uhh, I’ll have you know I’ve been a certified lifeguard for two years, so yeah, actually.” 

You roll your eyes, brushing past him for the extra can of sunscreen. “Are you ready? Holly’s waiting.” 

“Yeah. Let me go blow up the pool. I’ll be outside.” 

You fix your hair in the mirror and tuck a few towels under your arm before heading downstairs. Holly’s already outside, criss-crossed in a big lawn chair and watching Steve with incredible boredom. He stands barefoot in the grass, the deflated pool pressed against his chest. He pulls away from the air valve when he notices you, quickly capping it with his thumb. 

“You okay?” you ask, laughing lightly. 

He nods, red-cheeked and breathless. “Think there’s a hole in it. Been blowin’ for like five minutes.” 

“Huh,” you drop the towels and take one end of the limp plastic. “Try again.” 

He funnels more air inside, it dispurses evenly underneath your palm. You don’t hear any air wheezing out so you turn it over for further inspection. 

“Oh, Steve. Here, look.” 

He pops his mouth off and follows your pointer finger. A second valve at the bottom, unhinged and releasing his hard work steadily. 

“Oh, you’re kidding me. Why’d they put one under there?”

You shrug, plugging it back up. “Holly, let’s get some sunscreen on so your mom doesn’t kill us.” 

Holly hops off the chair and skips to your side. You mist her skin in several layers, lathering a generous amount over her ears. When you move onto yourself, she grabs her basket of toys and climbs into the dry inflatable. Steve retrieves the hose and releases a cool stream into the pool, splashing Holly’s feet.

She squeals and scoots back. “Cold!” 

Steve’s thumb eclipses the opening so the water bursts out in wide a fan. He trains it at Holly, spraying her until she’s soaked and screaming. 

He’s giggling in a way you’ve never heard. Genuine, open-mouthed reels of laughter. You hate to admit it, but it’s really cute. So infectious you can’t help but join. 

He glances back for your reaction, pleasantly satisfied. And your smile incites a great idea. He swings the hose around, aiming it straight at you. 

“Steve!” Your arms shoot out to block the attack but it’s no use. 

“What?” he says, the epitome of innocence. 

Your eyes narrow but a smirk prevails. “Oh, you–” 

Holly tackles the back of his thigh with a scream. Steve stumbles forward and the hose slips from his grasp. 

You lunge for it before he even realizes what happened. And by the time he does, he’s already drenched. “Payback!” You laugh maniacally as he combs his hair out of his eyes. 

He’s laughing too, bent at the waist, still shaking his surprise. But only until he catches your gaze– then comes the glint of something playful, almost daring.

Steve barrels straight through the spray like a bull. He chokes your fingers over the nozzle, bending and bending the line until the water pours straight down your head. 

Holly dashes behind you to wrangle the wiggly tail of the hose, squealing at every layer of mist she catches. 

You and Steve wrestle with it, his hand on your hip, yours pushing his shoulder. He’s gentle but still strong. And his touch sears through the cold water, your skin tingling in his wake. 

The second he sticks the end down the back of your shirt you scream. “Okay, okay! I surrender!” 

He crimps the hose with one hand, smirking deviously. 

“I surrender,” you repeat, heaving through your laughter. 

Holly drops her end of the hose, backing up one slow step at a time. 

“Truce?” 

“Truce,” you nod, stepping up cautiously to shake his hand. 

He accepts your hand, using it to yank you closer and blast you again. You chase and dodge and tackle each other under the blazing sun until your legs feel like jelly. But the game eventually slows as exhaustion creeps in. 

You and Steve collapse in the lawn chairs while Holly lays belly-down in the pool. Water sloshes over the rim onto your toes as she kicks, a brief reprieve from the sticky heat. You're relaxed, but your mind wanders. You keep hoping the Wheelers won’t notice the sudden increase in their water bill. 

“Dustin talks about you all the time.”

You tear your eyes away from Holly, blinking back into reality as you face Steve. “What?”

“Dustin, he talks about you all the time. Kid loves you.” 

“Oh. He’s a sweet kid. Talks about you too. Keeps telling me to come see you at Scoops.”

Steve chuckles, more of a half-hearted puff of amusement than a real one. 

“Which, I’m sorry I haven’t, by the way,” you confess. 

His eyebrows jump, lips parting in soft surprise. “Oh, no. Don’t worry about it. He’s just being Dustin.” 

You press a blade of grass flat under your heel, as if the right words might sprout from the dirt. “I dunno. I mean, don’t you think it’s kinda weird that we don’t like talk? After everything?” 

The words bounce around Steve’s head for a minute. He fixates on your choice of weird. Weird, like bad? Weird like you want to talk? He can’t decide. And he’s afraid if he opens his mouth, the wrong words will tumble out. 

But he tries anyway, “Honestly, I thought you didn’t want to be friends. You were just so… distant after.” 

You rub the length of your arm, lips creasing into a frown. “Sorry, I was just. I don’t even know. Rattled, I guess.” 

“Yeah, rabid dogs with faces that split open and try to eat you tend to have that effect.” 

Your frown melts, little by little. 

“But we should’ve been there for you more. It was a hard time for everybody.” 

His apology echoes in your mind, the ache like a weight on your chest. 

“You could visit if you wanted to. At scoops. I could get you ice cream for free.” 

But the ache doesn’t stand a chance against the way he makes you feel. 

“Okay.” Your cheeks round with a sincere smile. “I’d like that.” 

He turns his head, as if to hide, but you still catch an echo of your own expression. Your eyes flicker across the contours of his profile, following the graceful line from his ear to his collar, before drifting over the sculpted shape of his arms and the long expanse of his thighs. Steve Harrington is objectively attractive. This isn’t the first time you’ve thought so. But it is the first time that fact makes your head spin. 

Maybe it’s the heat. The sun feels like it's roasting you alive, and Steve’s attractiveness certainly isn't helping. You’re feeling strange, thinking crazy things– the kind of thoughts that only come when you’re on the verge of heat stroke certainly. 

You stand abruptly and the grass sways underneath your feet. But you get your bearings before anyone notices. “Holly, can I come sit in the pool?”

Her eyes pop up, grin distorted underneath the water. She props her elbow up and rests her cheek in the palm of her hand. “What’s the password?”

“Umm, can you give me a hint?” 

A high-pitched hum. “Okay. She’s my favorite character.” 

“Uhh, Barbie?” 

“Nooo.” 

“Strawberry Shortcake?”

“Nooo.” 

“Hello Kitty?” 

“You’re really bad at this,” she giggles. It would be really cute if you weren’t possibly dying right now. 

“It’s Care Bears,” Steve interjects, snapping his fingers. “Uhh, the yellow one. Umm, Funshine!” 

“Yes!” Holly glows like the sun on Funshine herself. “Stevie can come in.”

Steve stands but he doesn’t get in. “Come on, Holl. It’s hot.”

“There’s a new password.”

“Okay, okay. Can I have another hint?” you ask. 

Her tongue curls out to lick the sweat off her lip. “My favorite color.” 

“Purple?” 

“Yes,” she nods and sits up. “But I really like yellow and blue and pink too.” 

You sink into the water, unsure if there was ever a wrong answer. It’s shallow and lukewarm, barely grazing the tops of your thighs, but it’s enough to cool the sun off your skin. Steve follows, and the space tightens awkwardly— the inflatable wasn’t built for three. His knee brushes yours while Holly’s toes nudge your foot, but neither of them seems to mind. 

You cup water up to your cheeks and pour it down your arms. 

“Better?” Steve asks, a droll little pinch to his features. 

He’s staring at you which is definitely not helping but you nod anyway. 

“Why don’t we move to the shade?” He stands before you or Holly agrees, offering his hand to pull you up. 

She races Steve to the nearest tree, though he doesn't stand much of a chance dragging the pool behind him. He refills it with fresh water and encourages Holly to splash you gently while he runs inside to make lunch. By the time he returns, you’re feeling much more yourself. 

“Bon Appétit,” Steve announces, lowering himself slowly onto a towel. He carries three animal-shaped plates stocked with fruit and PB&Js, one in each hand, another balanced on his forearm. 

Holly scrambles out of the water, plopping onto the other end of his towel. You get out too, shaking a second one out to lay beside theirs. 

“Lion or hippo?” he asks Holly. 

She hums for a long time, inspecting each plate meticulously before pointing to the lion.

“Good choice.” He sets the plate in front of her crossed legs and passes you the hippo. Steve takes the polar bear for himself, which notably only has half a sandwich. 

“Where’s the other half?” you ask. 

He takes a large bite, pressing his hand to his mouth to reply, “Ran out of bread.” 

“Here.” You rip one of your halves in half. 

“Thanks,” he says, syllables tangling as he chews. 

Holly watches the interaction fondly before pulling apart her own sandwich. It splits in a jagged line, mostly crust on one half. But happily, she thrusts the bigger piece toward Steve, jelly dribbling down her little fist. 

He tilts his head, a growing smile mirroring yours. “You eat it. I have enough now.” 

She crinkles her nose. “You eat it!” 

“No, you!” He squeezes her slim bicep. “You need to get big and strong.” 

“What about you?” 

“I’m already big and strong.” 

She considers this, giving him an obvious once-over that makes you laugh. “Trade?” 

“Okay, trade.” Steve chuckles, exchanging one of his halves for hers. He licks a stripe across his knuckle where her sticky fingers brushed his. It’s as innocent as the gesture can be but something about it has your cheeks burning in a way the sun couldn’t. 

Conversation tapers off, replaced with an easy quiet. Your stomach is satisfied with the food, but it’s your heart that feels the most nourished, steeped in the comfort of good company. You hadn’t expected to enjoy hanging out with Steve or Holly this much. 

Holly slouches into your arm, stretching her legs across the grass like a bridge between the towels. Her heels push into the pudge of Steve’s thigh, the faintest smirk crossing her lips. 

He squeezes her ankle until it darts away. 

Gradually, she presses again and in turn, he squeezes, but this time he doesn’t let go. She squeals as he drags her down your side. But all hell breaks loose when he starts tickling the bottom of her foot. 

She shrieks, thrashing and squirming against his hold, giggling in between gasps. “Ste–vie!” she cries.

Her laugh is too pure of a sound to be real, Steve thinks. His resolve crumbles, grip faltering. And Holly’s heel slams smack into his jaw. Steve winces, bending away to cradle his cheek. 

You straighten up. “You okay? Let me see.” 

Holly’s legs go limp in the grass, her shoulders tense in your lap. 

Steve’s hand slackens unveiling a red splotch not much darker than his sunburnt cheeks. He meets your eyes with a dismissive shake, “It’s okay.” 

You believe him. It doesn’t look nearly awful enough to make your concern stick. And his face has been through worse. Billy Hargrove painting his fists red with Steve’s blood is one of the things you remember most about that night. 

His attention dips down to Holly. She sniffles, eyes glistening in the sunlight with a frown nearly reaching her chin. 

“It’s okay. I’m okay, Holl.” 

Holly putters, whimpers drowning the edges of her words. “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay! I promise! It doesn’t even hurt,” he reassures, cupping her kneecap. 

You tug her off the ground and she sinks into your arms naturally. Hot tears pave a path down your neck only to dissolve in the fabric of your shirt. You coax her sobs out, one back rub at a time. 

Steve waits until she settles with this pitiful look on his face. “I know you didn’t mean to Hollybear. Just an accident. Hmm?” 

She nods against your chin. 

He strokes the back of her arm, fingers grazing yours where they work. “Please don’t cry.” 

Holly sniffles. 

“You know what might help me feel better?” She lifts a sweaty cheek off your chest as Steve opens his arms. “A hug.” 

She pushes out of your hands into his. He holds her tight, providing one loving squeeze after another. 

This is not how you pictured Steve to be under normal babysitting circumstances. A voice like sweet honey, eyes warm like the sun. He’s very soft, and so undeniably kind. And not just to Holly, but also you. 

Steve hooks the spare towel closer, draping it across her back. “Lean back,” he tells her. 

She avoids his gaze as she does, tears melting away under his touch. 

“You know what I think?” He cinches the towel at her collar like a cloak. 

She hums. 

“I think we should have popsicles for dessert.” 

Holly meets his eyes then, excitement glimmering underneath the droop of lingering guilt. 

“How does that sound?”

“Good,” she admits meekly. 

A smirk thins his lips. “I dunno though. What if we get a tummy ache?” He pokes her belly through the towel. “Maybe it’s not–”

“No– I want one!”

“I dunnooo,” he sings.

“Please, Stevie! You already said.”

“How bad do you want it? Like this much?” He pinches his fingers together, leaving the slightest gap between them. 

“No, no!” She shakes her head, casting her arms out as far as they’ll go. “This much!” 

He sighs loudly, shoulders sagging for the dramatic touch. “Okay.” 

Holly’s arms curl around his neck as he stands. He’s more than happy to carry her, but the added weight makes him groan. 

You trail behind automatically, half enjoying the show and just as excited for a treat. Steve pins the back door open with his foot, returning a smile you hadn’t realized you were sharing. Your cheeks are starting to protest, sore with overwhelming happiness. 

“What color do you want?” 

“Pink! Pink!” Holly shouts in his ear, loud enough to make you wince. But Steve doesn’t react in the slightest to her volume. You’d all taken a piece of the Upside Down with you after El sealed it up. And just when you seemed to forget it, you’d be reminded in the form of scars, nightmares, headaches, and in Steve’s case, hearing loss. 

He opens the freezer, Holly propped on his hip. She’s far too big to be carried like that comfortably but he does it anyway. 

“Pink for Holly. Red for Steve.” He leans back to find your face. “For you?” 

You purse your lips, “Surprise me.” 

Steve stows Holly on the countertop so he can snip the plastic tips. She receives her popsicle first, then you, and finally Steve. 

“Matching,” Holly observes as you sit beside them on the couch. 

Steve crosses his popsicle over your identically red one when you raise an eyebrow. “Look at that,” he says. 

She hums, gnawing on the plastic wrapper. Steve pushes the ice up for her and thumbs away the dribble at the corner of her mouth. She doesn’t seem to notice, but it catches you off guard. Steve’s such a natural at this you almost can’t believe he’s an only child. 

You turn the TV on to an episode of Care Bears as Holly slumps into Steve’s chest, slurping the last of her slush loudly. 

“Sleepy?” you ask when she kneads her eyes. 

“No.”

You chuckle, combing her frizz back. “Okay.” 

“You know, it’s okay if you are sleepy,” Steve mentions, equally amused. 

“I know. I’m not.” Her tone is casual, a portrait of nonchalance, despite the yawn that slips out afterward. 

You and Steve exchange a look of mutual fondness. 

“I’m pretty tired,” Steve declares, reclining into the cushions with a fake yawn. “I think I’ll take a nap.” 

Holly twists against him to watch. It doesn’t take long for her little fingers to poke and prod his lashline.

He peels one eye open, playfully cocking an eyebrow. 

She giggles and pinches the skin closed. 

You’re trapped between nervously supervising she doesn’t poke his eye out and leaving to get a baby wipe for her hands which you imagine are very sticky with popsicle juice. Either way, you’ll be surprised if Steve doesn’t have pink eye by morning. 

“I’m sleeping,” he whines and headbutts her palm gently. 

“Nooo,” she whines back, wedging her hand across his mouth. Delirium is setting in, a nap is imminent. 

Steve opens his eyes, giddy just the same. “Okay. You got me.” 

Holly frees his mouth to swipe a streak of red from his chin. Her tongue pokes out in prime concentration. 

A staggered laugh of disbelief is shaken from Steve’s chest. He hadn’t expected Holly to be difficult, but she’s been nothing short of delightful. She’s sweeter than Mike and Nancy combined and smarter than he thought kids her age could be. For a self-indulgent second, he hopes that his kids will turn out something like her. 

Holly reels back around to lay on her side, eyelids sagging with an inevitable heaviness. Steve draws the towel up to her chin, fixing his palm to her back. You watch her drift off, eyes slipping up every so often. 

When you’re positive she’s out, you cautiously dislodge the popsicle wrapper from her fingers. Steve passes his as you stand. 

One of the many hard things about kids is all the cleaning. Holly’s as neat as a five-year-old gets, and still, every moment of peace is an opportunity spent putting things back where they belong. You head outside to tip the pool over and collect stray towels and toys that didn’t make it back in. 

By the time you return, Steve’s passed out, mouth ajar, head craned back against the couch. It’s not a particularly attractive expression– he’d probably be embarrassed to wake to your staring– but you can’t find anything other than endearment in yourself.  

You shower and change into fresh clothes and end up on the opposite couch to watch TV. But Care Bears isn’t all that entertaining anymore so you rest your eyes for just a second. 

A second turns to several and when you reopen your eyes you discover the clock is two hours ahead of where it was before. 

The silence is only comforting for a fleeting moment before anxiety creeps in. Your eyes flick from the TV, now powered off, to the other couch where Steve and Holly are not where you left them. Nor are they in the dining room, kitchen, basement, or backyard. You take the stairs two steps at a time and nearly trip over a blanket strewn across the banister when Holly screams. 

You’d have kicked her door off the hinges if it came to it but are thankful it’s already open. Holly is perfectly safe, bent over the remnants of what you assume was a pillow fort. 

You release a breath caught in your throat and sag against the doorframe. Steve offers an apologetic smile when he notices. 

Holly glances over but quickly returns to their game. “You’ve destroyed my kingdom!” she shouts, drilling a finger into Steve’s chest. “Off with your head!” 

You’re too stunned to laugh, but a noise of confusion skips out. Steve gawks at Holly in pretend despair, scrubbing any seeping amusement off his lips with the back of his hand. He’s dressed in sweats, Holly in a princess dress. But more importantly, his face has been caked in makeup and his hair twisted into two fluffy knots. 

“You!” Holly yells with a scowl aimed at you. “Hold him down!” 

Steve pleads at your ankles, pressing his forehead to the carpet in prayer. It takes every ounce of you not to break character and laugh. There’s something so surreal about Steve Harrington, former King of Hawkins High, in sparkly eyeshadow, kneeling before a little girl to beg for his life. It’s hilarious as it is heartwarming. 

“If I may propose a suggestion!” You counter, equally dramatic. “A trade! For this silly man’s life, we will help rebuild your kingdom twice as big! Princess I–” 

“Queen!”

Steve snorts but she must miss it. 

“My apologies. Queen Holly, I can assure you this new Kingdom will have all of the finest luxuries that royalty like yourself might desire.” 

She takes a second to process the big words. “Fine!” She sneers, diving onto her mattress which is absent of all its sheets and blankets. “Chop! Chop!”

You bite your lip, chasing the fervent smile away. Steve gets right to work, sorting pillows from most to least sturdy. You steal another chair from Nancy’s desk and help Steve double-knot the roof to it. It’s no mansion, but it is long enough for Steve to lie down in, which is a job well done in your book. Especially when you’re under strict supervision and listening to a thread of loud critiques. 

You lift the door flap for Holly to crawl through. “Your quarters, Your Grace.” 

She glances over her shoulder with a wicked, but mostly adorable, expression. “My name is not Grace! It’s Holly! Queen Holly to you!” 

The explanation dies on your tongue because how can you possibly argue with that? You’re just grateful to still have your head. 

After the grand tour, Queen Holly disappears into one of the tent’s offshoots with a handful of stuffed animals she's referring to as her royal guards. 

Steve scoots closer, whispering behind his hand, “I think we need to stage a coup.” 

You lean into his good ear, affection spilling off your tone, “I didn’t know she could be so mean.” 

“Me neither! She must be hanging out with Mike.” 

“Must be.” You grin for what feels like the millionth time today. 

You’re sitting knee to knee, close enough to catch the heat of Steve’s breath on your cheek. You drag the pad of your finger across his cheekbone where teal eyeshadow has been caked on in several layers. “I like this,” you compliment. 

I kinda forgot she put that on.” He ducks his head bashfully, peeking up through his eyelashes. “Do I look pretty?” 

“The prettiest.” 

He receives it as teasing, but it’s true, you do think Steve is pretty. A strong nose, kind eyes, and sure, maybe the hair. But now that you’re inches apart, you notice twin smile lines, a series of freckles down his cheek, and a faded scar across his forehead. You linger there more than anywhere else, under the guise of judging Holly’s makeup job, of course. 

But the silence twists into something less comfortable with each passing second. A brief twitch of emotion flickers across Steve’s face, gone before you can name it. “So… pizza for dinner?” he blurts out. 

Before you’ve processed what happened, Holly shouts, “Cheese please!” 

Steve splinters from your gaze, calling back, “Yes, My Queen.” 

Dinner is pleasantly easy. The pizza’s delivered and paper plates save you from the hassle of dishes after. You eat at the kitchen table, sharing stories and smiles, strangely like a family. 

And after dinner, Holly has a bath; and after bath, Steve whisks her off to bed. You’re left to your own devices for once, a benevolent bout of peace, but still, you can’t seem to relax. 

The spray of the bathroom light paves the hall leading to Holly’s room. You tiptoe up to the door and peek inside. 

Steve’s on the floor, slouched against the side of the bed cradling Holly to his chest. He flinches as your shadow veers across the moonlit wall.  

“Sorry,” you whisper, dropping onto your knees beside them. 

Holly picks her head up, tear tracks shimmering as she turns. Her lip wobbles through a whimper. 

You soften like wax near a flame, eyes flitting to Steve who looks equally at a loss. 

She curls her knees into his tummy in a way that probably hurts. The poor thing dissolves into fresh tears, spilling out faster than Steve can chase away. 

“Holls, it’s okay, honey. Me and Stevie are here, okay?” 

She strains to speak through a chain of gasps, “I want my Mommy!” 

“I know, I know. She’ll be back before you know it, I promise,” you steer sweat-slick hair behind her ear. 

“I want her now.” 

“We’ve got ya, Holl,” Steve chimes in. 

“We’re right here.” 

“No– Mommy!” 

It goes like this for a while, soothing reassurances met with unyielding resolve. Holly’s not one to be stubborn for no reason. She’s so exhausted and upset it breaks your heart. You try reading and music and back rubs but there seems to be no end to her sobbing. 

Steve strokes her ankle where it’s now tucked underneath her in your lap. He looks exhausted– hair draped over his forehead like a claw, extra weight embedded in each of his eyelids. You’re both at your breaking point. “You wanna sleep with me tonight Hollybear?” he says in a tone gentler than you’ve ever heard. 

“No. Mommy,” she persists. 

“You can sleep with her when she gets back. But tonight you get to have a sleepover with Steve. Or you can even sleep with me in Nancy’s bed, okay?” 

Red-rimmed eyes flick between you and Steve. Neither option is as good as Mom. 

“Both,” Holly whines. 

“Wanna lay with both of us?” 

She nods. “In the middle.” 

“Okay,” you turn to Steve. “We can do that.” Your words are colored like a question but he’s already nodding his answer. 

He shovels Holly from your lap, cheek pressing into hers in an unspoken exchange of relief. “Alright, munchkin. Let’s go steal Nancy’s big bed. Sound good?” 

She hums her approval into his ear. 

Steve pokes Nancy’s door open with his foot, swinging around to the tucked side of the bed. You crawl across your end as Holly slides off his chest. She molds herself against your shoulder, tugging Steve closer when he settles. 

“Goodnight, Hollybear,” he says. 

She steals your hand from underneath the comforter, then his where it lies on the sheet. Your knuckles brush Steve’s where they are stapled to her chest. “Goodnight,” she sighs. 

Steve strokes up and down the back of her hand, his touch a quiet catalyst. She’s asleep in mere minutes, snoring softly, fingers limp against yours. 

Steve nudges your hand where it’s already pressed to his, whispering when you turn, “Am I crazy that I find all of this kinda fun?” 

You shake your head, a smile working its way across your lips. “Guess that would make me crazy too.” 

“I know I always complain about driving those little shits around but Holly’s actually really fun to babysit.” 

“Yeah, she is. At least it’s not the end of the world this time, right?”

“Yeah, that probably helps, huh?” Amusement ebbs into a sigh. “I’m kinda dreading going home, to be honest.”

“Why don’t we put Mike in a wig? Kidnap Holly for ourselves.” 

He snorts into his pillow. “Oh, yeah. That’ll work. ‘Yeah, I dunno Mrs. Wheeler, she had a crazy growth spurt while you were gone.’”

“We’d take good care of her.”

“We would,” he nods. “You’re really good with her.” 

“So are you. Kinda surprised me actually.”

“Really? Cause Dustin tells me weekly I’d make a good mother.” 

“Yeah, but they’re different. Older. And don’t get me wrong, you’re great with them and they love hanging out with you. Holly’s just little. You’re so much gentler with her, and like, you always seem to know what to do.” 

“For the record, I have no clue what I’m doing.”

“Me neither. I don't know what Mrs. Wheeler was thinking asking us to do this.”

Intertwined laughter fades, but something else— something similar— lingers. An almost tangible buzz of energy, as if the silence itself is alive with unspoken words. You entertain the idea that the feeling’s not exclusive to just you. That Steve hears the same jitter in his pulse and feels the same flutter against his ribs. That you aren’t alone to be feeling such a way.    

“Is it–” 

“Are we–”

“Sorry, you go,” he jabbers out. 

The words trickle back down your throat, too thick to cross your tongue again. “You can probably go now,” you decide. 

His gaze jumps to Holly’s chest where his hand is still coupled with one of hers. 

“If you want,” you amend. “You don’t have to.” 

“You don't mind? If I stayed?”

You shake your head.

“Just worried she’ll wake up if I move.” 

You try to flatten your excitement as you reply, “You can stay.” 

His gaze swims with yours across Nancy's room, skimming over the cluttered dresser, the desk strewn with books and pens, to the shuttered closet doors.

“Sorry about– you know– I heard Nancy… dumped you,” you say, immediately regretting the awkward phrasing.

“Harsh,” he squints and casts you a bittersweet grin. “But true.”

“Is it… weird? To be in here?” 

“A little. But not as much as I thought it would be. Hell of a lot better than Mike’s room.” 

You hum, watching the gentle shift in his brows. 

“Is it weird for you?” 

“Me?” you ask. “In what way?” 

“You and Nance. You don’t always see eye to eye.” 

“I mean, yeah. When our decisions involve risking our lives– or the kids– she’s pretty damn impulsive. And she can be real stubborn and selfish sometimes too. But I dunno, I still love her. She’s been sort of like a sister since everything started. I think that’s why we argue.” 

“What does that make me? Your brother?” 

You roll your eyes. “No, you’re the stray dog we adopted.” 

“Okay. That’s just mean.”

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding.” Your laugh laps out louder than you intend, but Holly remains still. “I dunno who you’d be. The love interest?”

“I can work with that, sexy love interest–”

You scoff. “Don’t put words in my mouth, Harrington.” 

“Okay, okay. But love interest because…”

“Cause you dated Nance.”

“Oh,” he exhales. 

“You don’t agree? Should we go back to stray dog?” 

“Oh, shut up. I’m going to bed.” Steve rolls onto his side with a sigh. 

“Keep your snoring to a minimum, please.” 

He grumbles, narrowing his eyes at your smirk. “I don’t snore.”

“You do. I could hear it from here last night.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“I did,” you argue. “It definitely wasn’t Holly.” 

“Whatever. Goodnight.” 

“Night.” 

Only when your eyes are closed does his smile finally emerge. It’s silly how quickly you can pull it out of him. It throws him for a loop every time. But with you at his side, maybe he’ll dream of happier things for once. Either way, it’s easier to fall asleep, just knowing you’re there falling asleep too. 

ᯓ★

“Shhhh!” 

“No, you shhhh,” a lighter voice giggles. 

“Holly,” Steve scolds, mirth buttering his tone. You know he’s smiling by the sound alone. 

Holly’s laughter triples in volume but then is abruptly muffled. 

“Ew– did you just lick me?” 

And this all just sounds way too cute to miss out on. You pry your lashes apart, still sticky with sleep, and flip on your side to face them. 

They freeze, eyes widening adorably in sync. Steve is reclined against the headboard, an arm bent behind his neck. Holly is sprawled halfway across his tummy, toes tickling your side. 

“Sorry,” he offers like you’d be mad. But how could you possibly be anything but enamored waking up to their giggly little voices? If you could be woken up like this every day, you would. 

You shake your head, scratching underneath your eyes. The walls are bathed in muted colors, waiting to be warmed by the sunrise. It’s still early. 

Holly rolls off of Steve onto the floor and barrels out of the room. 

“Where are you going?” he shouts. 

“Potty!” 

Steve turns to you, eyes roving across your bedhead for an embarrassingly long amount of time. “Good morning.”

“Morning.”

“Did she kick you last night?” 

You rake your fingers through your hair, quickly moving them to your lips to stifle a yawn. “Not that I remember.” 

“Oh, you’d remember. Trust me. She was on top of me the whole night.” He’s smiling like an idiot. He couldn’t sound annoyed about it if he tried. 

“Aww, she loves you,” you coo. 

“Yeah,” he agrees, pink dusting his cheeks, “I can’t wait to do this.”

“Hmm?”

“Settle down. Have a family. I wasn’t, like, a hundred percent sure before, but I am now.” 

“You’ll be a good dad.”

He beams at you like he’s just won the lottery. “You think?” 

“For sure.” And he really would. You’re sure of it after last night. 

He opens his mouth to speak but your stomach cuts him off with an obnoxious growl. “Hungry?” Steve chuckles. 

“Shut up.” You swipe your pillow and smack him. 

He smacks you back, pulling it to his chest before you can steal it. “Wanna go out for breakfast?” 

Your brain short circuits. You forget you’re babysitting and not just laying in bed with Steve Harrington for fun. He is not asking you on a date like your heart assumes. 

“Oh, yeah. Sure. For sure,” you sputter out, heat licking up the back of your neck. 

“I’ll go see what she wants,” he slides onto the floor and shakes his legs awake. 

Steve’s tall, even sluggishly slumped over. But even more so as he stretches– arms rising with his shirt, revealing a fraction of golden skin above his waistband. A long, lazy moan climbs out of his chest. 

You push the comforter off before you burst into flames. 

Holly determines she wants IHOP because they put chocolate chips and sprinkles on the pancakes. Steve supplies her with an outfit and wrestles her hair into pigtails with bows to match her skirt. It’s surprisingly coordinated and admittedly cute, but maybe you’re wrong to be so surprised– he knows his way around a comb and a closet. 

“Can I get pancakes?” she asks Steve, perched on the bottom step of the stairs. 

He’s cross-legged on the floor, hunched over to lace her sneakers. “I already told you yes, silly goose.”

“Can I get extra sprinkles?”

“Uhh, does your mom let you?”

She thinks about it before answering. “Yes, I think so.” 

“Sure, then.” He grins, clapping her tied shoes together before standing. 

You shoulder Holly’s bag, stuffed with books and toys and a jacket in case it rains, courtesy of Steve who insisted she might need it. “Ready?” you ask him.

Steve races Holly to the car while you lock up. Mrs. Wheeler installed Holly’s car seat in Steve’s beamer before she left but you’ve yet to use it. 

“It’s too tight,” Holly whines from the car, loud enough to hear from the top of the driveway. 

“I know, ‘m working on it,” Steve assures, working his fingers under the straps. “Just gotta figure it out.”

“Hurry!” 

“I’m hurrying, Holl. Give me a sec’.” 

You open the passenger door and peek around the headrest to view her. The belts are buckled but not tight enough to spark concern. “He’s going as fast as he can, Holly. Be patient.” 

She squirms under his hands, exhaling sharply. And like her, Steve’s frustration mounts, jaw tightening, brow furrowing. His fingers keep slipping and he’s not totally sure which button or strap is for loosening. 

You swing around to Holly’s door and cup Steve’s shoulder. “Let me try.”

He knocks his head on the roof as he pulls out. 

You wince, “Okay?” 

He softens as you reach for his neck, though your fingers never land. Still, the tender look you offer is enough to cure any bumps or bruises he might’ve gotten. 

It’s an unfortunate amount of trial and error before Holly is fastened in properly. Steve cranks the AC on full blast when you finally settle into your seats and circles through radio stations after he backs out. He finds the kid’s station, playing a Muppet’s song that Steve apparently knows every word to. He sings unapologetically loud, a stupid grin sewn to his face. 

When you arrive, Holly happily holds your hand through the parking lot, still clutching tightly as you wait to be seated. She climbs onto your lap to make room on the waiting bench for a woman looking ready to pop out a baby any minute. Steve stands at your other side, arm braced behind your neck. 

“How old is she?” the woman asks you fondly. 

“She’s five,” you return her smile, bouncing your knee. “Right, Holly?”

Holly twists to hide in your neck, nodding. 

“She’s very cute,” she says with such love you already believe her baby is in good hands. “Your sister?” Her eyes flick from yours to Steve who is mostly oblivious to the conversation. 

“No, just babysitting.” 

“Oh, well, you’ll make good parents one day.” 

The comment renders you speechless. It’s not that you hadn’t considered children before, but you hadn’t pictured them with Steve. With his smile, his eyes, his nose. It’s that this woman who doesn’t even know you imagined it before you had. You blink at her stupidly through a forced smile.

Steve squeezes your shoulder, ripping you from your thoughts. “You okay? Table’s ready.” 

You get seated in a booth overlooking the parking lot. 

Holly bends across Steve’s lap to point through the window. “I see our car!” 

“Yeah, that’s her.” 

Holly’s face contorts with confusion. “Her? Your car’s a girl?” 

“Yep–”

The waitress swings over with a handful of menus and a hasty introduction. Steve already knows what he wants and he places Holly’s order after his, making sure to clarify the extra sprinkles when she calls his name repeatedly to remind him. As soon as you decide, the waitress bustles off with the pair of menus to another table. 

Holly slides her paper menu closer, examining each activity. 

Steve picks open the box of crayons, revealing a stingy three– red, green, and blue. “You know, for a multi-million dollar company, you’d think they could afford more than three crayons.”

“And more staff,” you add, eyes tailing another waitress zipping from one table to another. 

Holly points at herself, Steve, and then you, counting, “One, two three. Three crayons for three people.” 

“Yeah, good point,” Steve pats her thigh. “Always the optimist.” 

“Op-ta-nist?”

“Op-ta-mist,” he clarifies. 

She snags the green crayon and presses it to the paper. “What’s that?”

Steve opens and closes his mouth. “Well, it’s like– it’s when you– you’re happy a lot. Grass is always greener on the other side, you know?” 

Steve lost her at the metaphor but she’s too focused on staying inside the lines to care about the definition of optimist anymore. 

“You got there eventually. Sort of,” you tease. 

His foot stabs your ankle under the table. “Shut up.” 

Steve lets Holly win every single round of tic-tac-toe while showering her with praise, convincing her she's a tactical mastermind. You can’t quite tell if she’s onto him, but she’s too busy grinning to say otherwise.

The waitress plants your and Steve’s plates on the table first, reaching behind to scoop Holly’s off her tray next. “And, chocolate chip pancakes with extra sprinkles for the little one.” 

“Thank you,” you manage to say before she leaves to tend to another table flagging her down. “Holly, want syrup?”

“Yes, please.” 

You pour a spiral of maple syrup over Holly’s pancakes. The amount of sugar on her plate might qualify it more as candy than breakfast. And she’s ogling the food like it’ll grow legs and run away. 

“Steve, will you cut them up for her?”

He nods, swallowing a mouthful of scrambled eggs and trading his fork for a knife. As soon as he slides her meal back over, Holly ravages the pancakes, spooning another bite in her mouth before she’s swallowed the last.

The waitress whisks by with drink refills, joy driving her to a smile at the sight of Holly and her half-empty plate. 

“I swear we feed her at home,” Steve chuckles through his own joke. What a dad thing to say. “Can we get some more napkins?” 

And it’s like he knows what’s going to happen. Holly stretches across the table for the syrup bottle, drawing back with an open-mouthed grimace. 

“Uh-oh.” She presses her chin to her chest. There’s a patch of syrup turning the hem of her pink shirt brown. 

“What?” Steve throws a pigtail behind her shoulder so he can see. “Oh. It’s okay.” 

“It was an accident,” Holly explains. 

“I know. It’s okay.” 

“It’s sticky.”

“It’ll wash off.” Steve dunks a clean napkin in his cup of water and dabs it across the stain. 

“It’s too cold,” she complains, pinching the fabric away from her skin. 

“Sorry. It’ll dry. Have to get the syrup out, though.” 

You deliver another wad of napkins to Steve’s hand. He pushes them against her belly, soaking up any excess water. His patience never frays.

Holly looks up, worry etched into her voice, “Will it stain?” 

“I dunno,” you supply truthfully. “We’ll throw it in the wash when we get home.” 

Steve pays the bill with the cash the Wheelers left and scrapes his wallet for change, stacking two quarters on the table when he finds them. “Since you’ve been such a good listener. There’s a sticker machine up front,” he tells Holly. 

Steve might as well have slapped a ticket to Disney World on the table. Holly literally jumps for joy, right out of her seat. She buys a random Lisa Frank sticker and pockets the second coin for her piggy bank. 

It’s Steve’s idea to go to the playground afterward. The park is teeming with life, the kind of chaos that only a weekend morning can bring. Swings creak under the weight of eager kids, and the monkey bars have their own traffic jam. Parents wrap the playground like a barricade, their chatter drowned out by laughter and shouts. But the heat presses down ruthlessly, making every step feel like you’re wading through a sauna.

Holly tears away from Steve’s hand as soon as her shoes hit the mulch, rejoicing in her newfound freedom with a little skip. She races up a set of stairs to wait for a turn on the tallest slide. 

“Should’ve brought sunscreen,” Steve says, eyes following Holly down the slide. She flashes you both a prideful smile from the bottom. 

“She’ll survive. We won’t stay long. It’s too hot.” You pull your shirt out to fan your chest, dabbing the sweat beading at your sternum. 

“Careful!” he shouts as she hops from one platform to the next. She continues to bounce along the path, one wobbly leap at a time. A particularly long jump has Steve cringing. He’s trying really hard not to be overanxious and it’s as sweet as it is amusing. 

He side-eyes your grin with an opposing frown. You don’t even have to say anything for him to know you’re teasing him. “What?” 

You shrug, smile doubling. “You.”

“What about me?” 

“You’re just funny.” 

“My concern is funny to you?” he accuses. 

“She’s fine, Steve.” 

He makes a noise of disagreement, arms crossed and a hip popped out dramatically far. You see why Dustin teases him for being motherly. 

Holly struggles with the monkey bars. She makes it halfway across before her arms start to shake and her hands slip. Steve lunges forward as he watches her plummet to the ground. But before he can swoop in, Holly pops up, dusts the dirt from her skirt with a nonchalant shrug, and marches on, completely unfazed. 

“See. She’s fine,” you reassure.

“Whatever,” Steve grumbles, strolling away to sulk in private. 

He makes a slow lap around the playground, hands planted firmly on his hips, casting a critical eye over the chaos. Meanwhile, you snag a spot on a bench, where most parents are engrossed in magazines or gossip, blissfully detached. You watch Steve get roped into playing a monster, though you can tell he secretly loves it. 

It doesn’t take long for him to start stomping around, roaring and growling, chasing the kids as they shriek and scatter. And when they finally tire him out, he collapses beside you, his shirt clinging to his sweaty back, and his breath coming in ragged bursts. 

“I told her five more minutes,” he says, stretching an arm across the back of the bench behind you. His curls shine honeycomb gold in the spray of sunlight and his skin echoes the warmth of desert sand, softened pink like the blush of sunset. He looks strikingly gorgeous sprawled out beside you. 

Holly trots over not much later, alarmingly upset. 

You sit up, urgently shaking Steve’s thigh to grab his attention. “What happened, honey?” 

“I– I was,” she sucks in a staggered breath, “I was climbing the stairs and– and a boy, he pushed me.” Twin rivulets of tears are unleashed with a blink, converging at the curve of her chin. 

You scan her from head to toe. Nothing looks broken or bloody. “Are you hurt?” 

“No,” she strains. 

You drag her into your chest, pressing a loving cheek to her ear. “Did it scare you?” 

She nods, hiccuping into your neck. 

“I’m sorry, Holly. That wasn’t nice at all.” 

Steve’s gaze shifts between Holly and the playground to search for guilty suspects. He finds none, thankfully, though he’s still itching to wring out whatever parent it is not watching their kid– which is unfortunately most of them.

“Let me see,” he coaxes Holly over for his own checkup. He picks a piece of mulch from her hair and flicks off another stamped into her calf. “Think you’ll make it? Should we call an ambulance?” 

She doesn’t smile at his joke like you hope. 

“Ready to go home?” you ask.

She sniffs into her sleeve. “Yeah.” 

“Alright.” Steve hoists her up as he stands. Holly's long legs wrap around his waist, feet swaying against his thighs as he walks. 

Holly naps on the way home, not by choice but by sheer exhaustion. She convinces herself she didn’t actually fall asleep when she wakes up in the driveway, swearing, “I just closed my eyes.” 

But it’s quickly apparent that twenty minutes was not enough. She cries because her leftover pizza for lunch is cold in the middle and again when she rubs the sauce in her eye. You turn on a movie, hoping to induce another nap, but The Aristocats is just too good to sleep through. Thankfully, her grumpiness wanes into a more manageable pout, her arms uncrossing to snuggle closer to you on the couch.

When the movie ends, she slinks up, her departure leaving your lap cold. After a long-winded debate about what to do, you all finally agree on playing a board game. Steve steers Holly downstairs to pick one out and she returns with a rekindled excitement, dropping the game Twister at your feet. 

There’s nothing inherently wrong with Twister, but you were expecting something easier. Candy Land or Chutes and Ladders. So you let Steve and Holly go first. The round ends in a heap of tangled limbs and giggles, a winner unclear. But Holly wins the match against you, admittedly fair and square. And it’s all fun and games until she insists you and Steve must compete. 

“Ehh, Holly. My arms are tired,” you reason. 

“But I wanna be the referee too,” she whines. “Pleaseee!” 

Steve shrugs at you, a playful little curve to his lips. If you say no, that makes only you the bad guy. And you just can’t bring yourself to break Holly’s heart over something so simple. 

“Okay,” you sigh, ignoring the nervous tick in your chest. 

Holly pushes you by the hips onto the mat to stand opposite Steve. She gets situated on the floor and excitedly flicks the spinner, calling, “Left foot. Blue!” 

You each step toward a blue dot. Easy. 

“Right foot on green.” 

Right foot, green. You’re shoulder to shoulder now, hips angled toward his. 

“Right hand… yellow!” 

“Here we go,” you mumble, bending down to reach yellow. “Okay.” 

Steve chuckles and follows suit, free hand hovering awkwardly behind your shoulder. 

You twist your head until you can’t, just to see the stupid look on his face. “You know, your long legs really give you an unfair advantage here.” 

“Don’t be a sore loser,” he chides, hot breath fanning the back of your already hot neck. 

“Don’t speak so soon, Harrington. You’re the one who’s gonna lose.” 

“Right hand, red,” Holly announces. 

You lean back toward red, headbutting Steve’s side so you don’t fall. He curls into position next, swaying until his back pocket is inches from your nose. 

“Oh my God, Steve. Get your butt out of my face!” You’d shove him if you had an extra hand. 

Holly giggles in that contagious way kids laugh, automatically pulling one from Steve. 

“Don’t make me laugh. If I go down, so are you,” he reminds you. 

“Umm, left foot green,” Holly says. 

Steve groans dramatically, whining. “What! Holly, that’s impossible. Spin again.” 

She cackles, reminiscent of Queen Holly. “Nope, you have to! That’s the rules!”

And somehow, you both make it to green without knocking each other over. But you’re getting distracted– Steve’s hand has brushed your calf three times now and his shirt is loose, hanging off his chest in a way that gives you a clear view of his tummy. This might as well be sabotage. You tear your eyes away. You must focus. You didn’t care much for winning before, but something about Steve brings out your competitive side. 

“Right hand, green.” 

You bow your knee until it’s wedged uncomfortably into your ribcage so you can reach the green. Your thighs quickly begin to ache. You won’t last much longer in this position. Especially not when Steve arches over you like a human bridge, the zipper of his jeans tickling your back where your shirt has scrunched up. 

He shakes his hair out of the way so he can see you, albeit upside down. His smile stretches wide, radiating pure, unfiltered joy. He’s having the time of his life, and admittedly, so are you. 

Your elbow juts out, nearly giving under the weight of his gaze alone. But you snap it back in place and practically beg Holly, “Spin.” 

“Left foot blue!”

You and Steve lunge for the same blue circle. His sock slides against the tarp, leg extending much farther than he’s prepared for. His arm buckles, chest slamming down against your back. Your elbows give out immediately under the force of his weight, jaw slamming into the floor. 

“Shit, sorry! You okay?” 

A burst of laughter tumbles out of your mouth before you can answer. But maybe it’s an answer in itself. Your chin stings but you're fine. Better than fine, even. 

As soon as Steve scrambles off of you, you flip onto your back. His eyes trickle down you in assessment, eyebrows knitting together, mouth twitching like it can’t decide whether to frown or smile. 

“I’m okay,” you manage, smiley and breathless. 

“Did you hit your face?”

“Just my chin.” 

He reaches for your face with hesitant fingers. “Sorry.”

You shake your head, bolstering his wrist as he cups your chin. “I definitely won.” 

And just like that, all his worry washes away. He pries your hand from his wrist, wrenching you up to sit. “Technically, you hit the floor first.” 

You glance over to Holly for her professional referee’s opinion but find she’s no longer there. “Where’s–”

“I found it!” she yells from the upstairs. What exactly she found, you’ve no idea. But she comes stomping down the stairs not a minute later with a little box in her hands. Bandaids, you realize, as she dumps the contents on the twister mat beside you. “They’re Hello Kitty,” she says, stripping the paper backing off of one. 

You let her little fingers stamp it to the curve of your chin. It’s not bleeding, nor does it really hurt that bad, but the gesture is sweet enough to melt your heart. “Thank you, Holly. You’re so gentle. You should be a candy striper.” 

“I don’t think I’m old enough.”

“When you’re older then.”

Steve decides Twister is far too dangerous to keep playing, but Holly demands a game of Mouse Trap so it works out. Steve wins, despite you and Holly’s strategic alliance halfway through. And by then, she’s asked about dinner twice so you shelve the rest of the games and head up to the kitchen to decide together. 

Holly hums into the freezer, “Chicken nuggets… pizza rolls– oh! Eggos, can we have Eggos?” 

Steve bites the inside of his cheek, peering over her, “Why don’t we cook something? We could have a fancy dinner. Like a dinner party.”

“Can we dress up?”

“Sure,” he shrugs, flipping a pack of ground beef over. 

“Pasta?” you call from the pantry.

“Ooh, yeah. Let’s do that.”

Holly sprints upstairs for a costume, much more interested in the party than the dinner. You pull a box of noodles and an unopened jar of sauce from the shelf while Steve grabs a pot from the cabinet and sticks it under the faucet. 

“Careful. Stove’s on,” you announce, flicking the dial on high. 

Steve backs up from the sink slowly, water sloshing over the side of the pot when he bumps the table. 

“Steve,” you chuckle, pulling a dish towel from the oven handle, “It doesn’t need to be that full.” 

“No?” 

“No, dump like, half of that out.” 

He nods, pouring some out and depositing the rest over the stove. “I’m gonna be honest, I’ve never made pasta before.”

“Yeah, I could’ve guessed,” you quip, elbowing his side with the box of noodles in hand. “Pour these in?”

He takes the box and gives it a good shake. “How much?” 

“Maybe half? Little more?” 

He tips it over the water, snapping it back up when much more than half slides out. “Oops.” 

“It’s okay.” You chuck a few stray pieces from the counter into the pot. “Everyone’s getting seconds tonight. What do you like in your pasta?” 

“Sauce?” 

The laugh fizzles out in your throat as you realize he’s not making a joke. “Besides sauce. Cheese? Meat? Spices?” 

“Oh, uhh, I’m not sure.” Steve scratches the back of his neck, hand retracting to fidget with the hem of his shirt. He’s antsy, clearly nervous. Maybe embarrassed of his cooking knowledge, or rather, lack of it. Or perhaps afraid the pasta will end up something like the first set of grilled cheeses. 

“We’ll keep it simple then. Holly probably won’t like it too fancy anyway.” 

Steve nervously watches the water bubble, foam climbing up the sides. “Do you like garlic bread? Saw some in the freezer.” 

You fish the box out and line a pan with three pieces. And with bread in the oven and the pasta starting to boil, you hop on the counter to wait.  

“How long does it take?” Steve asks.

“Not long.” 

You open the drawer beside your legs and find a big wooden spoon. Lucky guess. “Here. Stir.” 

His eyes follow the ladle, stirring with steady hands. It’s a peaceful quiet, his focus unusually soft. Not the urgent, fate of his life kind of determination you’re used to seeing. 

When it’s ready, you pinch the spoon’s neck, fingertips sweeping his for the half a second before he lets go. “Now we strain the water. Then we can add the sauce.” 

You find a strainer and plant it in the sink while Steve carries the pot over and pours. He sets it back on the stove, per your orders, and offers a hand when you struggle with the sauce lid. 

He pins the jar against his chest, knuckles straining white in several attempts to twist the cap. But it pops off after a good shake, spraying sauce across your cheek, and spinning to the floor like a frisbee. 

Steve freezes, gawking at your face with a stupid smile. 

“Steve!” You scoop up a dish towel and smack his arm. 

He throws his hands up and turns a shoulder to you. “I didn’t mean to,” he snickers. 

“Don’t laugh! I’ll pour that whole jar over your head.” 

He doesn’t buy your threat one bit, still laughing as he sets the jar down and steals the towel from your hands. “I’ll get it. Sit still.” 

You summon the most menacing glare you can manage while suppressing a smile. He presses the towel to your cheek, thumb gliding across your skin as he wipes the sauce in one languid motion. His eyes flick down to your lips and you’re positive you aren’t imagining it. 

But you’re sweating and your stomach is churning and– “The pasta!” You ram into Steve’s shoulder trying to get by, rushing to turn the stove temperature down. 

Steve whisks up behind you to see the food. “Is it burnt?” 

“No, no. It should be fine.” You scrape the ladle under the bottom layer of noodles. “Pass me the sauce?”

You avoid his eyes as you take it. Was he going to kiss you? Maybe just thinking about it? Or perhaps there was just sauce near your mouth and you’re spiraling over absolutely nothing. 

You toss the food in sauce and divide it into three plates silently. 

“Holly! Food’s ready,” Steve shouts as he fixes the table with napkins and silverware. 

She clambers down the steps in a tutu and a cardigan that you’re pretty sure is Nancy’s. Her smile drops. “Where are your clothes?” 

Steve looks down at his sweats. “Holly, I think we’ll just–”

“Please, Stevie. It’s a dinner party, remember?” 

His eyes dart to you, though you still can’t bring yourself to look at him. “One sec.”

He swings back into the kitchen wearing a tweed suit jacket, a silky, black one draped over his arm. His is a few sizes too big, shoulder pads drooping down his biceps, and the sleeves swallowing his hands. He pushes the fabric up his elbows to hand you the other jacket. “For you.” 

“Thanks,” you deadpan. It comes off less sarcastic than you aim for. 

Holly and Steve adopt similar grins as you slip the jacket on. “You look dashing,” she compliments. 

“Very,” Steve agrees, taking a seat beside you. 

You spend the rest of dinner internally debating whether he’s flirting or just indulging in Holly’s playful antics. The uncertainty makes your stomach flip, and suddenly you aren’t so hungry anymore. 

After the dinner party concludes, it’s Holly’s suggestion to go for a walk. She wheels her bike out of the garage, fitted with a set of training wheels and a handlebar bursting with tinsel. A yawn rolls off her tongue as she launches down the driveway. It raises your hopes for a smoother bedtime tonight. 

Even as the horizon melts into the Earth, the summer heat clings like a heavy hand. Trees project long shadows along the road, eating what’s left of the sunlight. Bugs buzz and birds chirp, but a sleepy stillness is ubiquitous. 

“What?” you ask suddenly, whipping your head to face Steve. He’s drenched in gold, pale wisps of hair riding the breeze as he strolls. 

“I didn’t say anything.” 

“You’re staring at me. I feel it.” 

“I wasn’t,” he assures. 

You blink at him. You can’t decide whether to be annoyed at such an obvious lie or embarrassed by the truth. 

He jogs ahead before you’ve come up with something to say. Halfway to Holly, he shouts, “Come on, slowpoke!” 

It only takes one loop around the block for the heat to catch up. Holly complains incessantly about her helmet strap being too tight even after Steve fixes it and you’re itchy from sweat and mosquito bites. Steve’s, well, he might be the only content one. Happy even, guiding you home with a subtle bend to his lips and a soft glow tinting his cheeks. 

Holly whines about having to take a bath, and while you might negotiate it another night, you can see the damp line down her back. But like you suspect, all grievances are forgotten the second she gets in. She likes playing in the bath, even if she forgets it. It’s where she keeps her mermaid Barbie and her collection of rubber ducks, coincidentally all named Bob. 

And while bath time might tend to feel like more of a chore as a babysitter, tonight is different. It’s your last night at the Wheelers, and while that’s not new information, it is startlingly sad. You aren’t irritated when she splashes water in your eye or when she leaves a trail of it down the hall for you to clean. You can’t be, not when you know you’ll miss it. 

Steve helps you tuck Holly into Nancy’s bed. After pinky swearing that you’ll both return at your own bedtime, she drifts off easily. You’re thankful, of course, but a piece of you secretly hoped to be needed longer.  

“Must’ve been tired,” Steve whispers, pushing slowly off the bed. “You okay?” 

You nod, tearing your eyes from Holly to meet Steve’s. “Kinda sad.” You shrug, murmuring, “Stupid.” 

“It’s not.” He cups your shoulder and runs a warm hand up and down your arm. “Come on.” 

You take his hand and let him lead you across the hall and down the stairs. He pulls you onto the couch so you land pressed into the same cushion he’s on. “Y’know, babysitting Holly’s a breeze compared to the usual shitheads. We don’t have to worry about her taking my car keys or fighting interdimensional monsters or summoning a gate to hell,” he says. 

A soft laugh parts your lips. “Think Holly will put in a good word for us with her parents?” 

“You kidding? She loves us. Especially me,” he jokes. “Hate to break it to you but I’m definitely her favorite.” 

“No, you are not. Shut up.” 

He catches your fist mid-punch, cradling your hand like it’s made of wet sand. His thumb crosses each divot between your fingers, stroking up and down your knuckle slowly. “I’m sure they’ll ask us to babysit her again at some point.”

You hum in agreement. 

“Besides, we could expand our horizons. There’s like a million other children in Hawkins that need babysitting.” 

Your smile spills into your cheeks. “We?” 

“Yeah, I think we make a pretty damn good team. Don’t you?” 

“I do, but… we don’t have to limit our interactions to just babysitting, you know?” 

“What are you thinking? Dinner and a movie? Next weekend?” His eyes flick from your fingers to your face– to each eye, sweeping down the center of your nose, stopping right at your lips. 

You turn away in an attempt to soothe your heart as it pounds up to your ears. “Smooth, Harrington.” 

He reels you back in gently by the arm, confidence shining through his smile.“What? Did I read this wrong?” He knows he didn’t, he’s teasing you. 

“No,” you mumble, “You didn’t.” 

He leans in to whisper, “Can I kiss you then?” 

You nod, pushing into the soft press of his lips with your own. He’s not hesitant, nor is he harsh. Steve knows how to kiss, that much is clear. He trades your hand for your cheek, gently tilting your face to the side as he pulls away. 

Your eyes flutter open to a doting gaze. One that travels down the lines and slopes of your neck like they’re made of candy. Steve plants a second kiss on your lips, though fleeting in comparison to the first. But he plants several more to make up for it, working his way in a Z down your cheek, across your jaw, and back down your neck. They’re quick, ticklish little pecks of affection. A sweetness if you ever knew it. 

“Steve,” you admonish, though giggles betray your tone. The hands that frame his face glide gently down to his throat, your thumbs meeting at his Adam's apple. “We’re babysitting.” 

“I know,” he says, kissing your lips for a third time. “Just had to get a few extra in there. For all the times I thought about kissing you this weekend.” 

“Don’t say that.”

“Why?” He laughs, bubbly like you’ve surprised him. “It’s true. I thought about it all weekend.” 

You don’t know why you ask– why you even thought of it at a time like this– but you question him, “What about Nance?” 

“What about her?” 

“You don’t…” you trail off, afraid to even speak the possibility into existence. 

“We’re done. We have been. For a lot longer than I was willing to admit,” he admits honestly. 

“Yeah, but do you–”

“I don’t. Still have feelings for her. Not like that, anyway.” 

You meet his eyes, feeling a strange blend of emotions you can’t quite name.

“If you don’t believe me, you’ll just have to let me prove it to you,” he holds your gaze, warm with a sincerity that makes it hard to doubt him. 

“I believe you.” 

You let Steve kiss you several more times on that couch. He’s patient, deliberate, and more kind than you ever imagined he’d be. It’s hard to understand why Nancy would ever let someone like that go. 

ᯓ★

On Monday morning, you blink awake first, the comforting weight of a hand that’s not yours across your hip and another, much lighter one, at your belly. You turn over slowly, finding Steve and Holly wrapped around each other like ivy on trellis. You don’t imagine many people look this pretty asleep. The comb of long lashes kissing the soft flush in his cheeks. The golden lather of sunrise in each wild swoop of hair. The way his lips part for a sigh cuter than you knew one could be. 

He mumbles something unintelligible, sleep talk perhaps. 

You whisper back anyway, “What?” 

Steve sighs, smearing his cheek against the pillow. “Being a creeper.” 

“Me?” 

“Mhmm.” One eye slowly unbinds itself from sleep. Steve adores the tight-lipped smile on your face, broad with an infatuation he forgot could be aimed at him. His hand twitches at your side. 

“You just look so pretty when you sleep,” you admit. Is it too soon to say such things? 

His eye closes as he smiles, nosing into Holly’s hair, selfishly keeping it to himself. You reach across her body to find it, swiping a loving finger across his lips when you do. 

You stay in bed for as long as Holly will allow– which is not very long after she wakes up– but you don’t mind. You watch fondly as Steve helps her brush her teeth and as she helps Steve toast and butter the Eggos. Like Steve, Holly’s a good kid. They’re both helpers at heart. 

And you’re sure to remind Mrs. Wheeler of that when she rings the house to let you know they’re almost home. Holly’s excitement quickly dwindles into sadness the moment she realizes you won’t be staying. But she uses it to bargain one final game of hide and seek before you go. 

“Come on.” Steve drags you by the wrist, bustling upstairs to the bathroom. He throws the shower curtain aside and jumps in, offering his hand to help you after. You sit scrunched together, knee to knee on the porcelain floor, giggling like children. 

“Shhh,” you squeeze his kneecap. “You’re gonna get us found.” 

He jostles your shoulder, mouth agape. “You’re the one who’s laughing!” 

“No,” you insist, though the light in your eyes suggests otherwise. Curiosity sparks and the irrepressible urge to act on it wins. You lean in for a kiss, confirming that’s all it takes to shut Steve up. 

He tastes like maple syrup, loving with his lips as much as his hands. He pulls back for breath and returns for another peck, pressing into the corner of your mouth where your smile keeps drawing higher and higher. 

“Hard to kiss you when you're smiling.” 

“Can’t help it,” you defend. “Never been so happy.” 

He softens like warm icing, a sweet and gooey mess in your arms. But the shake of the front door closing stiffens him. 

“Mommy!” you hear quickly after. 

Steve scrambles up and over the lip of the tub, tugging you out with him. You follow him downstairs where Mrs. Wheeler swings Holly in her arms like she’s much smaller than she really is. Mr. Wheeler steers a suitcase silently through the entryway. 

“Did you have so much fun?” she asks Holly, peppering kisses across her temple. “Ohh, I missed you!” 

Holly revels in the affection overload, bending backward to giggle at you and Steve. 

Mrs. Wheeler grins. “How was she?” 

“Great, as always,” Steve assures. His cheeks are flushed, his hair mussed— though you could chalk that up to bedhead, not the aftermath of your short-lived makeout session.

You nod, adding, “We went swimming and to the park and–”

“IHOP!” Holly yells. “I got pancakes with chocolate chips and extra sprinkles!” 

“Did you? Sounds like you had a lot of fun.” Mrs. Wheeler plants Holly on her feet. “Can you give hugs? Say thank you for being such good babysitters?” 

Holly launches herself at Steve. He sends you a smirk over her shoulder, rocking her side to side in his embrace. You can just hear him say, I told you so. 

But she offers the same enthusiasm and more for you, dragging you onto the floor for a proper goodbye hug. “I don’t want you to go,” she pouts in your ear. 

“We’ll come back. We can have playdates?” 

“Can’t you just live in Nancy’s room? She’s never here anyway.” 

You can’t help but laugh. “I wish I could,” you admit honestly. 

She reluctantly loosens her grip on your shirt when you peel away. 

Mrs. Wheeler sees you and Steve off with a warm smile. Holly darts through her mother’s legs for one final hug on the porch. You wave goodbye, the moment slipping into something bittersweet before Steve bumps his shoulder into yours, a playful grin softening the farewell.

You dawdle up to your car, wringing your hands together when you reach the door. “So.”

“So,” he parrots. 

“This weekend, right?” 

His smirk blooms into a full smile. “Friday? Pick you up at seven?” 

“Okay,” you nod. 

“Okay,” he chuckles, clipping a hand around your jaw and leaning in. 

You turn away so the kiss skips across the softest stretch of your cheek. “Steve.” 

His eyes never leave your face as he assures you, “They’re not looking.” 

“Don’t be so sure.” 

Holly waves at you through the living room window, a smile as wide as her face. Steve’s hand falls down to his side and he takes a platonic step back. You both return her goodbye, but Holly stays, her little hand pressed to the glass. 

“Think she’ll tell?” Steve asks, not an ounce of worry in his tone. 

You shrug, tugging him back in by the waist for a proper kiss. “I guess it wouldn't be the end of the world.” 

[loveshotzz]

Nice to each other

steve harrington x fem!reader friends to lovers

Here we are, back again, fighting what’s in front of me.

summary: Despite being best friends for the past four years, you and Steve have never truly spent a Halloween together. Always at separate parties, separate dates. This year though, the two of you decide to keep it quiet both of you tired of the humiliation ritual that is dating.

The plans were simple: horror movies and pass out candy.

You’d be more excited if it wasn’t for the kiss the two of you shared drunk on a dare at Eddie Munson’s bonfire a week ago. A kiss the two of you have refused to talk about at all costs, A kiss you can’t seem to quit thinking about no matter how hard you try.

WC: 14k

warnings: 18+// Steve & reader are in their early to mid 20’s, stubborn idiots in love, classic we don’t want to ruin the friendship yearning, drinking, mentions of smoking, kissing, literally non stop tension, slight dry humping if you squint.

author’s note: This fic is inspired by Emily Henry’s People We Meet On Vacation, except for it’s in Hawkins with Steve, and revolves around their Halloweens over the years told between flash backs and current time. I had a lot of fun writing this, I hope you have just as much fun reading it.

Halloween - now.

“Sour candy or chocolate?” Steve asks deep in thought, he’s standing in the brightly lit Halloween aisle of the local Piggly Wiggly with two different ‘Family Size’ bags of each in his equally big hands. 

His eyebrows are pinched in the center of his forehead, marrying just below the swoop of hair that always fails to stay tucked behind his ear as he scans the shelves for a third, possibly better option with his full bottom lip tugged between perfect teeth. 

This was peak Steve Harrington concentration. 

“Sour candy, obviously.” You scoff, grabbing the neon Warheads bag out of his grasp, dumping it into the small cart that’s already full enough to make you regret not getting the large one Steve had suggested at the door. 

It’s fine, you were supposed to be practicing self control tonight anyway, plus you would never tell him that he was right about something. Not unless you wanted to hear about it for the next week.

Self control is a new concept when it comes to Steve, but you are good at trying to practice it, refusing to meet his eyes as you brush past him, and again when you ignore the glimmer of electricity that’s sparked between the two of you since your friendship’s conception. It’s a lot harder to pretend now though, because touching him feels like sticking a wet hand to a power grid these days, all because of a childish dare to prove Eddie Munson wrong. A plan that backfired in your face pretty quickly after drunkenly locking lips with your best friend at the metal head’s bonfire last week, because neither one of you can back down from a challenge. 

Or admit the truth. 

Your friendship with Steve has always been a series of ‘what if’s’. An unspoken tension that everyone in the room could feel when the two of you were in it, but honestly Steve had chemistry with everyone. He was just one of those guys, and your bond only intensified it, at least that’s what you’ve told yourself over the years. Kissing him though? That was always the kind of ‘what if’ you’d only ever dared to think about in the dead of night - alone, in your room, before shoving it back deep down into the dark crevices of your mind. It always happened after a movie night that got a little too cozy under a shared blanket, wandering hands a little too daring in the dark, cinnamon and clove clinging to all the fabrics of your clothes.  

Only now, it was a reality. One that hasn’t stopped playing on a loop since. 

“I think we should get both.” Steve finally decides like it’s been something that’s kept him up at night, coming up behind you so close that his chest brushes against your back as he reaches around to dump the chocolate in the cart. His cologne tempts your senses like the devil trying to make a deal for your soul, and you wonder if holding your breath would be too dramatic.

”We’re going to have so much left over if we get both.” You argue with a smile twisting up the corners of your lips, but you make no effort to correct the situation. The uneven wheels squeak as you keep pushing the cart down the linoleum floors.

”Or we can be the best stop on the block, let these kids clean house.” He suggests as if he were a coach coming up with a play, pounding his fist into his open palm for the words ‘clean house’ before pushing the dark green sleeves of his Hawkins Community College sweater up his arms. A galaxy of freckles reveal themselves to you, clustering and spreading along his permanently sunkissed skin. They stand out even more under the fluorescents. 

“I know you like winning, but I feel like I have to remind you that this isn’t a competition Harrington.” Grinning, you finally meet his amused eyes.

”Just getting into the Halloween spirit, that’s all honey.” Steve winks, pushing the wild strand back, just for it to fall across his face not even a second later. He ignores your protest when he bumps you to the side with his hip to take over pushing the cart. “Now the real question is what are we watching tonight?”

“I was thinking something along the lines of Army of Darkness, or Nightmare on Elm Street. Neither are very scary, I know how you get.” You couldn’t help but throw the little dig in retaliation for taking the cart from you, a giggle slipping past your lips at the side eye you get in return.

”I just don’t like being scared? Is that such a crime? You can go watch whatever you want with Eddie like the little weirdos you are.” He does a good job at keeping a straight face as the two of you get in line behind a family of five, but you catch a peek of his smirk when he leans over to put the divider on the black belt. 

“Do I need to remind you that you invited yourself tonight? I should make you watch The Exorcist.” 

It’s the genuine disbelief that paints his features that gets a full bellied laugh out of you, a big smile pushing up your glossed lips, and you can’t help notice how his gaze falls to them for a split second. 

Self control.

”Sorry I want to spend my best friend’s favorite holiday with her, sue me.” Steve scoffs dramatically, setting the bags of candy on the moving belt first, the family ahead of you wrapping up.

“That’s not what I’m saying and you know it.” You roll your eyes, crossing your arms stubbornly, cheeks burning hot at the smirk he gives you.

”Listen, I don’t actually care about what we watch, what I care about is that you’re going to let those pumpkins we carved finally see the light of day.”  He pushes the now emptied cart ahead, leaning back against the wooden panel of the register, leaving just a few inches between you. An amused eyebrow arches at your annoyed groan in response.

”Steve, they are hideous.”

”Speak for yourself, I put my blood, sweat and tears into mine, he deserves his moment. He’s going outside.” He decides it with the kind of finality in his tone that you know means it’s going to be the first thing he does as soon as you get back. 

”No one is going to come to the apartment, it will look like serial killers live there.” 

“Or a couple of undiscovered artists. Who are also going to be the number one candy dealers on the block.”  He argues, completely unphased by your protesting.

“Steve!” You whine, despite the smirk that creeps up your lips, and it makes Steve’s face split in two. 

“Fine, but we’re watching whatever I want then.” You challenge, doing your best to ignore the flutter in your stomach when his foot brushes against yours and he keeps it there.

”Like within reason.” He succumbs with genuine concern, rubbing his palms nervously against his tight fitting light wash jeans at the thought of what you’re sure is the last movie Eddie made him sit through.

”I’m not a monster Harrington.” You wink, quietly thankful for the fact that the line starts to move, because like magnets you’d unconsciously migrated deeper between his spread legs. 

Seizing the moment, you put some space between you just in time for Delores, or as her name tag reads to greet you both, popping the bubble you’d unknowingly trapped yourself in with him and bringing you back to reality.

Self Control.

Halloween - Three Years Ago.

“I really can’t believe you’re choosing to go to Eddie’s Halloween party over Tina’s.” Steve yells over Eddie Money’s ‘Take Me Home Tonight’ from his bathroom.

”And I can’t believe you’re going on a date with Brenda, again.” You retort, recalling the last time he tried to date her six months ago, and how he had to disconnect his landline after he ended things.

Granted he was breaking up with her because the new foreign exchange student at the time was showing interest, and he’d rather have a semester of fun with her than spend the winter playing boyfriend with Brenda. So you definitely understood where she was coming from, in fact you constantly reminded Steve you were on her side every time he’d try and complain about the mess he made. Messes he always seemed to make.

You ignored the unreasonable pit of jealousy that formed in your gut then, just like you are now, cause in no universe are you going to allow yourself to have a crush on  your best friend. There was no way you were going to fall victim to the Harrington charm just like everyone else, you liked hanging out with him too much for that. It would be a cold day in hell if you ended up as one of Steve’s messes, because in an alternate reality where you gave in to the ‘what if’ and it didn’t work out, there’s no way you’d be able to go back to watching him do exactly what he’s doing right now. 

You wouldn’t be able to have movie nights where maybe you both sit a little too close, laughing until your sides hurt and snacking on whatever is in front of you. No more late drives to lovers lake, just so you can get a better view of the moon when it's full, and staying out till sunrise, stopping at Denny’s to share a grand slam on your way home. No more talks about the future and how much the uncertainty of it all scares you both. No more having someone you can be completely yourself around. Someone who won’t judge you for your faults, someone who shows up when no one else will. Neither one of you could lose that.

”Look, it’s been a few months. She seems over it, besides it’s not like it’s anything serious.” He tries to reason, finally stepping out of his bathroom to give you the first look at his costume. ”What do you think?”

You never thought Indiana Jones was hot, even when he made you watch all three movies in preparation for this, but Steve as Indiana Jones was another story entirely. 

His dark brown pants are tucked into black boots, fitting his waist perfectly with a chocolate colored belt wrapped around his hips only extenuating it more. The cream colored button up leaves little to the imagination since he only has the bottom two done, half hazardly tucked into the front of his pants. You notice the silver chain that you’d gotten him for Christmas last year hanging from his neck, the dog tag at the end of it getting lost in the thick thatch of hair on his chest and it leaves your body warm. He opts out of the fedora because according to him it would hide his “best asset” so that wild strand swoops across his forehead like it's on purpose.

Steve Harrington looked like a movie star. 

Brenda didn’t know what was coming for her, and you have to swallow that sour taste in your mouth for the second time tonight. 

“I’d say Stephen Spielberg needs to seriously consider recasting you as the lead instead of Harrison Ford.” You feed into his delusion, because that’s what best friends are for.

”Right? Right?” He spins around one more time, flashing that million dollar smile of his that devastates anyone he directs it at. You have to remind yourself of everything that you could lose again.

It’s Steve’s turn to take in your costume. Golden brown eyes sparkling with amusement and the kind of adoration that was hard to ignore. You’re a Venus fly trap from the Little Shop of Horrors, wrapped up in a dark green form fitting tube top dress that stops at the middle of your thighs with jagged cut ends you made yourself with a dull pair of kitchen scissors. The silk gloves that go up to your elbows are the same shade of emerald, along with the little paper mache fly trap heads that Robin helped you make sticking out of the top of your pinned up hair. Glitter covers every exposed inch of your chest, and shimmers in the corners of your eyes. You had felt confident enough to even reconsider going to Tina’s instead when you applied your red lipstick before leaving for Steve’s. His reaction only makes it soar. 

”What do you think?” You smile, taking your turn to spin. 

”Who are you trying to impress at this party again?” Steve quirks an eyebrow, a darkened gaze lingering over all the details of you, taking his time where a best friend shouldn’t and it makes you squirm.

”Jonathan’s friend that’s visiting from California. You know him, Argyle." 

He scoffs, waving a dismissive hand before moving past you to grab his cologne from the top of his dresser.

”Him? Why? He’s only here for like two more days anyway.” He challenges with his back turned, and you know it’s on purpose.

”Okay? And?” You snap, his hypocrisy quickly snuffing out the jealousy that seemed to get comfortable in your gut and turning it into anger. You prefer it. So you lean into it. “You’re the only one who get’s to fuck around with no strings attached?”

”He’s a stoner pizza delivery man, I don’t really know what you’d see in that. Don’t lower your standards just to hook up with someone because you look cute tonight.” 

Because you look cute tonight. 

It’s your turn to scoff.

“You’re being a complete ass, Harrington. Like working at a video store is any better. He’s nice, and makes me laugh. We already hung out the other night. Then guess what? He walked me home and kissed me at my front door. I don’t think I need to impress anybody.” Your nails dig into the soft flesh of your palms, hands balling into fists at your side. How dare he.

What makes you even more mad is that it feels like it’s Steve who’s jealous. Steve who’s getting ready to go on a date with someone else. Steve who didn’t ask you when you were always right here.

”Oh, so that’s why we didn’t hang out the other night, got it.” He raises his eyebrows, lips turning into a frown before nodding his head. 

“We hang out almost every other night Steve, I don’t say anything to you when you go out on dates, and you go out on a ton of them. I think you’ve dated almost every girl in my Liberal Arts Class. I’m not appreciating this double standard, or you questioning my judgment.” Your words carry the kind of venom that stings, and you can see it all over his face. The worst part was how you immediately feel bad, frustrated tears threatening to spill over the shimmer that covers your cheeks. 

Steve’s quiet for a moment, looking down at his feet, rubbing the back of his neck. He meets your eyes after a few seconds, soft and apologetic, traces of unmistakable regret in the dark pools of his irises.

”You’re right, I’m sorry.” He sighs, straightening up, shifting his belt buckle around. “I don’t know why I’m being so-, I just think, I just -“

He takes a moment to gather his thoughts and decide if he really wants to say what’s trying to escape from the tip of his tongue.

”I just don’t think anyone’s good enough for you.”

You let his words sink it. They make the anger that fueled you cool down to a low simmer so that jealous pit can come back to reclaim its rightful throne.

”Well I could say the same thing for you too.” You mutter, refusing to meet his gaze, you weren’t ready to yet.

The silence that fills the space between you is full of those what if’s and half truths. It stays there just long enough for you to finally look at him with the mask you’re used to wearing. 

”Apology accepted. The game plan then is for you to try and not to end up getting tied to Brenda’s bed, and I’ll try to make sure Eddie doesn’t burn his trailer to the ground.”

Steve stares at you for a while, like he knows the conversation needs to move on but he doesn’t want it too. Logic wins out no matter how forced it seems, because he follows your lead.

“He’ll need you, buddy needs to cool it with the lighter fluid. And for what it’s worth your costume looks amazing. You guys did great.” He smiles, but it doesn’t quite meet his eyes.

He spots the whip at the end of his bed, playfully flicking the head of one of the fly traps with his fingers as he walks past, and you have to stop yourself from inhaling the cedar and honey that invades your senses from his cologne. It’s not the one with cinnamon that you love, the one he only wears in the fall, the one that he wears for you. 

“Come on, I’ll drop you off on my way.”

Halloween - Now.

“So what’s the game plan chief?” Steve grins, leaning over your kitchen island, long fingers digging through the freshly filled candy bowl for a pack of Swedish fish.

”There’s no game plan, we hang out, kids walk up, they ring the door bell, then we give them candy and they walk away.” You swat his hand from the treats, but let him keep the gummy candy he searched so hard for. “No good supplier eats his stash Harrington, and I can’t believe I just had to explain the concept of trick or treating to you.”

You don’t tell him about the pile you already set aside to share later.

“What? I’m rusty! And, you gotta test the quality of the product honey, I’m a professional, I know what I’m doing.” He argues with his mouth full.

”Eww keep your mouth closed please and you can’t be rusty and a professional at the same time.”

He sticks his tongue out in response with a whole mini bag of half devoured Swedish fish on it.

”I hate you.”

”No you don’t.” He smirks, chewing the rest before pushing himself up right with a big gulp, letting you admire the cozy attire he changed into after you got back from the store. 

You don’t think you’ve ever seen someone make grey sweatpants and a black crew neck sweater look so good. A sweater he made sure to tell you he wore just for you today, the only black top he owns. 

“I’m still mad you didn’t get me any Halloween socks.” Steve points to the fuzzy black ones with jack o lanterns on your feet.

You’d opted for a pair of leggings and an oversized sweater, Steve’s oversized sweater actually, he’d left at your place almost a year ago and never bothered to reclaim it. The dark burnt orange color of it reminded you of fall, and for a while it smelt like him too. You’d never admit that last part to anyone, or that you were excited at the prospect of getting that smell back after tonight.

”You could have easily grabbed a pair at the store earlier, it’s not my fault you don’t know how to be festive.” 

The roll of your eyes is hard, but the smile that twists at the corner of your lips is soft for him as you grab the bowls of candy, silently indicating for him to follow you to the living room.

”I’d like to think I’m pretty festive.” He scoffs, tube sock covered feet padding loudly against the old wood floors of your apartment. “This is the first year I’m not dressing up, actually.”

”Because you don’t have a girl you can do a couples costume with this year.” You retort, setting the candy down on the coffee table before lazily flinging yourself onto the blanket and pillow covered couch. 

“One, I could have very easily gotten a date for Tina’s party tonight, let's not pretend that you and I don’t both know that. And two, that’s not true either, the year before last I didn’t have a date, I went with Robin as Mario and Luigi. You were the one that had a date that year, it was that douche bag Ryan from your English Lit class.” He snorts at the memory and the boy you’d almost forgotten about, but clearly your best friend hadn’t. 

Dropping into the spot he always takes next to you, Steve lets himself melt into the familiar cushions. His knee bumps yours when he spreads his legs wide with an appreciative groan before leaning his head back against the headrest closing his eyes. 

“Ryan was not a douche bag.” He was.

Steve opens one eye, a lopsided grin pulling up on your favorite cheek dotted with two moles. 

“Yes, he was and you know it. He wrote you one poem and you were smitten, one shitty poem. I could’ve written you a better one.”

”Then why didn’t you.” 

Steve’s eyes shine, but he doesn’t answer you, instead the two of you just sit there in silence smiling at each other in a silent dare that's always there. His knee presses into yours harder, and the butterflies that’d you’d done a good job at keeping dormant flutter back to life. Then you see his gaze flick down to your lips again.

Self control.

”L-lets start the movie.” You stutter, unable to tell if you yelled the words or if it really was just that quiet. 

Leaning over, you grab the remote off the coffee table with a kind of quickness that would make you think there was a gun pointed to your head. Steve’s continued silence doesn’t help anything either, he just drapes both arms across the back of the couch, wiggling himself deeper into his spot. The movement has your teeth digging into your bottom lip as you press play, starting the VHS. You had finally settled on Nightmare on Elm street on the car ride back.

It’s second nature to lean over Steve to turn off the lamp, although after last week it feels taboo but it’s too late to stop by the time the realization dawns on you. The light disappears with a loud click leaving just the small one over the stove in the kitchen as your only source besides the TV and the porch light that bleeds through your blinds from outside.

Electricity sparks and fizzes in the air around you the moment the room succumbs to darkness, and your chest accidentally brushes with his as you plop back into your seat. Steve sucks in a sharp intake of breath from the unexpected contact, but still he doesn’t hesitate to scoop you up like he always does, long fingers wrapping around your knees to drape your legs over the top of his thighs. 

Tucked under his arm like this, it’s easy to inhale him, bask in him and the warm cinnamon that mixes into his usual amber in the fall. He’s wearing your favorite. You nuzzle your cheek into his chest becoming greedy, the cozy scent calming your nerves, you get lost in it, and if he notices he doesn’t show it. He squeezes you closer, the top of his chin finding a new home on the crown of your head, while the pad of his thumb rubs circles on the sore muscle of your calf with pointed pressure.

Secretly, you always knew this moment, the one right here, was the cheat code every time you had ‘movie nights’ just the two of you. The excuse to let yourselves have this one thing. A silent agreement to never ruin the friendship by giving in just enough to keep the temptation at bay. An equal craving for the kind of affection that only feels good with someone you love, but as the years go by, the bolder both your touches get under the cloak of a dark room and a blanket, you wonder if it’s more than that. If there’s a world where he thinks about risking it all too.

Halloween - Two Years Ago.

You weren’t supposed to end up at Tina’s Halloween Party, but Ryan wanted to make an appearance after the two of you left Reefer Rick’s. He’d offered to be the DD, but three group shots of pickle bombs into it, you and everyone could tell he wasn’t having a good time. So since your apartment was walking distance from Tina’s, it made sense to end the night there or at least that’s how he explained it when he told you he wanted to leave. 

The usual anxiety that tightens in your chest returns at the thought of seeing your best friend, somersaults in your stomach you refuse to call butterflies. In fact, you’ve done a good job at convincing yourself this is totally normal, because you can’t remember a time where it didn’t feel like this to see him.

Robin would be there too thankfully, because the two of them had entered Tina’s annual costume contest as Mario and Luigi. Costumes you watched them both make all week, sprawled out across Robin’s bedroom floor, pricking fingers till they bled trying to sew. The worst part about it though, was how cute Steve made the oversized mustache look. Some people really do have it all.

Ryan keeps you close to his side when the two of you enter the packed house dressed as Frankenstein and his bride. Monster Mash blares from the speakers so loud you wonder how much time you have left before Hopper comes knocking on the door to shut it down. You scan the crowd for the familiar red and green in a sea of witches, mermaids, and Top Gun characters, finding the two of them in the corner closest to the kitchen. Closest to the booze.

You can’t fight the way your face lights up when Steve’s gaze meets yours through the crowd, his own smile growing so big that half his mustache falls off. Suddenly coming to Tina’s was the best idea Ryan’s ever had. You tug at his arm, leading him towards the two Mario brothers that wave eagerly at you.

”Oh, great. Steve’s here.” Ryan mutters, sounding less than thrilled but you choose to ignore it, and the very obvious tension between the two men that’s existed since they met.

”Finally you come to the superior party!” Robin exclaims hugging you tight, before giving Ryan an awkward side one.

”She’s aliiiiive!” Steve who is clearly feeling very good yells over the music, before scooping you up in his arms. 

He gives you the kind of hug that’s usually reserved for the long goodbye after a self indulgent movie night. The kind that has his big palms splayed across your back, pulling you flush against him, the thin material of your ripped white dress and his ramshackled overalls leaves little to the imagination. His lips find their way to the shell of your ear, tequila and lime warm on his breath, pebbling goosebumps along the back of your neck. He’s wearing your favorite cologne.

”You look beautiful, honey.”

He lets you go with that, and you catch the smug way he looks at Ryan over the top of your head. The smile on Robin’s face is awkward as you meet her gaze with a silent plea for help, you don’t know what exactly you want her to do, but your body is on fire and someone needs to put it out. You stare a little longer as if to communicate this delima to her telepathically even though you would never admit it to her with your words, only giving up on your dead end mission when you feel Ryan tug you back to his side by your hip.

”She does, doesn’t she.” Ryan agrees, fingers threatening to dig bruises in your side unknowingly. Steve always did this to him, but tonight the alcohol intensified it.

“Seriously, literally always so stunning.” Robin agrees on your beauty nervously, giving you an apologetic look that she couldn’t think of anything better.

”Let’s get some shots!” You try with mock excitement in a desperate attempt to remind Ryan why you came here and that it’s not to punch Steve’s teeth in with a squeeze of his hand. It’s a fruitless effort to try and ignore the growing heat that warms under your cheeks and churns deep in your gut where your body always seems to betray you.

”Great idea!” Robin exclaims doing her best to copy your tone, it seems to be enough to shake the boys out of their silent dick swinging contest.

”Tequila or rum?” You ask your date, laying a hand on his chest doing your best to ignore the heat of Steve’s stare on the back of your head.

“Tequila.” He answers, placing his palm on the top of your hand, bending down, his eyes flick towards your best friend before kissing you. Marking his territory.

You’d think it was hot if your body had any kind of reaction to him, but it’s still practically humming for the one behind you and you hate yourself for it.

”I’ll be right back.” You wink, giving Ryan’s fingers a squeeze before slipping through the crowd towards the kitchen without looking back. 

It’s quieter in the yellow light of Tina’s kitchen, the music a low thump instead of overpowering all your senses at once. A shaky breath slips past your black painted lips, while uneasy hands half hazardly read the labels on the cheap bottles of liquor. The bold letters that spell Tequila finally catch your eye on the most generic looking bottle. You grimace at the thought of the hang over that seals your fate tomorrow, but then you remember the way the lime smelt on Steve’s breath.

“You look beautiful honey.”

Fuck it. You take one straight from the bottle for good measure. No salt, no lime, just regret. 

“Your boyfriend’s a little insecure isn’t he?”

As if thinking about him makes him appear, Steve walks through the kitchen pointing a thumb over his shoulder towards the direction Ryan’s in.

“He’s not my boyfriend yet, and he won’t be because you keep egging him on,  Harrington.” You sigh exasperated, ignoring the way he chuckles not taking you seriously at all before turning around to face him, your palms finding purchase on the kitchen counter behind you. 

“Maybe, just a little.” He pinches his thumb and index finger together with a devious smirk that looks even more absurd in his costume. At least his oversized mustache must’ve been left with Robin. “I just don’t like him is all.” 

“You don’t like anyone I’m interested in, Steve.”

You want to ask him why. The alcohol almost starts to make you brave enough to do it too. Why does he do this every time it’s your turn to date around? Why does he always have a list of issues on how they simply aren’t good enough? Why is it always a competition? Sometimes you wonder if it’d just be easier to hear him say it out loud instead of doing whatever this is. 

“Well, that may be true, but you also have terrible taste.” He closes the space between you, mimicking your stance on the kitchen island across from where you face him. The tips of your shoes are close enough to touch. 

“Who would you like me to date then?”  Your question is supposed to sound snarky and mean, not quiet with weight wrapped around it like it does

The look in his glossy eyes steals the air from your lungs, like he’s daring you to say it. 

You both know you won’t and he changes the subject.

“I can’t believe I caught you doing a tequila shot without salt and lime. Especially that tequila.” He tsks, pushing himself off the counter and invades what little is left of the  space between you. You can smell the cinnamon again.

“Well I needed a quick stress reliever, no thanks to you.” You should be embarrassed by how breathy it comes out, but when he holds your gaze like this, like he wants to eat you alive, it’s hard to care. 

It's just the liquor you tell yourself, Steve’s been drinking all night. 

He mutters a ‘hmm’ under his breath, long fingers wrapping just tight enough around your wrist that you could pull away if you wanted too. You don’t though, instead you bite your bottom lip, too selfishly invested in what he might do next.

Steve reaches behind you, grabbing the salt shaker that dwarfs in his grasp, lifting your hand up to your mouth. 

“Lick.” He smirks devilishly, and you realize you’re getting the full force of his charm. 

“Steve.” You whisper, just barely audible over your heart thrumming out of your chest. You can feel it in your ears.

Thump, thump, thump, thump

“We’re gonna do a shot together, the right way.” He reasons like this is a completely normal interaction between two friends while the gold shimmering in his eyes darkens. 

You don’t say anything, searching his face for any sign of this being some kind of prank just to see how you’d react. But the way he licks his lips tells you pretty quickly that it’s not. 

So you do it. Holding his eyes the whole time, and you swear they turn onyx. 

It’s his turn to stay silent, breathing heavily through his nose as he taps the shaker over the corner of your hand before doing the same to his own, and now it’s your turn to stare as his pink tongue licks a perfect straight line. All the stories you’ve heard about him flood to the forefront of your mind, the endless pillow talk about Steve Harrington that fills the college halls. 

You hate that the motion has your thighs pressing together, especially with Ryan just outside waiting for your return, but you can’t bring yourself to care enough to leave. Your eyes trace the veins in his neck, silently counting the freckles that explode across his skin as he pours up two shots. 

“Here honey.” He whispers, like he’s scared for this bubble to pop too. 

The two of you cheers, glass clinking loudly in the silence, eyes staying trained on each other like you need to memorize every detail of this moment. Like this was never going to happen again. 

The tequila doesn’t taste as bad followed up with the salt and the lime. Steve does it like a pro, like a boy who’s been to every party this small town has to offer. He doesn’t even take that ‘this is disgusting’ suck of breath through his teeth, he just smiles at you setting the shot glass down. 

“Hey, is everything okay? Do you need help? Oh.”

It’s only fitting that it’s Ryan who pops your carefully crafted bubble, and you know it will be another fight about Steve on the walk home. Another night to get buried with all the others just like this, and a night that has you and Steve avoid being alone together for a week.

Halloween - Now.

It’s hard to concentrate on Freddy terrorizing a young Johnny Depp when the tips of Steve’s fingers move from your calf to the top of your thigh, a motion he’s repeated for half the movie. A move that gets bolder, higher, pushing the boundaries with every swipe. He has to feel the way it makes you squirm, in fact, you think it’s spurring him on. Especially when he gets dangerously close to the soft outline of your underwear, a quiet gasp escaping past your lips.

Luckily, you're saved by the sound of your doorbell, the first trick or treaters of the night making you both jump.

“Finally!” Steve exclaims like he wasn’t just actively tempting you to cross the line for the second time this week, like he didn’t already know what your tongue tasted like. 

The bonfire comes back in flashes, teeth scraping, nipping, the whistles that got drowned out when his hand came up to your cheek opening you up more when it was just supposed to be a peck.

”Hello? Are we just going to keep them waiting?” He snaps you back to reality, standing over you with his hands out for you to take. “I don’t really want to beat you at your own game.”

”Again Steve, this is not a sport, you can’t win at something when there’s no prize.” You groan, refusing to meet eyes but slide your hands into his. 

“Sure you can.” He winks, letting you go the moment you get on your feet, extending his arm for you to lead the way. 

His playful demeanor has you feeling like maybe you just imagined the last thirty minutes. Was he not affected the way you were? Has it always just been you? Did the kiss not make him question everything?

”Whatever you say Harrington.” Sighing, you try for the hundredth time this week to push the thoughts of your bottom lip between his teeth down where they can’t see the light of day.

So distracted by the man behind you, the lack of candy in your hands has you stopping dead in your tracks without thinking, the domino effect slams his hard chest right into your back.

”Foul ball.” Steve huffs, steadying you both with hands on your hips. The warmth of them bleeding through the thick fabric of your sweater. “I thought you said this wasn’t a game.”

What you hated most about Steve Harrington was that he always knew how to make you laugh even when you didn’t want to.

”Well if this were a game, we’d be losing.”

Genuine panic paints his features like a truly serious offense has occurred. 

“We forgot the candy.”

He groans, running a hand through his hair that you wish was your own. 

”Wow, total rookie mistake, we gotta get it together or we’re gonna get benched.” Clapping loudly he turns on his heel to grab both bowls, “I do not wanna get on the coach's bad side.”

”You don’t have to bring both.” You try your hardest to fight the smile that wants to twist up the corners of your lips. “And who’s the coach?”

”We’re not going to be under prepared this time sweetheart, and I need to see who picked the better candy, if they’re even still there!” Steve tutts with a shake of his head gliding past you. “And you’re the coach, duh.”

”Why do you always like to participate in competitions you know you’re going to lose?” Crossing your arms, you light up at his narrowed gaze, his long fingers wrapped around the door handle, “I mean, we might as well take a poll of the ugly pumpkins you made us put out too while we’re at it.

“Sounds like a great idea.” He grins smugly, “I love how much you lean into intimidation tactics when you know you won’t win by the way.” He doesn’t give you any time to respond, swinging the door open with the kind of excitement that would rival a kid on Christmas morning.

Then you watch it drain from his face almost instantly, quickly replaced by pure annoyance. 

“What’s going on? What are you doing here?” Steve, stacks one of the candy bowls on top of the other, leaning on your door with a hand on his hip.

”What does it look like we’re doing?” You hear Mike Wheeler’s voice before you see him, but when you meet Steve at the door, you realize it’s all four of his ‘children’ and you can’t stop the laugh that bubbles past your lips because they’re all dressed as The Cone Heads. 

“It looks like legal adults going to strangers' houses asking for candy, instead of being at a party, meeting girls. Will you’re excluded in that last part, obviously.” Your best friend runs another irritated hand through his hair.

“I’m not sure they’ll be able to chase tail dressed as Beldar Conehead, Steve.” You can’t stop giggling. “Just give them some candy.”

”Yeah, listen to your girlfriend, Harrington.” Dustin antagonizes, shaking his empty pillow case in front of him. “Give us the sour candies and we’ll get out of your hair.”

”One, she’s not my girlfriend, dip shit, and two, what's wrong with Snickers?” 

“Sour candy’s just better.” Lucas shrugs, “Now hand over the Warheads.”

She’s not my girlfriend.

It feels like an expected punch in the gut. The final nail in the coffin your last shred of hope lays in. You should have known better, but the kiss made everything fuzzy, the self control you prided yourself on waning in a way that you weren’t sure you could ever get back. 

“You guys can have as much as you want.” You say ignoring Steve, snatching the bowls from his hand. 

“Seriously? They can buy their own!” He groans, leaning his back on the door crossing his arms over his chest.

“She’s not your girlfriend, huh? You seemed pretty whipped to me,” Mike laughs knowing just how much this is getting under Steve’s skin.

You know it’s supposed to be somewhat of a compliment but it just adds salt to a wound that won’t stay closed.

”Shut up, that’s enough,” Steve smacks the back of Mike’s head hard enough to get an ‘Ouch! Asshole!’, the cone on top wobbling. “Get out of here and go to a god damn party.”

The boys take half the bowl of Warheads, walking away arguing about who can put the most in their mouth without spitting them out. They only took a few pieces of Steve’s chocolate, leaving you the clear winner this round, something you’d be more excited about rubbing in his face if you weren’t trying to actively avoid it. The taste of disappointment is bitter on your tongue, but you do your best to swallow it down. A hard lesson learned, but one your heart can’t bear to repeat again. All you know is that you can’t go back to being best friends with wandering hands in the dark.    

Self control. 

The Bon Fire - Last Week

Eddie Munson’s filter always disappeared when he was drunk, it was part of the fun of drinking with him. Except for when his unfiltered thoughts were about you.

”Oh give me a fucking break!” Eddie yells at you from across the flames that lick the night sky violently. The excessive amount of lighter fluid he’s sprayed into them should be illegal. A half smoked cigarette dangles from the side of his mouth, dangerously close to falling out as he finishes.

“The only reason you and Steve are still single is because the two of you refuse to acknowledge the fact that you’re clearly in love with each other!”

”Fuck. Off. Munson.” Steve glowers from the lawn chair next to you, taking a swig from his 5th beer of the night.

”What? ‘Fuck off’ because I got your ass?” Eddie adjusts in his seat, saving his cigarette, fully prepared for this debate like he’s been waiting for it all his life.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You argue weakly, following Steve’s lead and taking another “sip” of your empty beer.

The metal head guffaws.

“Please, I’ve been watching the two of you for the past four years. Steve scares off any guy you try to date and you let him, which makes me believe you feel the same way, and Steve only dates girls he knows he’ll never have a connection with!” Eddie claps his hands every few words to really drive his point home, and it leaves your argument a jumbled mess on the tip of your tongue.

The vicious cycle of you and Steve Harrington. 

”One, she dates horrible guys -“ Steve starts but immediately gets cut off by Eddie’s sarcastic “Sure!” And your “Hey!”

“Are you going to let me finish?” Your best friend narrows his eyes, polishing off his beer with an apologetic glance flashed briefly in your direction.

”You can if you want, but it’s not going to change my mind or anyone else’s at this party.” Eddie eggs him on more, taking a deep inhale of his cigarette and blowing the smoke out of his nose like a bull. Taunting you both.

You look around the fire for help foolishly thinking your friends were going to be on your side only to realize literally everyone is avoiding your gaze, even Robin.

”Robin!” The gasp that escapes you shouldn’t sound so surprised. She spends the most time with both of you.

“What?! I’m not Eddie! Yell at him!” She exclaims defensively, but her eyes are still everywhere but yours.

”Then look at me.” You cross your arms, arching a brow with a tilt of your chin.

She mumbles something about killing Eddie under her breath, messing with the empty beer bottles next to her like she’s looking for something. She was procrastinating.

”Oh my god! Seriously?” 

Eddie chuckles victoriously and you swear you hear Nancy giggle from the spot next to Robin. Sinking into the hard plastic of your chair, you dare to sneak a glance at Steve who’s face is entirely unreadable. This was worse than your worst nightmare, this was reality. 

”Look,” Eddie starts again, leaning forward in his chair like some sort of evil mastermind from a bad action movie, “If it’s all in our heads like you keep saying it is. That she really does have terrible taste in men and that you’ve really just exhausted all your options in Hawkins. Kiss then.”

Robin gasps dramatically.

”Are you really doing this right now, Munson?” Steve glowers through gritted teeth before shooting Robin a look so harsh she covers her face.

”Why not? What’s it going to hurt? I’m sure you’ve both thought about it before.” He shrugs, a cheshire smile poking dimples into both his cheeks. “Unless you’re too scared to do it, which would then make me continue to believe everything I just said was true.”

God, Eddie Munson knew exactly what he was doing. He knew how to press Steve’s buttons. He knew exactly how dug in both your heels were, holding up that invisible line that’s saved you for the past four years. And you couldn’t figure out if you wanted to kill him, and dump his body into the lake or be eternally grateful for someone finally ripping this old bandaid off. You just didn’t know if there was going to be a scar underneath.

”And why’s that?” You chime in finally finding your voice, snarky and rude. You’ve decided to lean into the anger, and ignore the heat of Steve’s stare warming the side of your face.

“Guys, this is getting a little weird.” Robin tries to intervene, the rasp in her voice uneasy, holding both her arms out like both boys might jump through the fire at each other soon.

”I dare you both to prove me wrong, and then I’ll let it go.” He sits back in his chair, a cigarette put out by his combat boots, and folds his hands in front of him. ”Just a peck.”

”Eddie, come on-“ Robin starts but Steve cuts her off.

”No, no, no it’s fine Rob.” 

That’s when he does it, he turns to face you because Steve Harrington never backs down from a dare. Even if it means throwing a boulder at your glass house. Eddie was playing chess while Steve played checkers, and you start to believe all the drunken stories he told you about the campaigns he wrote for his DND club in high school. Your best friend will unfortunately always be an easy target.

“It’s fine, if this freak wants a little show to get off to later, we’re perfectly capable of a peck. My Mom gives out pecks like they’re candy! N-not like to me alone specifically,” He clears his throat awkwardly, “Like the rest of my family too.”

You grimace at the idea of Steve kissing you like his Mom and Eddie’s eyes sparkle.

”Okay,” Steve waves his hands, eyes closing tight in frustration, “This is coming out wrong! All I’m trying to say is, no big deal Munson, if it’ll get you to shut up, we’d love to prove you wrong, right?”

Wait, was Steve really agreeing to this? Were you really going to have your first kiss with him in front of all of your friends? A kiss you’ve shamefully thought about more than you should. Did he actually want to kiss you? Is he really doing this to shut Eddie up?

”Yeah, not a big deal. You’ll see, and then I’ll be expecting free weed for at least a month.” You try to over compensate with a brave face, but Eddie sees right through it.

”Sure.” He grins, utterly pleased with himself.

”Well what do I get?” Steve glares at his friend expectantly.

”You don’t get anything Harrington, shut up.” 

“Wow, doesn’t seem fair, but whatever.” He mumbles, before finally focusing on you, and you aren’t sure you’re ready.

It feels kismet the moment your eyes meet, the sounds of the party fading around you, leaving only the crackling fire and your heart beating so loud it rings in your ears, and thumps through the tips of all ten of your fingers. The bubble you’ve carefully made together, the one that’s kept you safe for this long comes out like a shield. The last defense.

Thump, thump, thump, thump.  

Steve licks his lips, eyes silently communicating with you to make sure this is really okay, that you guys were actually going to do this and all you can muster is a nod. He scoots his chair close enough for the sides of your hands to touch, amber and cinnamon wrapping around you like a spell.

”Just me and you okay?” He whispers loud enough for your ears only.

”Yeah,” you agree, hooking your pinky with his, “me and you.”

Steve smiles that smile he doesn’t give anyone else, and suddenly you don’t care about the answer to any of those questions swirling around loud in your brain. You want this. You want him. Even if it’s just for right now.

His nose brushes against yours, miller lite and mint hot on his breath. It makes your lashes flutter against the tops of your cheeks, your skin warming as if you were standing in front of the sun. It’s so gentle when his bottom lip connects with the top of yours, it almost tickles. He exhales a deep breath through his nose, mouth hovering for what feels like an eternity.

Thump, thump, tump, thump. 

When the soft silk of his lips finally meets yours, you swear the earth shakes, and after a few seconds when he pulls away with that dazed look on his face you wonder if he felt it too. He blinks a few times, slow and bewildered, something shifting behind his brown eyes that you can’t figure out. Steve doesn’t give you much time to try before his lips are on yours again, that big hand of his finding your cheek, tilting your willing chin up just enough to open you up. His tongue swipes against your bottom lip asking for more and you give it to him without question tasting him for the first time.

Steve Harrington was kissing you, really kissing you. 

“I hope those aren’t the kinda pecks your Mom’s handing out like candy, Harrington!” Eddie gloats loud enough to break through the haze, causing both of you to remember where you are.

Steve’s in no rush to pull away though, in fact, he takes his time, perfect teeth nipping gently at your bottom lip for good measure. He lingers like stopping this is the hardest thing he’s ever had to do. The tip of his nose runs along the length of yours, and for a second you think he might keep kissing you. His eyes are already fixated on yours when you meet his stare with fluttering lashes. He holds your gaze like he’s desperately trying to read your mind, the pad of his thumb swiping against your bottom lip not once but twice before finally letting you go. 

”You happy now, Munson?” Steve huffs flopping back into his chair with rose colored cheeks. He leans down to grab his beer, running a hand through his untamable hair before taking a swig like that didn’t just change everything.

Oh no.

“Literally couldn’t be happier, Harrington. I think I’m going to start charging double for my eighths now, actually.” Eddie grins winking at you, only for his face to soften meeting your unreadable expression. 

Frozen in your seat, your fingers press against your lips. You could still feel his teeth.

“What do you mean?” Steve interjects, refusing to look in your direction.

Oh no.

“What do you mean?” The metal head challenges, with a confused raise of his eyebrow. “There’s witnesses Harrington.” 

He waves his ringed finger in a circular motion reminding you both of the still very much ongoing party around you. It’s hard to feel the familiar ache of disappointment when your bones won’t stop buzzing. They don’t get it, they don’t realize they bore witness to the kind of moment that moved tectonic plates for you. The kind of moment that you know is going to change everything no matter how hard you try.

”We did your dare, she gets free weed.” Steve continues like it’s obvious.

“Yeah, no. You two were practically eating each other alive. I actually think people started to feel awkward, that’s how insane it was.” Eddie’s disbelief furrows his brows together, head cocking to the side. “So, clearly, I was right.”

At least he’s got the balls to say it. 

“When I win, I like to win big, okay?” Steve smirks with his kiss bitten lips, making the next thing he says sting even more. “You’d never let it go if it was just a peck.”

Oh no.

Your eyes meet Robin’s, and the expression on her face makes you wish you hadn’t. 

”Right?” It takes you a minute to realize Steve is talking to you, in fact it’s not until you feel a gentle tap on your shoulder from the hand that was just cupping your cheek. 

He’s asking you to agree that it meant nothing, that you both got Eddie, that you two are only everything you’ve ever said you were. Everyone stares at you, and for the second time tonight you wish this was a nightmare. You wonder if you should just pinch yourself to see.

”I’ll take my first free eighth tonight.” You finally manage, giving Eddie a weak smile.

Oh no.

Halloween - Now

Steve feels miles away on the other side of the couch, a conscious choice you made after his teenage children left, after he made it abundantly clear where he still stood with you. It’s a choice you’re going to dig your heels into no matter how much your body physically aches to be close to him, or how his knee hasn’t stopped bouncing almost three movies and a whole lot of trick or treaters later. 

The clear pink digital clock on your mantle reads 12:18 AM in bright red numbers, A Nightmare on Elm Street: Dream Warriors lights up your TV and despite the distance, Steve still hasn’t left. You know he wants to ask why you’re so far away, why you’re not wrapped up in his arms like it doesn’t matter, like last week never happened but then he would have to talk about it. Acknowledge it.

You fucking hated, ‘It’, and maybe Eddie Munson too.

Shadows dance across Steve’s face, eyes intent on the TV with knitted brows that meet in the middle of his forehead. Those hands that had wandered your body under blankets woven with secrets and what if’s for the past four years sit propped behind his head as he leans back into the cushions. His legs are spread wide, in a position that looks uncomfortable, letting you know he’s lost in whatever argument he’s been having with himself since the second movie after you had grabbed your own blanket. 

You were going to break the vicious cycle of you and Steve Harrington, right here, right now. While you still had a shred of willpower left. 

“I-I think I saw a full moon out there earlier.” His voice breaks through everything like it always does, hoarse from its lack of use, he clears his throat turning his head to look at you biting his nail.

The warm red lighting from Freddy’s boiler room illuminates his features in a way that dares those butterflies to wake back up from the eternal rest you banished them to. His sharp jaw, those high cheek bones kissed with freckles and moles. The dark pools of his irises beg you for something, surrounded by sparkling brown and gold. You couldn’t look away even if you tried. Movie star. 

”Yeah?” You manage, voice coming out quieter than intended, it softens his features almost instantly, like he missed the sound of it.

”Do you maybe wanna go for a drive?” 

You make him wait for an answer to a question you could never say no to even if you tried, doing your best to hang onto your fleeting self control for just a little bit longer before giving in with a,

“Let's go.”

Steve was right, there was a full moon tonight. It sits half hidden in the clouds but it still manages to shine bright enough to coat the sleeping town of Hawkins in an incandescent opal. He cranks the heat all the way up so you can rest your head on propped up hands along the open passenger window. Strings of orange and violet bulbs wrap around trees, twinkling off fences and front doors, lighting the dark spots that the moon can’t kiss. Flames still flicker and dance inside jack o lantern mouths that sit on front doorsteps, and you can’t help but inhale the bitter crisp fall air that hits your face. It even smells like Halloween outside. You can faintly hear the sound of Michael Jackson’s ‘Thriller’ spill from his speakers, and it curves up the corners of your lips. Closing your eyes, you let yourself bask in this moment, including the unmistakable feeling of Steve’s gaze.

The thing about Steve’s car is that it feels like you’re completely surrounded by him when you’re in it, wrapped up in him, consumed by him. The warm leather underneath you always smells rich, especially in the summer after it bakes in the sun. It’s soft to the touch, freshly lotioned by him at least once a week to prevent cracks, while the amber of his cologne permanently clings to the threads in his carpets, and soft chenille lining of his doors. Some days, you’ll catch hints of that Farrah Faucet spray he used in high school, but that was usually after a date. Loose change jingles in his cup holder, along with the stick of gum you almost always inevitably steal from it, and despite the internal battle you’ve been having with yourself, tonight was still no exception. Steve’s car felt like home.

Neither one of you talk as he drives the familiar path towards your favorite spot by the lake. His headlights illuminate the fog that wraps up the base of the trees, crawling up slowly to the dying leaves in a way that makes everything look like magic as you pass town lines. Including the boy next to you. It takes you a few minutes to work up the courage to steal a glance in his direction, but when you do he’s already looking at you too. His soft laugh after you both get caught makes your cheeks ignite, the corners of your lips twitching. 

”Eyes on the road, Harrington.” You manage, fighting the losing battle with your growing smile. You don’t look at him again, not until the BMW slowly rolls to a stop. 

Still, you waste no time jumping out of the car parked on the secret cliff you’d both discovered lost on a drive a few summers ago. Wind hits you in a heavy gust, free from anything that can slow it down up here, pebbling goosebumps along your skin. The cold ground cracks underneath your slippers you didn’t bother to change out of, while cinnamon and crimson leaves flutter in the trees. Crickets chirp in the distance, creating a melody with the wind howling through the dense forest that feels fitting for the holiday. Your heart swells from the feeling of nostalgia, filling you with the kind of joy something that a party could never do. 

“Spooky.” Steve whispers in your ear, coming up from behind you. The warmth of his spare jacket he keeps in the back seat drapes around your shoulders. It smells different than the one he wears regularly, but it's still him, so you selfishly pull it closer.

“Mmhmm.” You agree, eyelids growing heavy at the feeling of his breath against the soft skin at the back of your neck before his arms wrap around your waist like they belong there.

Steve pulls you close, mumbling something about being cold too and how you need to share. The tip of his nose traces the shell of your ear before burying his face into the crook of your neck. He inhales deeply, openly, like an addict that’s been denied his favorite drug and he’s finally got his hands on it. So just as quickly as they were banished, the butterflies come migrating back and you don’t have the energy to stop them, or to practice that new concept of self control because this feels too good right now. Maybe you’re an addict too.

Thin clouds spread out in wisps along the dark night sky, messily painted there by an invisible brush, the stars twinkle around them, shimmering bright even underneath it all. Your gaze traces the invisible lines of the Big Dipper, and it reminds you of the time you’d spent nearly twenty minutes trying to get Steve to see the formation sprawled out on a blanket at this very spot. You would’ve spent the whole evening if you had to. 

“Are you having a good Halloween?” He whispers, voice vibrating deep inside your bones while his cold fingertips trace along the waist band of your leggings under your sweater. You don’t remember when they got there.

You roll the answer around in your head with a thoughtful hum, admiring the orange glow of the town below. An owl calls out into the darkness and Steve’s lips curl into a grin pressing into your neck at the noise.

”Yeah, this is pretty perfect.” You start, thankful he can’t see your own smile that pushes up your cold cheeks, “Especially after getting the confirmation that I do have better taste in candy than you. I love when I’m right.”

He snorts loudly, and it vibrates against your skin making you giggle, his grip on you tightening playfully before pulling you deeper into his chest.

”I threw the game, I felt bad, you know, I didn’t want to outshine you on your favorite holiday. I purposely picked the candy no one would like.” His voice comes out right next to your ear, the baritone of it going straight to your legs threatening to turn them into jell-o.

“Mmmhmm.” You manage, voice cracking with nerves as the palm of his hand finds the plushness of your stomach and keeps it there. You wonder if he can feel the butterflies too. “Whatever you have to say to yourself to sleep better at night, Harrington.”

Steve laughs into your shoulder, the blunt end of his nails scratching lightly over the soft skin of your navel. Neither one of you try to fill the quiet after that, letting the million things that need to be said hang over you in the eerily beautiful silence of the canyon. They cling onto every swipe of his fingers, and the sighs that come from the back of your throat. The two of you stay wrapped up in each other like this for what feels like an hour, swaying back and forth, too scared to pop your favorite bubble. It’s not until a shiver runs up your spine, the frost in the air numbing the tip of your nose.

”We don’t have to leave, but we should at least sit in the car with the heater on for a while.” Steve breaks the silence with a slight chatter in his teeth, the pad of his thumb swiping against the smooth skin of your hip before untangling himself from your clothes. This was starting to feel like a sunrise kind of night.

”Yeah, that’s probably smart.” You clear your throat with a small smile, already missing the feeling of being surrounded by him, for once you don’t push it down.

You follow him to the car, letting your gaze greedily trace the outline of his shoulders in his crew neck sweater. His hair whips around wildly in the wind, the little product that was left in his hair standing no chance. He walks past the passenger door to open the back one instead of your usual spot in the front. The change makes you pause, you’d never really hung out in the backseat together, always using the center console as a barrier to stop you from doing the unthinkable. Everything always seems more romantic in the dead of night. 

“I had an idea earlier when I saw it was going to be a full moon tonight, I- uh, brought us a blanket.” He explains before the question even has a chance to leave your mouth, pink dusting his cheeks that you aren’t entirely sure is just from the cold.

It almost goes over your head, but the bashful way he won’t meet your gaze catches your attention. This wasn’t just some coincidence he saw the full moon from your front door, he had already known, probably with the help of the very kids that showed up dressed as Coneheads. 

Steve Harrington planned something for you. 

”I uh, stole this blank tape from Henderson too and recorded the re-run of Radio Mystery Theater, Eddie had told me about. Thought it might be something you’d like.”  

Your heart swells, threatening to burst in your chest with the unmistakable feeling of wanting to kiss him again.

“I can’t believe you did this Steve, I’ve always wanted to listen to an episode.” You practically beam, taking a few steps closer, looking up at him from under your lashes. “You remembered.”  

The crimson that deepens in the apple of his cheeks this time is definitely not from the cold.

”We’ve had a lot of shitty solo Halloweens, and since this was our first one together, I just wanted, I- I guess I just wanted to make this one special. Maybe we can start a new tradition or something?” he shrugs, muttering the last part with a scratch at the back of his neck pretending to be nonchalant but you can always see right through him.

”Yeah, I’d like that.” Your admission is quiet, but the smile he bites back threatens to be megawatt before reaching out his hand, ushering you into the car and out of the two am chill

”I’m gonna go grab the blanket.”

He closes the door gently after making sure you’re comfortable, and you watch him with hungry eyes from the back window pull out a down comforter from the trunk. It’s the one from his bed, the fabric a deep plush deep burgundy with a black trimming around the edges, it looks so warm in his grasp as another chill rattles through your bones. He comes around to his side, opening the door to hand it to you with a grin that only grows wider when you snatch it eagerly before popping to the driver's seat to turn his car on. The heat starts to blow through the vents instantly, sending another shiver up your spine and a chatter of your teeth. Your gaze falls on the sliver of skin that reveals itself to you where his sweater rides up his back as he leans over the center console to grab the cassette tape from his glove compartment. Of course there’s another cluster of moles and freckles there that make you want to explore where the rest hide.

He pops it in with ease, pressing play and waits until he hears the opening crackle through the speakers, a quiet ‘yes’ slipping past his lips. A gust of cold air follows him when he opens the passenger door again as he slides into the leather seats next to you, knees knocking into yours before shutting it. He wastes no time finding you under the covers, torturing you with his cold hands by slipping them back underneath your sweater.

”Steve!” You jump, scolding him with a giggle without pushing him away, and he takes this opportunity to pull you back into the position you were in on your couch at home before you tried to find some semblance of boundaries.

He keeps his hands under your sweater, even when they’re warmed back up, the pad of his thumb rubbing soft circles along your rib cage. His cheek rests on your forehead, full lips tickling your skin when he talks. You can feel his heart beat against your palm, and how it speeds up every time your fingers curl into the cotton of his sweater whenever you laugh, instinctively pulling him closer. He doesn’t fight it, instead his grip tightens on the soft dough of your thighs draped over his knees, making sure every inch of you stays pressed firmly against him.

This doesn’t feel like best friends. This feels like something more, but it’s always felt like something more.

In fact you think you’ve known you were in love with Steve Harrington long before you ever admitted it yourself. Burying it so far deep, the fleeting idea just didn’t exist to you anymore, but tonight in the soft glow of the moon sitting in the back seat of his car, you were sure of it and its existence. 

It feels like he can read your mind when his fingers curl under your chin, tilting your head up to look at him. The stars twinkle in the gold of his auburn eyes like he plucked them from the sky and hung them there. So close, you can see those freckles you’d discovered the last time he looked at you just like this. That one badly behaved swoop of hair tickles the top of your forehead, and your fingers twitch to push it back for him. Movie star.

The tape stops with a loud click, leaving nothing but the low whistle of wind outside, and it mixes with your heavy breaths, electric currents stinging at your fingertips. His heart thumps wildly against your hand, like he was working himself up for something big. The notion sets a fire ablaze on every inch of your skin in anticipation.

”I want, I want to talk about something.” He says just barely above a whisper with a gaze so intense, it makes you want to look away. You don’t.

“What about?” Your voice comes out somehow even quieter, eyes falling to his lips on their own accord. He catches it, kicking his heart rate up even more. 

Was he going to do the unthinkable? You try to push the thought down, but it fights back this time. Refusing the denial exile you’ve shoved it in for the past four years. 

“Last week, at um, at Munson’s.” His eyebrows pinch together, visibly swallowing his nerves, as the tip of his nose dares to brush against yours. “God, I-I can’t stop thinking about it.”

The last part comes out like he’s being tortured by it. At least it’s not just you.

“If we’re being honest though,” He continues, his palm running up your thigh to squeeze at your hip, keeping you close, “I don’t think I ever stop thinking about you.”

His words crack your chest open, shining light on all the dark places that you’ve kept him in, just like the sunshine Steve Harrington is made of. 

”Really?” You manage to say, after fighting with the words that keep getting tangled up on the edge of your tongue, desperately trying to give him more than a one word answer but failing miserably. Years of daydreaming about this moment in silent shame freezing you up. 

He nods, pressing his forehead against yours, yearning eyes searching inside the dark pools of your pupils down the slope of his nose. 

“You just, you brushed it off so easily, I thought -“ You start, replaying the way he’d rolled back into his seat, sipping his beer so casually like nothing happened. The confidence in his voice bragging about how Eddie got it wrong, that he wasn’t in love with you.

”What’d you think?” He encourages gently, the hand on your hip coming up to cup your cheek, the pad of his thumb brushing along the bone. 

”I just thought I was the only one.” You confess, that same defeated feeling from that night creeping back in despite the way his gaze softens all of your edges. 

“That night at Eddie’s, I freaked out. Robin told me it was pretty obvious that I have feelings for you and it got me in my head that I was secretly making you uncomfortable because if she noticed it, surely you did too. So I completely overcompensated after I lost control at the bonfire, there was just no way I could stop kissing you, and then I panicked again earlier at your house-“

“Steve.” You say his name like it's something romantic, successfully ending his rambling with another brush of your nose against his. .

”Yeah?” He breathes, the tension leaving his shoulders like hearing your voice was enough. 

You meet his heavy stare from underneath your lashes, the foggy glass of the windows creating a halo around his head from the soft glow of the moonlight. 

“I dare you to kiss me again.” There’s confidence in your voice you don’t recognize, and the corner of his mouth quirks at it. 

“What if I just wanted to kiss you because I wanted to?” Steve whispers, closing more of the little space that’s left between you.

Thump, thump, thump, thump.

“Then, I’d say…” You brush your top lip against his bottom one, a low simmer starting to boil in the pit of your gut, spreading warmth between your thighs at his sharp intake of breath, “what are you waiting for, Harrington.”

His lips are curved into a smirk when he presses them to yours, his thumb finding the corner of your mouth to open you up just enough for him that your lips move like they were made for this, for him. He handles you differently in the back seat of his car than at the bonfire, he’s gentle, taking his time without prying eyes, savoring you. Your fingers curl into his sweater, pulling him closer because of it, like he can never be close enough, nose pressed into his cheek. He hums in response, and you can feel his smile return before his hand moves to the back of your neck, the pad of his thumb rubbing gentle circles on the soft skin behind your ear. His tongue swipes against your bottom lip begging you to finally let him in, and when you oblige, you both moan at the taste of each other.

It feels like Steve is everywhere, surrounding you with all of the little details of him embedded in every inch of his car. He’s in the leather underneath you that squeaks with your movements, in the amber and cinnamon that warm the air around you, comforting your nerves that threaten to fizz and burst like a live wire. His tongue explores every inch of your mouth like he’s hungry for it, like nothing else could satisfy him, massaging against your own in a way that earns a moan from the back of your throat. One you have no control over, but you’re starting to realize that maybe you never really had control when it came to Steve.

He breaks away just enough to whisper the word ‘perfect’ with a swipe of his nose against your own before pulling you onto his lap. You gasp at the feel of him as your knees press into the seat on either side of his hips. The effect you never really knew you had on him pressing into your heat with only the fabric of each other's pajama pants as a barrier, a feeling that only ever existed in your day dreams. But this was real, and he was closer to you than you’d ever allowed each other to be, dark wild eyes staring up at you like you were the one who painted the moon and the clouds in the sky. That swoop across his forehead has an extra curl to it from the sweat that beads at the top of his head, auburn hair turning into a wild untamable mess. His big hands grip the tops of your thighs, bringing you out of your thoughts and back to him.

”You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this.” He confesses with an exhausted laugh, as if carrying the burden of ‘what if’ had been weighing him down. “I’m going to be insufferable now, I hope you know.”

His teeth shimmer in the white glow as his kiss bitten lips pull up into the kind of smile that’s contagious, even getting a giggle from you that cuts through the tension like a knife making Steve pull you closer. The tips of his fingers return to their favorite place under your sweater where they trace like a whisper against the warm skin of your lower back, and it makes your eyelids grow heavy. You slump more of your weight into him burying your head into his neck, your own hands traveling up his sweater, finger nails scratching against the rough trail of hair there before your palms rest on the thick thatch on his chest. Your lips press a kiss the two moles that had been begging you to do it for four years just below his ear, and he hums squeezing you closer despite running out of room to physically be able to.

”I want to do this with you all the time,” Steve whispers, lips brushing against your ear, “not just tonight, not just this.”

Hearing Steve say it out loud, confess the one thing you always had to pretend didn’t exist blooms something deep in your chest that you didn’t know could grow there. Shining light on all the darkness and doubts that had made themselves a far too comfortable home. Why keep denying something you both clearly want so bad?

”D-do you feel the same? Please tell me you feel the same.” You can hear the doubt creep into his voice from your misperceived silence when he whispers the plea hot against your lips, begging you to turn your head and meet them.

You almost want to laugh at the idea that Steve Harrington had reservations that you might not feel the same way about him. Wasn’t it obvious?

”Listen, Harrington.” You sigh, meeting his gaze from under your lashes, his heart kicking back up against your palm, his fingers going still. “If you think you’re going to be insufferable, you clearly have no idea who I really am.”

It takes Steve a minute to absorb your words, but when he does, the deep bellied laugh it earns you vibrates against the windows of the car and wraps around your heart. He pulls one hand from under your sweater, fingers curling under your chin again to get to what both of you want more of. A lopsided grin pushes up the vampire bites on his cheek, full lips hovering just over yours and it feels like the first time all over again. Part of you thinks it might always feel this way with him. 

“Don’t underestimate my capacity to yearn, baby.” His lips brush against yours with every word, a shiver running up your spine.

Baby.

“What if I dare you to show me?” You whisper, teeth nipping at his bottom lip enjoying the feeling of the blunt end of his nails digging into your back.

“Careful, you know I can’t say no to that.” He huffs with a grin, warm breath against your skin, silently offering up his own dare for you to close the rest of the distance and give in.

”I’m counting on it.”

You take the bait without giving him any time to respond, accepting his challenge by pressing your lips to his that match your energy almost immediately, meeting you hungry and ready. It’s easy to get lost in him again, and you let it consume you even when the soft pink glow of the sunrise shines through the fog on the windows like a kaleidoscope. Because finally, here, in the back seat of his car, you are in love with Steve Harrington, and it doesn’t have to be a secret anymore. 

[pinkdaiisies]

Established relationship fics are great and all, but I am such a sucker for slow burn friends to lovers fics. Maybe it’s the hopeless romantic in me…

[dayasfilms]

SPOILED LOVE - A STRANGER THINGS AU

Summary: You quite literally had everything. The perfect job, the perfect boyfriend, the perfect life. That was until a scandal you didn’t cause shattered it all. Now forced to start over in a city that doesn’t know your name, you are forced to take a job far beneath your old life and meet Steve Harrington, your new coworker who can’t seem to stand you. You’re spoiled, he’s stubborn, and things are about to get complicated.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ content minors dni, office coworkers au, the usual stranger things/upside down mayhem does not exist, mentions of Y/N, some mistakes in information so not everything is factual because this is only fanfiction, slow burn, set in the early 2000s, enemies to lovers trope, spoiled rich girl!reader x stubborn golden boy!steve, eventual smut, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, specific warnings will be included in the chapter itself

Note: This is my new Stranger Things series, except, it’s not set in the original universe. This will be set in the early 2000s, and all of the Upside Down mayhem does not exist. However, all of the characters will continue to have the same personality as they do in the show. This is a slow burn, enemies to lovers story with a focus on Luxe (aka reader — don’t worry, her name is whatever you choose) and Steve. There will be lots of office tension, banter, and emotional growth ahead. I hope you enjoy reading!

Stranger Things Masterlist

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•• Meet the Characters: Starlight Studios Executives

•• Meet the Characters: Starlight Studios Interns

•• Meet the Characters: Lennox Studios Crew

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•• Prologue (coming soon)

•• Chapter One: New Girl

•• Chapter Two:

•• Chapter Three:

More coming soon…

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•• If You Would Like to Support Me With a Coffee

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[andvys]

the edges of your soul (I haven't seen yet) ⭐︎ chapter seventeen

⭐︎ Now I'm racing for what to do, all roads lead me right back to you

Warnings: hurt/comfort, a few sprinkles of angst, kinda mean!Eddie, mentions of depression, uh... don't know what else to add

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Summary: Your night with Aaron didn't only change your relationship with Steve -- it also brought chaos upon the whole group, leading you to make a drastic decision that might be for the sake of everyone.

Word count: 13k+

Author's note: Me and @hellfire--cult say; you're welcome. Roe wrote the bestest part, aka everything that came after that moment hehe

series masterlist ⭐︎ previous chapter

☀︎

After a week of standing still close by the gates of the community, the RV is finally running again. Filled with gas and two extra gallons provided by the community, along with supplies – food, water, medicine, ammo, and a new rifle. 

Nancy is already in the driver's seat. Having said goodbye to Tommy already, she spared herself the awkwardness of engaging more with him in front of Eddie and Steve after spending the night with the older man. She is tapping the steering wheel, looking into blank space as she waits. 

Eddie, who is sitting down on the steps of the RV, nodding along to Tommy’s advice for the road ahead, can’t seem to find it in himself to focus on what the man is telling him, not when his friend looks like he is about to die. 

Steve is leaning against the side of the RV with his arms crossed. His knee is bouncing as his eyes are stuck on the road ahead. Waiting and waiting, waiting for you. His heart keeps pounding painfully in his chest. His mind racing with all kinds of thoughts. Ones he doesn’t want to think about. Ones he is afraid of. What if you decide to stay here after all? What if you decide that Aaron should be the one to take you to your family and bring you back here with him? 

The thought pains him. It causes shudders to run down his back. It fills him with dread and sadness, but also with anger. 

What would he even do if you said you are not coming with them… with him? 

Would he be able to do anything about it? Would he get desperate enough to ask you to stay with him by telling you the truth about his feelings? 

Steve brings his hand up to his hair, running it through it nervously. He takes a deep breath, though it does little to calm him down. Only when he finally catches sight of you, walking down the road and to where he is standing, does he feel like he can breathe again. That is, until he sees him. 

Aaron is walking beside you, holding your hand. He feels like his breath gets knocked out of him again. He knows he should look away to spare himself the pain of watching that, but he can’t. 

Eddie pushes himself off the steps when he sees you. He clears his throat, trying to catch Steve’s attention, but the brunette is set on you. His eyes are glued on you. Eyes filled with sadness and pain. 

He doesn’t look away. He can’t. 

“Morning.” Aaron nods at Steve, who doesn’t even acknowledge him, only you. 

But you aren’t looking at him, nor at Eddie, who is trying to make eye contact with you, but your eyes are on the ground. The metalhead can’t tell whether it’s shame etched into your features or regret, but he can tell that you don’t feel comfortable standing here in front of Steve while having your hand held by the man you spent the night with. With the man you didn’t want it to be. 

“Brought you your sunshine back.” Aaron says, squeezing your hand as he briefly glances at Steve, who is still not looking at him. 

Tommy, who is standing on the side, looks down, chuckling under his breath. 

“Thank you, I was starting to think she would ditch us and stay here.” Eddie jokes, still looking at you. 

And when you finally look up, he notices the same exhaustion on your face that he sees on Steve’s. 

And Steve, he sees it too. He wants to feel relief so badly, but he knows the exhaustion can have two very different meanings. The latter makes him feel nauseous. He doesn’t want to think about it. His mind was swirling with the sickest thoughts all night. He doesn’t want to let it consume his mind again, not when you are back and here, ready to get back inside the RV with them. With him. 

“Never.” Aaron chuckles, looking down at you. “The offer was on the table, but I think she prefers you guys.” 

Steve’s mood sours even more. And he can’t help but huff at Aaron’s words. 

Eddie notices one thing, and that is how your smile doesn’t reach your eyes. You avoid Steve’s eyes, especially.  

“Yeah, I’ll stick with my friends.” You say softly and look up at Aaron, giving him a small smile, but still big enough to make Steve’s heart ache. “But thank you, Aaron… For everything.” Your words have deeper meaning, and Steve knows that. It only worsens the pain in his heart, knowing that you have shared special things with another man. He doesn’t know whether he wants to scream or slam his head into the RV. He knows he should look away from you and him, but he can’t. 

Aaron nods, giving you a soft smile and another squeeze to your hand before he lets you go. 

“Anytime, Darlin’.” He nods, tipping his cowboy hat at you, making you smile a little bigger. 

“Alright, are you ready to go?” Eddie asks you, wanting nothing more than to put his best friend out of his misery. 

“Yeah. I’m ready.” You mumble, still not looking at him. 

You turn towards Tommy and step towards the older man. You bid your farewells and thank him for all he’s done for you and your friends. He shakes your hand and gives you a warm smile, telling you that the gates will always be open for you and your friends. 

You feel a bit awkward having to say goodbye to Aaron in front of Eddie and him. You can feel his eyes on you. His gaze is burning into your skin, and not in a pleasant way. You know he watched you last night, when you were dancing with Aaron, when you kissed him. You didn’t look at Steve after, not even when you left with him. You couldn’t. And now you can’t either. 

When you turn back to Aaron, you notice that he is looking at him. His chin tilted down a bit, eyes filled with emotions you can’t read. He isn’t glaring, nor is he looking at him cockily, none of that. There is something in his eyes, something only directed at Steve. And when he looks back down at you, his eyes flicker with different emotions. His lips curl into a smile again, and he takes a step forward, opening his arms to you. 

“C’mere.” 

Your cheeks heat up when he reaches forward, taking your hand into his own. He pulls you towards him and away from Steve. He wraps his arms around you and gives you a tight hug. Leaning down, his lips brush against your ear, “be careful out there for me, alright?” 

Steve squints his eyes. He clenches his fists, digging his nails into his palm. He takes a deep breath. He feels unsure of what he feels. Anger or sadness? He isn’t sure at this point. But he knows one thing: it hurts awfully to watch you be held by another man. 

“Always.” You whisper and squeeze his waist before you pull away. You look up at him, intending it to be the last time. You say goodbye with a smile, but he has different plans. Before you can let go and step away from him, Aaron cups your cheeks and caresses your cheekbone with his thumb. His eyes flicker between your eyes and your mouth, and then he leans down and presses his lips against yours. He says goodbye with a kiss. 

Steve’s heart drops to his stomach. The same nausea from the night before rising up in him. Anger fades away so quickly, and dejection settles in instead. His nails no longer dig into his palms. His chest no longer feels tight from rage. His eyes aren’t glaring anymore. All he feels… is pain. 

Eddie squeezes his eyes shut when he sees the expression on Steve’s face. He was mad at him before he knew how he really felt about you. Now he can’t feel that anymore, not when he is suffering like this. He can’t bear those eyes. 

Steve stares at you, at the back of your head. He watches. He watches how another man holds your face and kisses you. That’s all he can do. Watch. He knows he should move. He knows he should turn around and get inside the RV, wait for you there. But he is frozen. Stuck in place. 

Just like you, if he looked closer. 

When Aaron pulls away, he brushes his knuckles against your cheek. 

“Remember to contact me once you arrive so I know that you’re safe. And if you need me to come pick you up, use the coordinates, and I’ll do so.” Aaron says, looking into your eyes deeply. 

“Okay.” You whisper, nodding. 

“Okay.” Aaron nods and leans down once more, this time only giving you a short peck instead of a full-blown kiss. It’s still enough to make you blush, to make you flustered beneath his eyes. 

You squeeze his wrist and give him one last smile. 

“Goodbye, Aaron.” 

“Goodbye, Sunshine.” 

His smile looks a little mischievous, his wink too. You can’t tell what he is trying to say. But his eyes flicker between you and Steve. 

Steve, who isn’t even looking your way anymore when you turn to look at him, is facing away from you. 

If only you saw the tears in his eyes that he is hiding from you. 

You take a deep breath and look around one last time before you turn around and make your way inside the RV. You don’t know how much longer it will take to get to Nevada. You don’t know how much more pain you will have to bear till then. But you know that the rest of this journey won't be an easy one. 

“Hey Nance.” You say softly, smiling at the girl in the driver’s seat. 

She drops her map and turns to face you. You have seen her this morning, sneaking out of Tommy’s room with hickeys on her neck. She froze when she was met by the sight of you standing by the window and sipping on a freshly brewed coffee. You expected her to get awkward, but instead she smirked your way and told you that a girls talk was much needed. 

“Hey, you.” She smiles, eying you up and down. She leans her elbow against the steering wheel and points a finger at you. “We’re still having that conversation later.” 

“Yeah, yeah…” You whisper, growing flustered beneath her blue eyes. You don’t get to say much more because Steve stomps inside after you. He brushes past you and makes his way over to the couch. He sits down, refusing to look your way, and maybe it’s for the better, because you aren’t sure if you want him to look at you. 

Eddie walks in too, after saying his goodbyes. He waves at the two men one last time, giving them polite smiles before he shuts the door and locks it. He breathes in deeply and looks over at Steve. 

The worried look in his eyes makes you tense up, even more when the metalhead glances at you with emotions he hasn’t shown you before. You don’t know why, but it makes your chest ache, and it makes you unable to look at him longer. You force your eyes away from him and look down, awkwardly making your way to your seat, which was next to Steve. 

Eddie watched you intensely. His brown eyes take you in as he tries to read the expression on your face and the obvious tension in your shoulders. He wants to ask if you are okay, but then he looks over at Steve, who is looking out the window, refusing to turn towards the front of the RV, and he decides against it. 

With a sigh, he turns around and makes his way over to the passenger seat. He plops down and grabs the map off Nancy’s lap, only briefly glancing at the girl who is shaking her head at him in confusion. Her eyebrows are furrowed. Confusion and irritation were written all over her face. 

“You gonna drive or not, Wheeler?” 

Eddie’s voice was cold. The coldest you’ve ever heard. You never thought you would hear him talk like that, and much less towards Nancy, who looked just as surprised, and even hurt. She stuttered a bit, not knowing how to deal with Eddie’s sudden anger.

“I– Yes, I’m– Yeah.” She turns the engine key, and the RV comes to life. Steve was still not looking your way, and you felt nauseous as the motorhome rocked side to side. You weren’t going to be able to stand it, so you got up, and rushed towards the back where the bed was, creating distance between the two of you once more.

Steve felt his heart collapsing at how quickly you moved from his side. How quickly you couldn’t stand his presence. Just one minute passed since you sat down next to him, and it was enough. 

He stared at the floor, unable to speak, unable to move and Eddie noticed. His eyes moved from the map and towards Steve. He sighed, putting the map down, his eyes turning to look at Nancy who was driving.

“Change of plans. You go to the back, have your girls talk, while I drive and Steve is my copilot.” At his words, Nancy frowned, looking at him before staring back at the road.

“What? We– That’s not how we planned it– You can’t drive, your leg–”

“Well, I am changing it, and I can move my leg. So, stop the RV, and let me drive.” Steve’s eyes were wide at Eddie’s tone, finally noticing the change. He saw Nancy’s curls bob a little as she shook her head, slowly stopping the RV to get out of the Driver’s seat. Nancy didn’t even glance towards Steve as she passed, and the brown haired man could hear a sniffle following right behind her steps.

He heard the sliding door close, and Eddie stepped into the Driver’s seat, putting the radio on, for the very first time, and his cassette. Steve’s eyes widened, pushing himself up from the couch, and rushing to the passenger’s seat, shaking his head.

“Eddie, we can’t use the radio, it drains the battery–”

“You really wanna hear that?” Eddie’s eyes were knives towards Steve as he buckled himself up. The brown haired man trembled slightly at the realization that Nancy and you might be talking about last night. He certainly didn’t want to hear that. He shook his head, sitting on the passenger’s seat and buckling up, before grabbing the map. 

Eddie started the drive again, and the music of various metal bands filled the air. Steve frowned, looking at his friend.

“How did you get this?”

“Remember the barista? Back at the community? Yeah, he gave me a copy of his playlist. Fucking cool, isn’t it?” Steve nodded, looking back at the road as he felt the emptiness start to consume him a little.

“Everyone made at least one friend in there, huh.” Eddie cringed at his friend’s words, sighing.

“No one would have been able to handle all the Harrington charm.” He joked, and Steve shook his head, frowning.

“What?”

“Especially that grumpy attitude, and those amazing eyebags you have.” At Eddie’s jokes, Steve rolled his eyes.

“Wow, thanks for that man.” 

“Just trying to cheer someone up here.” Eddie stated as he whistled along the screaming that was coming out of the speakers. Steve cringed, looking at his friend again.

“Couldn’t you have at least gotten a tape that– I don’t know, would have been to everyone’s liking?”

“Aw, are you sad we don’t have Madonna in here?” At that, Steve finally cracked a small smile. A small victory on Eddie’s side. “Maybe I did get other cassettes, but I’m saving them for special occasions.” 

A beat of silence fills them after those jokes, the RV moving back and forth as Steve stares at the map. Clearly, Eddie didn’t need guidance. He had already inspected the map before, and Eddie had a good sense of direction. He always did. But maybe Steve was hallucinating. Maybe he was panicking, but he swore he heard Nancy’s gasp, or a laugh. So he made conversation again to add to the music.

“Why… the sudden change of attitude?”

“Come again?” Eddie asked, as if he hadn’t noticed himself how he was acting recently.

“You were a little… harsh? With Nance?” At Steve’s words, Eddie shrugged, shaking his head.

“Really? Didn’t think so.” Steve couldn’t help the uneasy feeling in his chest. He looked out of the window, knowing he won’t get Eddie’s thoughts out of his mouth any time soon. A pang of pain in his head interrupted his own though. He felt himself become a little light-headed as he looked at the road, the sight of it dizzying him. “Steve?”

“Huh? I’m– fine. I just got a little dizzy, that’s all–”

“You mean the lack of sleep. Try to get some–” But Steve immediately interrupted, holding onto the map tightly, looking down at it.

“I’m fine. Keep driving.” Eddie glanced at his best friend for a few seconds, then his eyes returned to the road ahead, his grip tightening on the steering wheel as anger filled him. The feeling of helplessness. The feeling of pure fear of losing Steve.

And no one else but him noticed.

-

Eddie was having a bad day. At least that’s what you told yourself on the first day of being back on the road. He was unusually quiet with you. He barely talked to you, and he barely looked at you. 

You thought that he got off on the wrong foot that morning, that maybe he didn’t want to talk, that he wasn’t feeling well, or just having a bad day like you or Steve, or even Nancy had before. But then the second day passed, and the third, and he was still not… his usual self. 

A weird energy hangs in the air. It makes you feel uncomfortable. It makes you feel guilty, and you don’t know why. You didn’t do anything wrong, did you? But taking a look at Nancy, and seeing those sad blue eyes follow her best friend, who barely talks to her these days, makes you feel like it is your fault… somehow. You don’t know if something happened between them, if they had an argument or a disagreement when you weren’t around, but something tells you that you are the reason for the way he is treating her. 

Her eyes are sad whenever they fall on Eddie, but they are filled with anger when they lock with hazel ones. Steve cowers away every time her ice cold glare hits him. 

He doesn’t even look at you – only when you aren’t looking at him. His eyes are glued to you every chance he gets when you are busy with something. They roam your face and your body. Those eyes filled with longing would break your heart if only you caught him. 

It’s snowing outside, strongly so. The wind is heavy too, making it impossible for any of you to sit outside for dinner the way you did all these days. When you and Nancy ate your dinner at the small table in the RV, Steve and Eddie left to eat theirs outside. In those three days you have been on the road, the four of you haven’t sat down to eat together once. Tonight is the first, and it feels awkward. Nobody is talking. The only sound filling the RV is the scraping against plates and the howling of the wind outside. 

Eddie is staring at his bowl, shoving down his food with an irritated look on his face. Steve’s eyes are glued to his food as well, though he doesn’t eat as fastly as Eddie does. Nancy, who is sitting beside you on the sofa, is picking at the beans while your plate is completely untouched. Your stomach is empty, but your appetite isn’t there at all. The thought of even picking up your fork and taking a bite makes you feel nauseous. 

You look down at the map, looking at all the possible directions to take to get to Nevada. You know you won’t get home any time soon, but you know that some roads would take you there faster while others wouldn’t. Some could bring unwanted obstacles. A hoard of infected that you somehow managed to avoid so far. A tree blocking the road, forcing you to take another exit. Monsters. Another snowstorm. Unfortunately the map can’t provide you with this kind of information. 

“You should eat.” Nancy says softly, nudging your shoulder. 

“I’m not hungry.” You mumble, not looking up from the map. 

Steve glances at you, worriedly looking between your untouched plate and your face. He notices the dark circles under your eyes. The line between your eyebrows. The tired look deeply into your features. 

His heart aches. It constantly aches now after he lost you. You are right there. You are right in front of him, and yet it feels like you are gone. What he would do to feel you in his arms again. To hold you and–

“You should still eat.” 

You tense up at the sound of Eddie’s voice. The roughness and coldness in it being so clear. It doesn’t only make you freeze. 

You look up to find him staring at you intensely. His brown eyes which are usually filled with warmth, are… cold, just like his voice is. 

“I said I’m not hungry, Eddie–”

He slams his empty plate on the table, making you flinch a little. 

“Yeah, you said the same this morning and last night. You are not eating, you are not sleeping. If you keep going that way, you’ll get sick again and hold us back. Do you wanna see your family or not?” 

Your eyes widen and you open your mouth, though your mind is empty and you couldn’t form a sentence if you tried. His words feel like a slap in your face. The hurt residing in your chest is deep enough as it is. To feel such anger from someone who did nothing but defend and comfort you till now feels awfully painful. He had never been angry at you before. He had never done anything to make you doubt how he feels about you. Eddie had your back from the start, back when he knew barely anything about you. He was the one who fought for you to stay with them, and now… this?

Steve’s heart aches at the sight of your shocked expression. His sad eyes soften when he notices the hurt flashing in your eyes. He froze at Eddie’s words. 

“Okay, what crawled up your ass?” Nancy finally snaps, dropping her bowl on the table the way he did as she glares daggers into her best friend, having had enough of his attitude and the silent treatment he is punishing her with. She felt nothing but sadness for the past few days but now she can’t help but feel angry. “What is your problem?”

Eddie closes his eyes and takes a deep breath before he turns to face her. 

“I am not talking to you.” 

“Clearly!” Nancy scoffs, shaking her head at him. “You are being an asshole.” She snaps, having had enough of this. 

You blink, snapping out of it. Your eyes meet his for just a second, but a second enough to see the worry and the pity. God. You don’t need that. His eyebrows are furrowed as he continues to look at you, and you can’t take it. You force your eyes away from him. 

“Right.” Eddie scoffs. 

“No, you’ve been an asshole since the party! Giving us the silent treatment and only opening your mouth to be a jerk… really, Munson?” Nancy exclaims, tilting her head to the side as she stares at her best friend. Her words come from anger and despair, but her eyes say something else. Something Eddie can’t even see through the haze that he is in. 

You look between them, and when you see the way they look at each other, the way they never did before, your heart starts pounding a little. 

“That’s rich coming from you.” Eddie laughs humorlessly. 

“What is that supposed to mean?” Nancy snaps, squinting her eyes at him. 

“You were an asshole first, Wheeler. You were a real asshole.” Eddie mumbles, and for the first time in days, you see something other than indifference in his eyes. You see disappointment towards Nancy. 

And you see the way Nancy freezes as she gets quiet for a moment. The realization sinks in when her eyes flicker over to Steve, only for a brief second. 

The lump in your throat grows, and your heart starts pounding a little faster when you look between them. Did she say something to him? Did they argue when you weren’t there? Did she hurt him? 

Anxiety creeps up on you as your eyes flicker back and forth between them, noticing how Steve avoids her glaring blue eyes, no ounce of remorse or guilt in them, while his are filled with sadness. 

“With good reason.” Nancy murmurs under her breath, shaking her head at Eddie. 

“Really?” Eddie scoffs as he leans forward. “If you really think so then I have every reason to be disappointed in you.” 

The fear that you have been the reason for all of this turns into harsh reality at his next words. 

“You took care of someone you met just months ago, when the one who has been here for years should have been your priority.” 

There have been many moments in your life when you have felt like your heart stopped beating, when the pain was so deep that you froze and could only stare. Harsh words have been thrown at you before. Friendships have been broken. Friendships that were only ever one-sided. People you gave your everything to, dropped you without batting an eye, replacing you without a struggle. 

In the end it was only ever you. No matter how much you tried, you never found people who wanted you. 

You found something real here. You found them. Eddie and Nancy, who took you in, invited you into their home without a moment of hesitation. And even Steve, who despite his efforts to push you away, let you in. 

It was good. It was nice. For a moment, you had everything you ever wanted. You can’t believe that the reason for it to fall apart would be yourself. And even worse, it didn’t only fall apart for you. It’s falling apart for them now too. They are falling apart. 

The lump in your throat grows bigger and bigger, cutting off the air to breathe. Your eyes start burning with unwanted tears as you look between Eddie and Nancy. Their voices are faded now as they still argue. All you see are the angry glares they throw at each other while Steve looks helplessly between them. 

Your ears start ringing, and your chest starts hurting so badly when you take a good look at him. 

He is suffering. 

He is suffering because of you. You broke that friendship between you because you couldn’t control your feelings. 

Nancy is suffering because she is on the way to losing her best friend, because of you. Because she was angry at Steve for hurting you, because she chose your side when she shouldn’t have. You never wanted this. You never wanted her to pick a side. You never wanted her to be angry at him. 

“Sunshine?” 

You snap out of it. Blinking a few times, you look up at him to see him eyeing your face. His hazel eyes are filled with worry, and you can’t take it. You can’t. 

Nancy and Eddie pay no attention to you or him; they keep snapping at each other. Your name is never mentioned, and Eddie doesn’t throw you in directly, but you know that every jab is meant to be directed at you. 

And you can’t take this anymore. 

You can’t watch them fall apart anymore. 

You can’t let yourself be the reason for them to lose one another. 

You get up and storm away, not noticing how Steve was ready to run after you, thinking that you were about to go through the door and out into the storm. But he settles back into his seat when you lock yourself in the bathroom. 

You grip the edges of the sink as you take a deep breath. One look in the mirror is enough to cause those tears to fall. An indifference towards yourself growing deeply. The sickening feeling in your chest keeps spreading as the realization sinks deeper and deeper. 

Of course, you had to ruin that one good thing in your life. 

And you dragged them down with you. 

But you can’t, you won’t keep doing that. You won’t ruin what they have. You won’t add further damage. 

So, despite the pain and the heartache, your next decision is an easy one. 

-

Steve is sipping on what must be his third cup of coffee, though it does little to take away his exhaustion. He is tired, more than ever before, but he can’t sleep. Every time his eyes close, cruel pictures invade his mind. Nightmares that only ever consisted of Robin and how he could not save her are now replaced with you getting ripped away from him, and every time it happens differently, leaving him to feel more afraid after each nightmare. 

He is sitting by the fire, across from Nancy, whose eyes are practically burning with rage. He felt small beneath her gaze before, feeling the indifference towards him in a whole new way. It makes him feel uncomfortable, but also a little irritated because she won’t even really talk to him. All she does is snap at him and glare daggers into his skin. 

It worsened after he saw you talking to her earlier. 

The whole day was spent in awkward, tense silence after Eddie’s and Nancy’s fight the night before. Nobody really talked to each other. Nobody really looked at one another. Only when Eddie decided that it was time for a break from driving were you all forced to interact in some way. 

While Eddie and Steve prepared a little fire, you had dragged Nancy away from them and towards the little stream Eddie stopped the RV by. Steve couldn’t make out any words that left your mouth, though he saw the sadness on your face from a mile away. His curiosity made him watch the whole interaction, and when he saw the shock and denial on Nancy’s face as she shook her head, his heart fell a little. Despite not knowing what it was that you had said to her, he felt anxiety creeping up on him. Nancy kept shaking her head and fighting you over whatever you were saying, though he could see that you were set on it. 

You avoided his eyes when you made your way back to the RV, and you haven’t left it ever since. 

Now he is left dealing with Nancy’s hateful eyes as she is cleaning her gun. He wants to glare back at her, but the brunette looks a little intimidating right now, especially with that gun in her head. He is convinced that a part of her wants to aim it at him. 

He takes another sip of his coffee and looks around. The little spot that Eddie had picked is beautiful. A hidden little spot in the forest, surrounded by pine trees. A pretty stream where Eddie is sitting by on his camping chair, away from everyone. The sun is shining, melting the snow on the ground. It’s difficult to appreciate this scenery when his heart is aching and his friend group is falling apart. 

When he looks back at Nancy, she huffs and rolls her eyes, making him clench his jaw. 

“You got something you want to say to me, Nance?” 

“Nothing nice.”

Steve scoffs and nods his head. 

“Yeah, I figured that.” 

“So we can agree that you’re an asshole? Amazing.”

Steve squints his eyes at her. Irritation bubbling up inside of him. He’s had enough of this. He’s had enough of her attitude, and he’s had enough of watching Eddie treat you so coldly. He’s had enough of them picking sides. He’s had enough of them fighting each other, when they were inseparable before. 

It’s nice to know that he isn’t the only one who feels protective over you, but he is sick of everything that has been happening after leaving Wyoming. 

He takes a deep breath and opens his mouth, though he never uses his voice. The words get caught in his throat when the RV door opens and you come out, stealing his attention. Your eyes meet his for a second, and his whole body freezes when he sees the redness in them. The circles under your eyes are deep and dark. Your whole expression is one of sadness. You have been crying. 

It isn’t only his heart that aches at the sight of you, it’s his whole being that aches. He swallows harshly and holds the cup tighter in his hand. The urge to drop everything and rush to your side and pull you into his arms is stronger than ever. 

But he can’t. 

You break eye contact and move down the stairs as you tug your jacket tighter around your body. You look around for Eddie, and when you spot him by the stream, you start making your way towards him. Ignoring Steve’s eyes on you. Ignoring Nancy’s worried gaze. 

You breathe in the fresh air. Nerves running high as you approach the metalhead. You clear your throat to announce your presence behind him, but he doesn’t even look up. He is staring at the water, smoking a cigarette.

You stop beside him and appreciate the view before you for a second, and you take another deep breath before you turn to face him. 

“Eddie?”

He only hums in response, not even acknowledging your presence. 

“Can we talk?” You ask, hating how shaky your voice sounds. 

“Sure.” He mumbles, still not looking at you. He brings his cigarette up to his lips, taking another drag. 

You shift on your feet uncomfortably, blinking as you feel your eyes growing hot again. You never thought that you would have to deal with this. You never thought that you would be on the receiving end of his indifference. But he made things very clear last night. 

You wait for him to look up, to at least take a look at you, but he doesn’t. 

“Can you at least look at me?” You know that you are starting to sound desperate, but you can’t help it. You thought you meant to him as much as he meant to you. 

You can see him clenching his jaw, taking a deep breath, and huffing. 

Your shoulders drop, and your face falls further. The pain is hitting you harder than before.

“Okay then… I guess not.” You mumble, looking down at your feet as your vision gets blurry. “You won’t have to deal with me much longer.” 

At that, his head finally snaps up and he looks at you with furrowed eyebrows. 

“What?” He asks, no longer interested in the view before him or his cigarette. 

“You barely look at me, you don’t even talk to me anymore. I can tell that you don’t want me around anymore–”

Finally, he stands up and steps towards you. His eyes are big and confused. 

“What are you trying to say?” He asks, trying to make you meet his eyes as he tilts his chin down. 

You take another deep breath after swallowing the lump in your throat. You look up, still blinking so as to not let the tears fall. 

“I already told Nancy… I’m… after I find my way home, I’m taking my family back to Wyoming.” 

It’s a decision you didn’t want to make. You wanted to go with them. But you are not going to invade Steve’s home. You are not going to add further damage to a friendship you already managed to break. 

Eddie freezes. 

His anger filled eyes widen, flashing with confusion and shock. 

“W-What? What… Why? You said you were coming with us–”

You shake your head and cross your arms over your chest. 

“It’s better for everyone that way. I’m not going to move into a town he is supposed to feel comfortable in,” you point in Steve’s direction before you angrily wipe your fallen tear away. “And I’m not gonna be the reason for you all to fall apart. You were right, Nancy shouldn’t have taken care of me, she should have been there for him.”

Eddie furrows his eyebrows. Guilt flashes in his eyes, and it crashes over him how awful his words must have sounded to you. 

“Sunshine–”

You shake your head, trying to stop further tears from falling. 

“No, Eddie. It’s okay. I appreciate what you all have done for me, but I won’t stand by and watch you lose each other because of me.” You mumble, your voice getting quieter now as you don’t trust it anymore. 

Eddie shakes his head, staring at you, bewildered. 

“I broke up the group enough as it is. I’m not coming with you. Final word.” Before another tear can roll down your cheek, you turn around and walk away from him. Every step becomes harder as you make your way back to the RV. 

“Sunshine?” Nancy murmurs, getting up from her chair already. 

“I’m gonna take a shower.” You mumble, not looking at her or Steve’s way as you make your way up the steps and slam the door behind you. 

Eddie stands back for a moment, letting your words sink in. Guilt and sadness rushing through him, but even more so, it’s anger and irritation. You aren’t the reason for all of this. It’s the lack of communication between you and the brunette who keeps staring at you with sad eyes instead of acting upon his feelings. This could have been between you; this should have been between you. He doesn’t know how it all blew up like this. But the moment sides were picked, it all started falling apart, and now even more so. 

Do you really think that they will be better off without you? 

Do you really think that you mean this little to them that they could just move on from you and act like you were never there? 

Do you really not see how they were falling apart before you? How Steve wasn’t even there with them? 

He’s had enough. 

Eddie takes a deep breath and starts making his way towards his friends. The despair inside of him to fix all of this running deep. He storms his way over to where Steve is sitting. The man looks up at him, with his eyebrows furrowed and his lips parted. 

“You need to snap out of it, right now!” He points a finger at him. 

“What?” 

Nancy looks between them, confused. She draws back a little when the metalhead turns to face her with anger in his eyes. 

“You knew?” 

She shakes her head, tilting her head to the side, “huh?”

Eddie clenches his jaw, sucking in a deep breath, he tries to calm himself down. 

“That she is not coming to California.”

Nancy’s shoulder slumped, and the confusion on her face faded away. She straightens her back and glances at Steve, who looks like he is frozen in place. His hazel eyes are wide, filled with shock and fear. 

“What…?” 

His voice sounds broken enough to even make her feel bad. She looks down and sighs. The feeling of Eddie’s eyes glaring into her skin, overwhelming her a little. 

“She told me earlier… I couldn’t convince her otherwise…” She mumbles softly. 

Steve’s whole body is frozen. He is staring into blank space as his mind is screaming at him to do something. Not having you anymore, not feeling you in your arms anymore, not being with you like he was before, is one thing, but losing you completely is another. He can’t go on without you, not like this. He was so afraid of losing you that he didn’t notice that he was already on the way there. 

Eddie huffs, shaking his head at this whole situation. He brings his hand up and runs it through his hair. He looks down at Steve, feeling a slight anger towards him again. If only he opened his mouth. 

Eddie knows he needs time, but that time is running out now. 

He thought that their conversation on the porch the night after the party was a push enough, but apparently not, because he still hasn’t done anything about it. 

“What are you going to do?” Eddie asks, forcing him to look up. 

Steve knits his eyebrows together, pursing his lips as he shakes his head in question. 

“What–?”

“Are you going to do something about it or are you just gonna let her do that fucking shit?” Eddie asks, being fed up with everything. 

Steve takes a deep breath. Eddie’s anger is contagious because he is starting to feel it too. Eddie is trying to speak with his eyes, to remind him of what they talked about, to remind him how he felt when you left with another man… just for one night. 

“Eddie–” Nancy starts. 

“No! Shut up!” Eddie snaps at her, pointing a finger at her. “This has nothing to do with you!” 

The girl draws back in shock. Her eyes flicker back and forth between Eddie and Steve. The latter getting angrier each passing second now too. 

“Are you going to let her go back to him?” Eddie asks, knowing where to hit him. 

Steve’s eyes darken at his words. The anger now is so clear in his features. He sucks in a sharp breath. The thought of you leaving him, the thought of being the reason for you to find your way back to Aaron makes him sick, but it also makes him snap, finally. 

“Steve…” Nancy mumbles, seeing the expression on his face. “What are you gonna do?”

Steve slams his cup on the ground, and he gets up. He runs his hand through his hair, huffing as he stares at Eddie. 

“Yeah, no…” Steve shakes his head. Everything boils up inside of him, everything and all at once. It explodes. And he is unable to hold it back any longer. “Fuck that shit.” He grumbles and brushes past the metalhead, and he storms inside the RV.

The despair grows inside of him, making the anger so much more intense than before. A mixture of emotions rushing through him, and he can’t even place what exactly he is feeling. 

Just as he slams the door shut behind him, you come out of the bathroom, wearing nothing but a towel around your body. Your skin is still shining from the water, your hair still dripping. The both of you freeze for a moment, staring at one another. 

You notice his expression, it’s hard not to when he stares at you like this, breathing heavily and looking angrier than ever before. 

“What–”

“We need to talk.” 

You bring your hand up to the knot on your towel, holding it. You huff as you shake your head at him, “there’s nothing to talk about, Steve.” You say as though you don’t miss him, as if you don’t feel anger for how all of this went down. 

“Yes, there is!” Steve exclaims, throwing his hands up. “I’m done with this…I can’t take this anymore.” He points between you and himself. “And now I find out that you aren’t coming with us to California!? Were you ever gonna tell me about that, or did you plan to just hop off the RV and pretend like nothing ever happened between us?” 

“Nothing happened. You made that very clear, Steve. I thought there was a chance, but you quickly shut that down again.” You mumble in confusion, not understanding what the look in his eyes is for, but you see the rage flashing in them when they notice the mark on your collarbone. 

“I–”

“You know why I thought we had a chance?” You ask, feeling irritation spark at you now too. You have thought about what happened many times. You have thought of all the reasons for your unusual courage. You have thought about what Eddie had said about you and Steve before. You have thought about what Aaron had said. “You gave me mixed signals and then you chickened out like a little boy.” 

Steve’s eyes widen at your words, having not expected something like this at all. 

“A little boy– excuse me?” 

“You said I’m childish,” you point at yourself, feeling a rush of sudden anger. “But have you looked into a mirror?” 

Steve draws back in shock. This is not how this was supposed to play out. This is not a sight he expected from you, especially not after you stormed inside the RV looking like you were about to break down. 

But your anger is so clear on your face now. Your eyes are burning with it, just like his own. The energy in the room shifts into something stronger. 

“What did you just say?” He asks as he takes a step towards you. 

“You heard me. You’re a fucking boy. You knew how I felt about you, and you still decided to play with my feelings. Friends don’t sleep in each others’ arms, Steve. Friends don’t hold each others’ hands the way we did. Friends don’t do what we did! You knew exactly what you were doing to me!” You finally get it all off your chest. You finally feel your chest decompressing from every single word you wanted to say to him from the moment he didn’t give you a minute’s peace.

Steve swallows harshly. Guilt creeping back into his chest. He now sees what it seemed like to you and it makes him feel like absolute shit but knowing that you found comfort in someone else right after hurts. Someone you are willing to run back to now. 

“I did what I thought was best! For the both of us! And you, on the other hand, you behaved like a fucking brat, who didn’t get what she wanted and threw herself at the first guy she met!” Steve snaps, letting all his anger out as he moves even closer to you. 

You stare at him in disbelief. You take a step forward too. “You seem to have forgotten what I told you at the mansion! I wanna live my life, Steve! I want to experience things! And I told you that I would do it if given the chance–”

“A chance?” Steve scoffs as hurt flashes in his eyes. “Was that what I was to you? A chance? A possibility?” 

“What!?” You almost yell. 

“Was I like Aaron?! Was that the reason why you approached me, Sunshine?”

How could he even think such a thing? How could he even ask such a thing? After everything that you have done for him? 

Steve’s eyes are so angry, but even through that, you can see something more. You can see the hurt and something else…

“If I only looked for a possibility, then I would have gone for someone like Eddie, not you!” 

He scoffs, shaking his head at you, “what is that supposed to mean!?”

“You hated me, Steve. You made sure I felt that, what makes you think that you would have been a choice if that was the only thing I looked for!?” You ask, tilting your head at him in a way that drives him crazy. 

Steve’s shoulders slump, and he averts his eyes for a second, letting them fall back on your collarbone again. The evidence of another man’s lips on your body now etched on your skin. A reminder of what he was supposed to have, what he could have had if he didn’t push you away. 

How could he have let this go so far? 

You are right, you did tell him that if given the chance, you would take it, and he remembers how nauseous those words have made him feel. 

And he feels the nausea still, just worse than before. To know that he let you slip through his fingers. To know that he is the reason why you spent the night with him… His heart aches in a way it never did before, and it makes his eyes burn. 

“I never– I just never thought that you would actually–” his voice breaks, and he has to turn around, feeling choked up. He feels such anger towards himself that he throws his bruised fist into the wall beside the door. 

You stare at the back of his head. Disbelief and shock cross your features as the realization begins to sink in slowly. 

A friend wouldn’t behave that way. A friend wouldn’t feel such anger over you spending a night with someone. A friend wouldn’t feel so… so jealous. You can’t help but feel annoyed now. 

“Don’t tell me you’re going to act all jealous on me now, Steve! How dare you feel jealous after what you did!?” 

Steve freezes. A scoff falls from his lips. 

“Jealous…” He mumbles and turns around to face you again, shocking you once more when he reveals tears in his eyes. “Try feeling like I’m being stabbed in my heart, in my lungs, in my stomach, Sunshine! Try feeling like my entire world was flipped and I’m back in the upside down again, only that I’m not, and it feels even worse than that!” 

You freeze at his words, at his tears, at all of this. You are confused and you are lost, not following along anymore. All that you can see is a hurt man, suffering because of you, because of his feelings for you. Feelings you thought he did not have. 

Your heart starts aching all over again, and your throat closes up on you. 

A tear rolls down his cheek as he takes a step towards you. 

“I didn’t want to be with you because if something were to happen to me, I didn’t want to be the reason for you to hold back on anything. I already lost someone dear to me, I know how it feels… I don’t want you to go through that too. And the thought of having you, of reaching happiness, of having a life with you, only to lose you… I wouldn’t survive that, Sunshine.” He admits, his voice above a whisper now as those tears roll down his cheeks. 

Your eyes are wide, and the anger is replaced with shock now. Your heart is pounding in your chest. Your breath is knocked out of you. 

Steve takes a deep breath, sniffling as he takes the final step towards you, cornering you against the wall behind you. 

“But fuck… Seeing you with him filled me with as much pain and despair as if you had just died.” 

Your whole face falls and pales at his confession. Your heart drops to your stomach as your eyes well up with tears. The guilt that you have felt before now is growing bigger and bigger, burning you in ways you have never felt before. 

He never rejected you because he didn’t reciprocate your feelings. He never led you on. He never gave mixed signals. He never– Oh god. You stare at him, at his suffering eyes, at the tears that you have caused. 

And Steve can see it. He can see the guilt and the regret in your eyes. He can see the disappointment that you feel for yourself now. 

Your bottom lip trembles as you open your mouth to speak. 

“I’m… I’m–”

Steve shakes his head as he looks into your glassy eyes. 

“Don’t you dare say sorry. Don’t. It– As much as I fucking hate it, there’s no one to blame but me. Don’t say sorry for trying to live your life.”

You sniffle as the anger fades away completely. You can’t even bring yourself to look into his eyes anymore. You tilt your chin down, casting your eyes on the ground. 

“Steve… What is… What is the point in telling me all this now?” You whisper, not trusting your voice anymore. 

Steve had made his decision. He did the night on the porch after he talked to Eddie. He just didn’t find the courage, not until now. Not until he heard her voice in his head. 

‘Don’t be a dingus.’ 

Steve reaches his hands out to you, wrapping them around your wrists, making you look back up at him. He can see the troubled emotions in your teary eyes. 

“Let me go, Steve.” You whisper shakily as you try to pull away, but he doesn’t let you; if anything, it makes him hold you tighter. He takes another step forward, pushing you up against the wall, pressing himself against you. 

He is breathing heavily, and his heart is pounding in his chest, threatening to burst through his skin. His eyes flicker between your eyes and your lips. 

“I don’t think so.” He shakes his head. He will never let go again, he will never let you slip through his fingers again, he will never let you walk away again. 

You feel his tender yet tight hold on your wrists, his skin against your own after so long. You can feel his body against yours. You can feel his breath on your skin. You can feel everything, everything you have longed for. 

“Steve–” 

“I’m never letting you go again, Sunshine.” Steve whispers as he breaks all the promises he had made to himself and smashes his lips against yours, taking your breath away completely. He cradles your cheeks and kisses you in a way no one ever did before. Passionately. Roughly. Desperately. 

It takes you a moment to move, to reciprocate. You are too surprised, too shocked by what is happening. Your heart is pounding in your chest so strongly, you fear that it might explode. 

Steve is kissing you. 

Steve is kissing you like he’s been craving it for god knows how long. 

And the kiss tastes of tears – sorrowful yet aggressive. His lips are soft against your own, his touch even softer. And when it finally really sinks in, you close your eyes and lean into him. You throw your arms around his neck and press yourself against him. Standing on your tippy toes isn’t enough, you place your toes on his boots to be even closer to him. You let go of everything and kiss him back just as desperately. 

His whimper vibrates against your lips, sending shivers down your spine and lust rushing to your core. 

His heart nearly combusts as he finally feels you. He can feel the way your knees buckle when he deepens the kiss without wasting a second, and it only leads him to hold you tighter. He wraps one arm around your waist, securing you against him. 

His large palm covers your entire cheek. His nose bumps into yours as his lips continue to move at a fast pace. He swipes his tongue along your bottom lip, needing to feel you more, needing to deepen the kiss further and further. Your lips are so soft, so perfect against his own. How did he wait for so long? How could he waste so much time? Kissing you feels like everything he imagined and more. 

And kissing him feels like everything you have thought it would. It makes you weak in the knees. It makes you ache for more. It makes you crave him more and more and more. You cup his face, holding him with both hands. Your heart flutters when he moans and holds you tighter. 

Even as you both grow breathless, you refuse to break the kiss you both have craved for so long, not wanting the moment to end even when you both know that this is just the beginning of it all. 

Only when you feel like you are about to pass out from the lack of air do you pull away. You open your eyes at the same time. No words need to be said. Your eyes speak enough words. 

“I’m done being stupid.” Steve whispers as he looks at you through hooded eyes. He leans down and pecks your lips. “I want to live.” Kiss. “I’m so fucking scared but I want to live; with you.” Kiss. “I’m done pretending you don’t drive me crazy.” Kiss. “I want you so bad, god, you have no idea what you do to me, Sunshine.” 

You whimper at his action, at all the kisses, at all his words. The hope that once bloomed inside of you, rising up from the dead. Your eyes are wide, glinting with a happiness he hasn’t seen in so long. 

“Show me.” You whisper, pleading with your eyes. “Please.” 

He never planned for this to happen, let alone like this. But who is he to deny you any longer? 

He wastes no second to connect his lips to yours again, and this time you don’t hesitate to kiss back right away, making him weak in the knees as well. His heart soars in his chest, beating so strongly out of happiness – just like yours does. 

You pull him back and away from the spot you are still standing on and Steve doesn’t hesitate to back you up and towards the back of the RV, not breaking the kiss once, not even as he rips his jacket off and you help him out of it, pushing it down his arms and throwing it on the ground. 

He picks you up, his arms around your body, and your legs dangle a bit from the ground, so he doesn’t step on your toes while walking towards the bed, making you whimper into his mouth. He can’t help but smile into the kiss at the sound. 

You couldn’t believe that you were finally kissing him, and what this night led to. You felt the edge of the bed at your calves and then he lowered the both of you down, your back hitting the bed. Your arms were wrapped around his shoulders, tightly, the kiss never ending. If you could stay like this forever, you would. You definitely would. 

Steve was trying not to lose his mind as his tongue danced with yours. As your legs spread so he could fit in between. This only happened in his very rare nice dreams. Dreams he had when he only held you close to him. When you two slept with each other. He should savor the first time between the two of you a little more, but his feelings were clawing at his chest, begging to come out. 

And you wanted him. You told him to show you, and that he will. He was done denying you. He was done being a fucking idiot. He was done being a walking corpse. He wanted to live, and his only oxygen was you. He loves Eddie, Nancy, the teens… But somehow, Steve knows that you are his reason for living now. As horrible as it sounds, as unfair as it is, but you had carved your way into his soul so easily. Terrifyingly easy.

His hips rubbed into yours, and you could feel him completely because you were naked underneath that towel. You should be feeling shame, embarrassment, but all you can feel now is how happy you are. How much you want this. How much you need him. How much you need to show him how you feel. 

He moaned into your mouth, and you never thought you would hear that in your life, and much less because you were the reason for this sound. It’s been a long while for Steve, and rubbing his growing bulge against your naked center, was not doing good things for his brain chemistry… nor his dignity.

But it was a point of no return now. He pulled away from your lips, his breath hitting your lips heavily, his eyes finding yours for a split second. His mouth found your cheek, then your jaw, then he started going down. You gasped when you felt him kiss your pulse point, then nip at it. Shivers ran down your entire spine as your nails dug into his scalp.

Steve was in heaven with the taste of your skin on his tongue. Finally. You were like a forbidden fruit. You were that chocolate you delight yourself on a cheat day. You tasted divine. You were perfect, and he always knew you would be, but now he had the proof of it. 

“Steve–” You breathed out, and he hummed with delight as his hips rutted into yours again, the desperation growing at each second.

“Perfect… So fucking perfect, Sunshine…” He mumbled into your skin as he moved to the other side of the neck. His mind flickered with the memory of what’s on your collarbone, so he guided his mouth towards it, and your back arched a bit at the feeling on your sensitive skin.

You gasped when you felt his mouth engulf the mark someone else had left on your skin. Steve groaned, his hands digging onto your waist, fingers printing on your skin through the damp towel. He was going to rebrand you. He didn’t want traces of the other man on you. He had to cover them. Gladly, this was the only mark he could see that needed to be erased.

He made it messy, bigger, red with purple hues all around it. He pulled away to admire his work, and his entire body shook when he saw you underneath him. Your wet hair was all over the mattress, your chest moving up and down, your eyes half lidded, and your lips all swollen thanks to his kisses. 

And his mark. Now big. Vibrant. 

His jaw clenched, moving downwards again to take your lips with his only for a peck, making you whine when you felt him pull away. He chuckled slightly, his lips moving to nip at your jaw, to then breathe into your ear, his hips now moving in circles against you, and you could only gasp and moan at the feeling of his bulge rubbing against your clit.

“I’m so mad at myself–” And you felt him bite onto your earlobe, making you sigh. “So fucking mad… I wanted to be your first. I really wanted to…” He sighed against your ear and then moved down to kiss underneath it. “But I can work with being your last, so please– Please, Sunshine–”

“Steve–” You breathe out, your nails digging into his shoulder blades, feeling him grow bigger in his pants. He didn’t hear you, or that’s what you thought at least, because you felt him kiss your pulse point again, making a moan escape your lips. “Steve–”

He finally realized you were calling out to him, so he pulled away from you, breathing heavily. His eyes looked down at you, and you could see the fire inside his hazel orbs. How much desperation, hunger, and emotions swerved inside. 

“You don’t– Not now–?” You shushed him, shaking your head at him, your eyes finding his lips, you were already missing. 

“You… can still be my first.”

And Steve stopped breathing. What did you just say? 

“What?” The question came out more cracked than he anticipated, but he couldn’t help it. He really couldn’t. Your eyes were looking up at him, a guilty frown appearing on your eyebrows as you looked away, gulping down your nervousness.

“I– I couldn’t…” And fuck, you didn’t want to cry. You really didn’t, but there were so many feelings coursing through you that you could barely begin to describe each one. Your voice cracked a bit as you kept talking. “I kept– I kept thinking about you… And I just couldn’t… I fucking couldn’t…”

And Steve could sense the hidden anger behind your tone. Not directed at him, but probably at yourself. He had rejected you, and an opportunity presented to you, one you wanted to experience before you passed, or before something happened, and you could not fulfill it because… of him. 

How could he have been so fucking stupid? He really didn’t deserve your forgiveness. He didn’t deserve you. You thought of him in times when the only person you should care about is yourself. Steve didn’t deserve you… But even with that knowledge, Steve wasn’t going to ever let you go. He was going to fight to be the man you deserved. Not a boy. A man. 

And he felt so selfish for feeling happy about this outcome. He felt so evil for feeling relief out of you not having your first time with that man. He felt so greedy for feeling happy that now, he was the one to experience you first. Hoping he would be the last as well. That you would know of no other body but his.

But then it dawned on him just how rough he was being. How straightforward he was. Fuck, this should be special, and he was acting like an animal. He wanted to wreck you just seconds ago, ruin you for eternity, but now, all he wanted was to make this special. Make your first time be a nice one, almost painless. 

So he drew his hips back, and your head snapped towards him again, desperate eyes following, which caught him off guard. Your arms came to wrap around his shoulders again, your head shaking from side to side. He gulped, his hips stuttering with the need to press down again, but fuck– He wanted to be a gentleman. 

“Sunshine–”

“Steve, baby, please–” His brain chemistry completely malfunctioned at the nickname. His hips came crashing down onto you, instantly, as if he were magnetized. A moan escaped your lips before you spoke again. “I want it. I want you. Please…” 

“Are you sure?” He had to ask and hear that this was fine from your part. His self control was wavering the more he thought of what was about to happen, trying to remember where were the condoms Eddie had jokingly brought into the fucking RV.

You gave him a nod, his hair falling over his face as he stared down at you. The both of you were breathing heavily, looking down at each other, eyes filled with need, with want, with desperation. He gulped as his head reeled with anticipation, his eyes falling to the knot that secured the towel to your chest. 

His eyes found yours again, and you gulped, fingers kneading into his scalp softly. You gave him a slow nod again, wanting him to continue. You needed him to continue. You’ve been craving this for too long. You’ve been craving someone like him for too long. 

He pecked you once, soft, long, and your belly turned with the amount of butterflies that just burst inside. When he pulled away, his hand moved towards the knot, slowly, fingers grazing over the fabric. He would see you bare. He would be able to drink you in, completely, and his heart could barely stand it.

“Stevie…” And when you whisper his name sweetly, it does it. His fingers hook inside, and he is pulling–

The side door of the RV bursts open, fierce stomps rushing in as well as jagged breaths from your other two friends, who you have forgotten completely about for the past minutes. Or hours. It felt like hours. Kissing Steve felt endless, if you had a say. Steve hissed when he pressed himself completely on you so your dignity would not be displayed to the people who had just entered.

“SORRY, LOVEBIRDS, WE GOTTA GO!!!” Eddie yelled once, not before turning his head to see the display of Steve on top of you on the bed. He wanted to yell in victory, but the slam of the RV’s door closing snapped him away, and he sprang into action again, running to the driver’s seat.

Nancy was breathing heavily, her eyes widening at the scene at the back of the RV, making her squeal and clench her eyes tightly as she rushed towards the folding screen that separated the bedroom from the rest of the RV, blindly waving her hands around to try to give you guys privacy. Steve was frowning, his head looking over his shoulder in complete and utter confusion as Nancy finally closed the blinds.

“What is going on!?” He yelled, and you were still in another dimension, trying to gather yourself again to understand the situation. You could hear Nancy yelling, and then a slam at the top of your head, at the top of the RV. Then another. Your fear creeped in as Steve snapped his head to look up, then the engines came to life.

“EDDIE TOUCHED SOMETHING HE SHOULDN’T HAVE!” Nancy yelled, and you could feel your heart hammering in your chest at the mix of emotions that threatened to send you into cardiac arrest. 

“How was I supposed to know THESE FUCKERS CAN REPRODUCE!? I DIDN’T KNOW IT WAS A NEST!” At that, Steve grew a bit more alarmed, but before he could ask, he was jerked into the bed with you, further up, thanks to the sudden speed Eddie started driving in. 

“Shit!” Steve’s arms held onto you as a few slams could be heard outside the RV, and when he looked out the window, he saw the demobats flying next to their motorhome. 

“If only YOU WEREN’T BEING AN ASSHOLE TO ME, AND ACTUALLY LISTENED, THIS WOULDN’T HAVE HAPPENED!” Nancy was still yelling, and your arms were wrapped tightly around Steve as the RV suddenly swerved, turning left, and you squealed when you two started rolling to the right.

“Jesus CHRIST!” You yelled as Steve used his foot to prevent you from slamming into the wall behind you, his arms still around your body, your face tucked into his chest. The slams against the RV became less, and then, there was another swerve to the right, sending you both rolling towards the left.

“MUNSON!” Steve yelled as his back collided with the wall, making a grunt escape him. He was trying to hold you close so that your towel would also not fall from your body. The RV drove fast, steady, rocking a bit, and then he felt Eddie slowing down. He let out a sigh, looking around the ceiling, seeing some dents on the corners from the hits of the monsters, but nothing too big. 

“OKAY, I THINK WE’RE CLEAR!” You heard Eddie yell, and you let out a sigh of relief at the same time Steve did. 

“You okay, Sunshine?” Your heart never stopped beating like crazy, first from happiness, then adrenaline and fear, and now from happiness again. Steve is in your arms, and you are in his. You gulped, nodding, looking up at him.

“Y-Yeah… I– What the fuck happened?” Steve groaned as he glared at the closed blinds, before looking down at you again. He really didn’t want to let go of you, but he didn’t want you to catch a cold. He kissed your forehead, making the both of you sit up again.

“I’ll find out. Meanwhile, you get dressed.” Your eyes scanned his features, and you couldn’t help yourself when you raised your hand up, moving his hair away from his eyes, and he felt the air being sucked away from his lungs at your gesture. He took your lips with his in a gentle kiss, short, pulling away when the two of you heard grunting on the other side.

“Don’t let them kill each other…” You softly spoke, and he huffed, shaking his head. He gave you one more kiss on your cheek before standing up, and moving the folding screen so he could walk out. Nancy and Eddie shut their mouths when Steve closed the screen again, a glare in his features as he walked towards the front. 

Neither Eddie nor Nancy was looking at him. They looked guilty and nervous. From what Steve gathered, it was Eddie who started it, so his hand found his friend’s shoulder, feeling him stiffen underneath him as the grip on the steering wheel tightened.

“Munson.” Eddie gulped, clearing his throat, knowing he fucked the most amazing opportunity up for his best friend.

“I– Uh… Well, what happened was, Harrington–” But Nancy cut him off completely.

“He was being an ass, and I told him he should not touch the glowing thing in the cave–”

“A cave, Mrs. Wheeler, here, walked in first, by the way–”

“I didn’t put a gun to your head to follow me in!” She yelled back, to which Eddie glared at the road, scoffing.

“Oh, so you want me to just watch my best friend enter a dark cave, all by herself!?” He spat back, and Nancy fake laughed, shaking her head.

“So, now I’m your best friend!? That’s so fucking rich–!” 

“HEY, HEY, HEY!” Steve finally yelled, waving his hands around, trying to stop them from talking, and Nancy looked at him, while Eddie closed his mouth. “So, what the fuck happened?”

“... I– I didn’t know it was an egg…” Eddie finally confessed, and he gulped as he continued, “It was just so shiny! And it looked like a pimple! I just–”

“Don’t tell me you popped it like a pimple, or I swear to god–” Steve closed his eyes as he inhaled deeply, but Eddie remained silent. Nancy was quiet for a few seconds, knowing Steve was growing angrier, and even when she didn’t want to defend Eddie… She couldn’t help herself.

“On our defense… It’s the first time we've found a nest that belonged to them…” At her words, Steve finally sighed, letting the air out. Still– His hand came flying to the back of Eddie’s head, making him headbang once, and then he pinched Nancy’s nose, making her squeal and swat him away. 

“This is what you get for being stupid. Both of you.” Steve wasn’t going to say it out loud, but he also wanted to strike them for interrupting him. He felt eyes on him, and he saw Eddie looking at him through the rear-view mirror. “What?”

Eddie started wiggling his eyebrows at him, which only made Steve blush, and cross his arms over his chest, rolling his eyes. He suddenly remembered, he was supposed to take over with Eddie, and that meant he wouldn’t be able to be with you. He felt his heart quickening its pace at the prospect of leaving your side again, but, Nancy… She would be awake for 24 hours straight if he changed his spot with hers.

“Nance, you… You should uh… Go to bed.” Steve started, trying not to wince from the pain of those words. Nancy scoffed, shaking her head.

“As if it weren’t obvious enough, we are changing places.” Eddie’s eyes widened slightly, worry flashing over them. Steve stuttered a bit, shaking his head.

“No, that’s– You need to sleep–” 

“You need to sleep.” It wasn’t an insult or a bad joke. Nancy looked at him with serious eyes, her lips pressed together, as if stern. “So, we are changing places.”

“... She is right, Steve.” Eddie commented, his eyes not leaving the road as he drove. Steve’s jaw clenched with conflict, about to try to talk Nancy out of it, but then she continued, straightening up again on her seat, looking out the window.

“Plus, it gives me private time to talk a bit with this asshole here, who is also my best friend… so…” Eddie huffed a laugh, but didn’t complain. Steve looked back and forth on them, knowing they did in fact need to talk, but Nancy’s health also mattered.

“I know more than anyone what lack of sleep can cause–”

“It’s just 24 hours, Steve… I’ll be fine.” Nancy gave her final word of it, and Steve knew it. He sighed, the RV rocking slowly now as Eddie kept his eyes on the road. He then talked, interrupting the silence between the three of them.

“Big boy, they’re in the cupboard below the sink, by the way.”

“Huh?” Steve asked, completely confused, and Eddie smirked, looking over his shoulder as Steve leaned in, the scene all too familiar.

“Condoms.” Steve blushed a deep red, smacking the back of Eddie’s head again, eliciting a pained groan from the metal head. Nancy tried to hide a giggle, putting her palm over her mouth. 

For a split second, everything was normal again.

“Steve?” Your voice snapped him out of his thoughts, his heart stopping for a second before he turned around to see you peeking out from the folding screen. He could feel his body warming up again, knowing he would hold you tonight, sleep with you, just sleep with you, was enough to make him believe he was the luckiest man in the world.

He gave Nancy one last glance, and she gave Steve a nod and a soft smile. The first smile after days. He felt the corner of his lips tug, turning to finally walk back to you. He closed the door behind him, and you were already tucked in bed, sitting, waiting for him. 

Your eyes followed him when he opened a drawer from underneath the bed, taking out his sleep shirt and sweatpants. You licked your lips in anticipation, wondering if he would change in front of you or not. Should you cover your eyes? Maybe? You’ve seen him shirtless, sure–

The moment he took his shirt off, embarrassment filled every inch of your body. You hid your face in your bent knees, against the comforter. You felt your stomach doing somersaults, and you could feel a tornado inside of it as well. Privacy. You are giving him privacy.

And Steve was planning on going to change to the bathroom, but since you were hiding yourself already, which he thought was cute, there was no harm in changing here. You are so shy now. He noticed it. Your voice when calling out to him was small, doubtful. He took his pants off, his eyes never leaving your form to check if you were peeking or not, and he put his sweatpants on, followed by his shirt. 

“You can uncover your eyes, Sunshine.” He chuckled when you looked up at him, and he could see just how flushed you must be. He crawled into the bed, sitting next to you. “You already saw me in my underwear, and I saw you, remember? No need to be embarrassed…”

You whimpered at the memory, looking away from him as you felt your cheeks burn a thousand degrees. You couldn’t help but feel embarrassed, bashful, too nervous to even look at him, despite what almost happened between you two.

“Those were– very different circumstances…” Steve hummed a bit, now realizing what you meant. He had to take it a bit slow, at least until you were relaxed around him. He leaned towards you, pressing a kiss at the top of your head that made your heart jump into your throat. Your eyes found his, and after so long, after so many weeks, he finally smiled at you.

“Hi, baby.” 

Those words coming out of him made your entire body melt. Your fingertips grew itchy, with the need to touch, and your lips became dry. It was more than just the nickname. It was the smile you had been missing for so long. The smile that had disappeared from his features, was now back, and it appeared when he looked at you. 

Your eyes filled with tears, yet you gave him a soft smile as well, your nose bumping his.

“Hi, Stevie…” 

☀︎

FINALLY. HUH?

taglist: @prettyboyeddiemunson @pretentious-blonde @thecreelhouse @tvserie-s-world @thesickestqrmydcll @crispystarfishhottub @sophal22 @definitionwanderlust @talkativecarnation @mysticalwoolenfroglegs @ariesandwolves @mortqlprojections @sattlersquarry @sherrylyn0628 @purpleeyeswithgoldensparkles @micheledawn1975 @keepingitlokiii @littleromanoff2005 @sunshine-mrk @xxladymjxx @bananasplits-world @myharrington @btskzfav@hawkeyeharrington

[andvys]

The edges of your soul (I haven't seen yet) ⭐︎ chapter sixteen

⭐︎ One day I am gonna grow wings...

Warnings: hurt/no comfort, angst, jealousy, mentions of self harm, mentions of depression, mentions of unreciprocated feelings, mentions of death, Steve's pov! a little Eddie and Steve bromance cause lego head needs a friend

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Summary: As the distance and the space between you and Steve grows bigger and colder, he begins to fall back into the pit you pulled him out of, leading him to feel nothing but despair, leading him to realize something he's been afraid of.

Word count: 9.8k

Author's note: attention attention please !! as you all know this story is a collab with my dearest @hellfire--cult , this would have not been as great without her. as I mentioned before, she works on all the chapters with me, we come up with all the ideas together, we write together but this chapter especially -- I left this one for her, it's over 9k words and of them are written by her so give her the love she deserves ♡ also y'all should listen to let down by radiohead while reading this. this song is Steve's song (I am so projecting)

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The house was warm, that was the first thing he noticed when he got out of bed and out of the blankets. 

This meant he slept for a long time. The fireplace must have been lit for a while now, because he didn’t believe it was cold outside. He could see the snow and some people cleaning it out from the small roads, and he wondered how long he had been asleep. For how long had he been lying in that bed without your warmth again.

Steve could feel his heart bursting, and he felt so conflicted. Thanks to his nightmare, he knew this was the right decision, yet the pain that comes with it is just breaking him slowly. He cannot control it. He cannot stop it. He wishes it had been different, and he knew that he hurt you… But that pain would just save you both from worse. 

He put on his sweater, some sweatpants, and his slippers, taking a deep breath in before grabbing the doorknob. He couldn’t hear Nancy’s voice, nor Eddie’s jokes, anywhere around the house, but there was someone. He could hear noises coming from the living room, some clanking, some moving around. He knew it was you. 

And he knew he had to face you. This was the best sleep he has gotten in a long while, and he knows it is the same with you. He needed to talk to you. He needed to at least go back to how you two were, and he knows it’s selfish. He knows it. But–

He sighed, walking out of the room to finally head towards the living room. He first saw the back of your head, putting on your boots to probably head out. His breath was quickening by the second, and he could feel his heart in his throat, almost making him choke. He gulped, or at least he tried, finally talking.

“Where’s Eddie and Nance?” 

He saw how you stiffened for a second, your movements stopping as you tied up your boots, only to resume after recovering yourself.

“Nance is out with Eddie. She took him to the coffee shop.” He felt himself tense up when he saw you tightening up your shoelaces one last time, and his panic set in.

“And where are you going?” 

You were still giving him your back, not wanting to face him, and he was growing desperate. He felt his mouth go dry, his fingertips started to itch, and he had to make you talk to him. He needed it.

“Sunshine, we– we need to talk…” His voice was tired. It was raspy, deep, just– it sounded like the voice of someone who was slowly giving up. You rose to your feet, still not turning to face him.

“What part of I need space do you not get, Steve?” Your voice sounded cold, fed up with him, and he felt his stomach turn. He didn’t like that. Was that how he sounded to you? Was that how he treated you before?

“Trust me, I get it, but I can’t help but feel like we haven’t talked it all through–” And with those words of his, you finally turned. You looked confused, angry, your eyebrows meeting in the middle as if Steve had just said the most insane thing in the world.

“I think you were clear enough.” And he took a step back as if he had been slapped, but he wasn’t going to back down. He had to try to keep you with him, because he felt like– Like he was going insane.

"We need each other. You should know that by now! I-- I don't want you to stop talking to me... I can barely stand it." He confessed, and you were still looking at him with emotions he couldn’t read anymore because all he could see was his own desperation. His own needs.

"... We– We finally slept after not being able to... for a while... Look-- I-- I don't know why but I can only sleep okay with you, and you are okay when you sleep with me... So we can't--" 

And without his knowledge, the filtering in his mouth fucked him over again, and he saw the hurt crossing your features. He saw the twitch, the anger turning into a sad one, and he felt his heart sink to the floor.

He didn’t know? He didn’t know why? Of course he did. He did. He absolutely did, and he lied again.  

"That's where we differ and where you hurt me again." And he just stood there, stunned as he looked at how your eyes didn’t want to meet his again. How your body untensed and slouched at his words. 

"I--" 

"I know why I can sleep okay with you. I made it clear. I made it known... Maybe you just don’t want to admit it, or see that you can only sleep okay with me because–” And he could see how you stopped talking, looking down at the floor as if you were about to just… crumble down.

“Sunshine–”

“You see Robin in me.” 

Steve Harrington has never wanted to scream louder in his life. He never wanted to scream and deny something so much to defend his own word. That was not the case. That was not what he thought. That is not the reason why he is pushing you away. The reason why he is hiding his feelings. That is not it, far from it. 

"No, no, that's-- That's not it. That's not it at all--"

"Then why? Why do you act like this with me if it isn't because of the same feelings I have for you? Why do you– Why are you acting like this?"

His mouth opened to give you a response, but then, his eyes flickered to the scar on your face. His body froze up, his tongue stopped working, and his throat went dry. Your eyes looked up to look for his one last time, and Steve was just standing there– And he didn’t deny it, even if he wanted to at the top of his lungs. 

He started recovering a little too late, when he heard your breathing become even more elaborate than before and you started grabbing your stuff as quickly as possible, messily so. He tried gulping, moistening his throat again to be able to speak, but– But what could he say? What could he possibly say not to make you even more confused? What can he say that won’t give away his true feelings for you? 

He didn’t know how to save it. How to save the relationship. How to keep you. He didn’t know anymore, even when he desperately wanted to. But he would be selfish and evil if he did that, wouldn’t he? He would keep making you feel… lost.

“I won’t be a replacement, Steve…” 

He saw you leave something on the coffee table, and those were your last words before leaving, and his back finally touched the doorway of the living room. He felt his eyes burn as he looked at the ceiling, wondering if everything he was doing was right at all. Was he selfish for being scared? Was he an idiot for caring for you? 

He walked towards the coffee table, his eyes filling up with tears as he saw Robin’s hair tie lying on the surface of it now. It was not it. That was not it. You were not a replacement at all, but that’s all you thought you were to him. If he denied it, he would hurt you. If he didn’t, he would hurt you. Either way he looked at it from, he ends up hurting you.

Time. You need time. Maybe without him pestering you, you could learn to see him as a friend again, even when he didn’t want that at all, but it was better than nothing. He could give you that space, try not to cross paths with you, or at least the minimum amount possible.

He had lived without you for an entire year, and he had survived.

He could try that again.

—--------------------------------------

Two days passed. 

You two haven’t even crossed paths for dinner. 

He ate in his room, or didn’t eat at all, and Eddie had started becoming more and more worried. His foot got better, and he could walk for short periods of time with no wheelchair or crutches, but it was still hard to do so. 

He stopped making jokes about you and Aaron. He stopped them completely, knowing his best friend was hurting through all of it, yet Steve didn’t even try to talk to him. In fact, neither he nor Nancy saw much of Steve. He was gone at the very early morning, and he came back very late. 

Eddie knew Steve wasn’t sleeping either, just as much as he knew that you too were not. He has heard you walking in the hallway, stopping for a few seconds before heading back to your room. He could only assume you stood at Steve’s door, maybe wondering if whether to knock or not, and deciding against it in the end. 

Nancy was worried too, but Eddie noticed his best friend was letting go a bit, enjoying life once again. It was nice seeing her with a smile, and he knew she was trying to make you enjoy it too, even if your face didn’t match hers. 

But there was one thing he noticed about Nancy, and that was that she was being… mean towards Steve. He knew Nance was protecting you, but there was no need to make remarks about the possibility of Aaron making a move on you when Steve was in earshot. 

To his surprise, on the third night, while he was having a late snack, Steve walked in, shaking his jacket off from the snow and hanging it on the coat rack. He wanted to make small talk, try to make Steve look alive, at least. 

“H–Hey, b–bro!” He cringed to himself because– Since when has Eddie ever said the word bro? Steve noticed, frowning in confusion at him.

“... Hey?” Now, Eddie called Steve out with no other plan than to greet his friend. He was nervous about how to approach Steve now without scaring him off, so he raised the hand that was holding an apple, showing it to him.

“An apple?” Eddie tried, and Steve shook his head. Eddie saw the tiredness around the eyes, and the overall pain itched in his features.

“No, I’m good.” He saw Steve heading to his room, so he tried again, panicking a little bit at the possibility of losing his chance of talking to Steve.

“YOU! Um– What have you been doing?” The brown haired man stopped for a second and then looked at Eddie.

“I help in the kitchen and in organizing the supply closet. Doing my share for the free food and stay.” He said monotonously. Eddie gave a nervous nod, gulping as he limped towards his friend.

“Cool– Cool…” It was silent then between the two of them, and while Eddie was a ball of nerves, Steve was just staring at him as if he were crazy. “I– I talked to Tommy a bit today! Did– Did you know they taught the kids how to shoot guns!?” 

At his words, Steve frowned, a flicker of amusement, anger, and confusion crossing his features. 

“They gave them guns?” 

“Well, they’re not kids anymore, Steve.” Eddie reminded his friend, and Steve sighed, nodding. Finally, a small tug on his lips appeared, a huff.

“Let me guess, Max outdid them all?” Eddie’s eyes flickered with amusement, nodding and crossing his arms as he felt his chest warm up at hearing Steve’s voice.

“Of course! But Tommy tried to gift her a gun and–”

“Let me guess, her brother wasn’t too keen on that.” Eddie was smiling as Steve engaged in the conversation, and he nodded enthusiastically. Maybe it wasn’t all lost. Maybe Steve did need time as well as you did, and–

“Eddie, have you–” 

And Eddie’s eyes clenched tightly at the sound of your boys. He saw how Steve’s eyes found yours, the slight bit of happiness in his features disappearing, leaving behind an emotionless mask. 

You, on the other hand, Eddie noticed how you wanted to say something, yet you held back. How your eyes were looking for Steve’s, only for the male to look away before muttering a goodbye and leaving for his room. Eddie sighed, looking down at the floor, shaking his head. He didn’t know how to handle the situation, because just like Steve–

“Sunshine–”

“Never mind.” And you were gone.

You didn’t want to talk at all. 

-

You would all be leaving the community the next day.

You felt your heart ache from it, but you wanted to keep going. You needed to find your family, and you won’t be able to do it if you keep staying here, despite finally feeling safe in a secluded place. 

Aaron, Tommy, and Paxton had prepared a small party for your departure. They barely had any celebrations, so this sounded like the perfect excuse for one, as they called it. You had told them with Nancy that there was no need for that, that they had done enough, but it gave them a bit of an excuse to get drunk and have fun.

So now, you were in the living room, sitting on the couch with Nancy, trying to decide what you two were going to wear for the night. Eddie was sipping on his coffee, sitting at the table, and looking down at the RV’s inventory. Nancy had pointed out that Eddie had grown a bit distant with her, and she didn’t know why. You noticed as well, but your mind was preoccupied with… someone else.

Someone you hadn’t seen in a whole day, and it was making your insides turn wildly. You have been out with Nancy, Aaron, and Tommy for most of the week, and when you came back to your house, Eddie would greet you, but Steve had not yet returned home. 

You had asked for time. You had asked for space. He is giving that to you, and yet it feels wrong. It feels so fucking wrong and you are angry that it does. Because it was not fair. It was not fair that your heart was still clinging to him like a vice, and you couldn’t stop it. No matter what had happened days ago. No matter that he didn’t deny that you were Robin’s replacement. Your heart was betraying you.

And said man, walked into the kitchen, all dressed up to go out again in the day, and your body froze at seeing his face. It was– It was angry. All of his facial muscles were tense as he headed towards the sink to grab a glass of water. You swallowed the lump in your throat, feeling your stomach turning inside out because– It almost looked like–

“So… Dress? Or… Skirt?” Nancy asked, and you blinked a few times, finally zoning back into the conversation. You licked your lips and nodded, trying to focus on the topic once again.

“Um, pants? It’s cold?” You answered, and Nancy rolled her eyes, shaking her head.

“It’s a party! We should all dress up since we never get to do it!” Nancy exclaims, nudging your shoulder. “Who knows when we’ll get that chance again!” 

She is right. You know she is. You never get the chance to do these kinds of things anymore. It would be nice to just let loose and enjoy yourself, go all out. 

“Plus, we have a nice variety here!” 

You nod, though your eyes keep moving back to him. Your heart skips in your chest every few seconds, not in affection but in anxiety. His expression kept growing angrier and angrier. 

“Alright, uh…” You pause and furrow your eyebrows, trying your best to just focus, but it’s nearly impossible when he is here. “Skirt… You should wear a skirt, I think it would look cute.”

“Cute?” Nancy scoffs, shaking her head. “I’m trying to look hot! Don’t think that Tommy wants a cute girl.”

Finally, you are able to look away from him and back at her. An amused flicker in your eyes and a teasing smile resting on your face now. You raise your eyebrows at her. 

“Aw, Nancy!”

“Don’t.” She murmurs, biting back her smile. “Why don’t we talk about you? I’m sure Aaron would love–”

“Can you both just shut up!?” 

You and Nancy freeze at his words. Her blue eyes widen as she turns towards him, looking a little taken aback. His features are deeply painted in anger. His hazel eyes are filled with nothing but anger, no other emotions living in them at this moment. A frown is etched into his features. The tone in his voice was full of malice. She hasn’t seen that side of him since… since Hawkins. 

Even Eddie is surprised as he just looks up from the journal, freezing completely at the sudden outburst.

“What’s wrong with you!?” Nancy grumbles at him, not hesitating to ask. 

Steve’s eyes are settled on you, not on her. They are burning. 

“What’s wrong with me?” He scoffs as a humorless laugh falls from his lips. “You are both acting like we aren’t in the middle of the end of the world. Fucking christ–”

“Steve, it’s good to let go–” Eddie tries, only to be ignored by the brunette. 

You are all a little shocked and surprised to see the Steve from a few months ago once again coming forth. 

“Right, because living in a fantasy and high school puppy love got us here.” Steve scoffs, shaking his head as he sends a glare towards Nancy. He wants to say more, he wants it to hurt because he can’t believe what he is hearing. Not too long ago, she opened up and confessed her love for his best friend, only to be moving on already? 

You look between them, and anger sparks inside of you when you see the way Nancy’s shoulders slump and her face falls with guilt. She looks down, avoiding his eyes now. 

Steve huffs and slams his glass on the counter. He brushes past Eddie, almost knocking his shoulder in the process. He grabs his jacket and storms out of the house, slamming the door shut behind him. 

He closes his eyes for a moment and breathes in the fresh air, though it does little to calm him down. All he feels is pure rage. He can’t even think straight anymore; it’s like his mind is in a haze, and he is stuck in a state of anger because this is all he’s been feeling the past couple of days. 

The door opens behind him, and he opens his eyes, already huffing because he knows it’s Eddie who is gonna try to talk some sense into him. 

But the moment he smells the sweet scent of your body wash, he tenses up. 

“What the fuck is your problem?” Your voice is sharp and angry, just like his own was. 

Steve turns around to face you. You are looking up at him, jaw clenched and eyes full of confusion. 

“Don’t bother yourself with it, go back to your little dress talk.” Steve mumbles as a new wave of irritation sparks at him, knowing who you are getting dressed up for. 

You shake your head at him in disbelief, knowing what he is implying again. He thinks this is childish. He thinks this is immature. He thinks that you are immature for indulging in this. And it’s nothing new to you anymore, but it still pains you every time. 

Your usual soft features now burn with anger, matching his own energy. 

“You’re acting like a jerk, again!” You exclaim, frustrating him further. 

Steve is so guided by anger that he can’t even see how much his indifference and anger are hurting you. 

“You don’t get to tell me how I’m acting. You, of all people, should keep that to yourself.” 

Your lips parted, and your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. You shake your head at him slowly, stepping closer to him, unknowingly making his heart ache in his chest – that should be enough of a warning for him. His heart is screaming at him, along with the little voice in his head that is just begging for him to stop. 

“What is that supposed to mean?” You ask, tilting your head to the side. 

Steve clenches his jaw, also taking another step closer. He looks down at you. 

“Oh, you fucking know. You don’t get to call me a jerk when you have been one to me for weeks now, so just go back in the house and make yourself look pretty for your little boyfriend while I go live in the real world–”

“What– is this about Aaron?” You scoff. 

Aaron. Aaron. Aaron. 

He’s heard that name numerous times in the past few days, and every time it sends a flash of rage through him. He can’t wait for tomorrow to come, to leave this place, and to never look back. 

He takes a deep breath, staring at your confused face. He stares and stares. And he bites his tongue, knowing that if he keeps this conversation going, he will say something that he will regret. 

And his silence only fuels your anger, it makes it burn inside of you. He keeps doing this. And you can’t bear it anymore. It leaves you fuming. 

You are both breathing heavily. Staring at each other intensely. The fire is burning between you, dangerously so. One that will do damage. One that will burn everything around you. 

“You want me to live in the real world?” You ask, glaring at him. “You want me to be more serious, more mature? Got it.” You mumble in anger, looking at him one last time before you storm back into the house, slamming the door and leaving him standing. 

Steve is breathless, packed with anger, and unable to think clearly. Everything in him burns deeper and stronger than before. He puts on his jacket before he walks down the stairs, storming away from the house. 

The sky is getting darker already, and not many people are around at this hour – most people must be getting ready for the farewell party planned for them. Steve isn’t looking forward to it, he is only looking forward to getting back on the road. 

He has no particular destination. He just needed to get out of the house and away from you, but no matter how much distance he puts between you both, the anger never fades away. If anything, it only worsens, especially when he stumbles upon the stables and the only one left working with the horses is Aaron. 

Steve halts in his tracks when he catches sight of him. The man is cleaning up the stable, unaware of the death glares directed towards him. 

The sight of him makes his blood boil, and he knows exactly why: it’s because of you. The moment you stepped foot inside this community, he had been on you, whisking you away with ease. 

And you let him. You let him after trying with him. 

He doesn’t know what angers him more. The fact that you are spending time with another man, the way you did with him, or the fact that this man might be using your vulnerable state for his own entertainment. 

Before thinking it through, he storms towards him and into the stable, making the man turn around. 

Aaron notices the anger right away, feeling the tension and seeing the hatred in his hazel eyes. He can tell what Steve is looking for. He can see it from a mile away. 

“Steve.” Aaron nods, looking him up and down. “You alright?” He asks, raising his eyebrow at him. He turns his back to him, putting away the last saddle. He takes his gloves off and runs a hand through his hair before he turns around again. 

“What are your intentions with her?”

Aaron crosses his arms over his chest, furrowing his eyebrows. “That’s what you came here for?” Aaron asks, looking into hateful eyes. “You looking for a fight?” 

Steve huffs, and he takes another step closer. Everything about the cowboy makes him burn in the worst ways possible. His hands clench into fists, and he has to restrain himself from throwing a punch – the result of his frustrations. 

“How about you go and take a walk to clear your head, and then we can talk–”

Steve doesn’t think when he takes another step forward and grabs Aaron by the collar of his jacket, slamming the older man against the wall behind him. 

“What are your intentions with her?” Steve repeats through gritted teeth. 

Aaron sighs, shaking his head at the brunette. He doesn’t even look fazed. He clenches his jaw as he stares into his eyes for a moment. He can see right through him. He can see every bit of fear in his eyes. Anger. Hatred for him, all that because of you. What a fool, Aaron thinks. This didn’t have to happen. He put this all on himself. 

Aaron was patient with Steve so far. He didn’t care about the little huffs directed towards him or the glares the brunette kept sending his way. He didn’t pay much attention to him at all. He did see the jealousy, something that you didn’t see. He did see the way he kept watching you like a hawk, something a friend wouldn’t do. 

Aaron didn’t get to know Steve as well as he got to know you or Eddie, or even Nancy, but he can see the way something is holding him back from you. 

And all Aaron can see him as is a foolish man. A weak, foolish man. 

“Slow down, buddy. Clearly my intentions are the same as yours.” Aaron huffs, ripping Steve’s hands off with ease. He pushes him back and away from him, glaring back at him now. “It’s just that you don’t have the balls to act on them.” 

Deep down, Steve knows that. He knows that the man before him has a genuine interest, otherwise, he wouldn’t have offered to be the one to take you to your family. It’s not a conversation that was meant for his ears, but Steve overheard it. Two nights ago, when Aaron had walked you to the cabin, the window in the kitchen was open, and Steve was washing the dishes when he heard something that ruined his mood entirely. 

‘I know you’re just trying to get back to your family. I don’t know what your plans are after that, but if you want to, I can be the one to take you. We’ll get your family and you come back here with me. The community has a lot to offer for you and them.’ 

Steve’s blood had been boiling since that night. How dare he try to take you away from him? 

He doesn’t know where you stand with Aaron. He doesn’t know if anything has happened between you already. He isn’t sure if he even wants to know. He didn’t stick around to hear your answer, too afraid to hear you accept his offer. 

Given the fact that there is a farewell party for all of you tonight, he guesses that you declined it. 

But it does little to make him feel better. 

“Don’t you dare touch her.” 

Aaron huffs at him, as though in disbelief. 

“That’s her ultimate decision. I ain’t forcing her or manipulating her.” Aaron mumbles. His blue eyes also flashing with anger now as he tilts his head at him, he takes a step towards him. “Unlike you, giving her all that hope, making her feel special, just to let her down? Kind of immature, don’t you think, buddy?”

Steve tenses up at his words. He swallows harshly as he feels a pang in his chest. You talked about your feelings to him? 

Aaron shakes his head at him. He grabs his cowboy hat off the rack on the wall and puts it on his head. He takes a moment to look around the stable, before he takes another step back towards Steve. He places his hand on his shoulder, patting it. 

“Don’t worry, she’s in good hands with me.” Aaron promises – no ounce of arrogance or cockiness in his voice, none of that at all. He takes one last look at him before he walks away, leaving him standing there. “Close the doors on your way out, will ya?” 

Steve is staring into blank space. He is breathing heavily. The anger grips strongly at him, stronger than ever before. His chest starts rising up and down. He sees red. Everything, all at once, comes rushing through him, and before he can stop himself, he draws his arm back and throws his fist into the wall. 

The rage was stopping him from feeling pain, from seeing the blood now slipping through the cracks in his skin. 

He wants to scream. 

He wants to break everything. 

The burning in his knuckles does nothing to mend the anger that he is feeling. He wants to be angry at Aaron so bad, he wants to hate him, but does he even have a reason to? No. He doesn’t. He can only hate himself for causing all of this, for being the reason why you are looking for comfort in someone else’s arms. 

He could’ve had you. He could’ve been with you. He could’ve been the one to take you to the farewell party, but instead he will have to watch you with another man. 

Blood is dripping from his knuckles and down onto the floor, staining the wood. Heavy breaths fall from his lips. He wants to throw his fist into the wall again, over and over again. He wants to feel something other than despair and heartbreak. 

Instead, he curls his hand into a fist and he holds back, knowing it won’t change anything. He turns around and slams his back against the wall. He closes his eyes and takes deep breaths, trying to calm his racing heart. 

All that flashes in his mind is you. 

You. You. You. 

And despite the aching the thought of you leaves in his chest, it begins to calm him down. Your laughter echoes in his ears. Your face flashes before his eyes. Your scent fills his senses. Your touch that always lingers on his skin. Like a wave of peacefulness that washes over him, he finds himself relaxing slowly. 

And he doesn’t know for long he sits there, staring into blank space, but when he finally calms down again, he pushes himself off the wall and gets back on his feet. The blood on his knuckles is dry by now. The cuts are burning. 

He makes his way out of the stable and closes the door like Aaron had told him to. The cold wind nips at his skin, making him shudder. The walk back to the cabin isn’t a long one. The light is still on, burning in the living room. 

Dread fills him, knowing that Eddie must have waited for him. You and Nancy must be gone by now. The footsteps in the snow indicate that you have left and when he steps into the cabin and he notices that your jacket is gone, he knows for sure. 

“Steve?” Eddie calls out to him as he comes limping out of the living room. His eyebrows are furrowed. Eyes filled with concern as the brunette brushes past him and into the bathroom. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” Steve grumbles. He throws his jacket off and onto the ground before he makes his way over to the sink and starts the water. “Why aren’t you at the party?” He scrunches up his face as the cuts begin to sting stronger than before, thanks to the warm water. 

Eddie walks a little slower without the crutches. His leg is still unable to move properly. 

“I was waiting for you.” Eddie mumbles as he stops in the doorway. It takes him a moment to register the blood in the sink and Steve’s pained face. 

“I’m not going–”

“What the hell happened!” Eddie cuts him off, staring at him, bewildered. 

“Nothing–”

“Don’t fucking say it’s nothing, Steve!” Eddie’s frown deepens as he limps his way over to him. “What…?” He mumbles, looking back and forth between his bleeding knuckles and his face. 

Steve sighs. His head hangs low, and he presses his lips into a straight line. No words are spoken. For a moment, it’s quiet between them. Only the sound of the running water fills the room. 

Steve knows that lying won’t get him out of this. Eddie can see right through him. 

With a sigh, he tilts his head up again. He glances into the mirror but chooses to look away again quickly, not wanting to see his reflection. 

“I talked to Aaron.” 

“Oh… Oh, please tell me you didn’t.” Eddie trails off as his eyes continue to flicker between the cuts on Steve’s knuckles and his angry face. 

“No.” Steve sighs, shaking his head. “We just talked…”

“And then what?” Eddie crosses his arms over his chest, raising one eyebrow at him. He knows exactly what was talked about or who. 

“Nothing. He left, and then I…” Steve pauses, feeling embarrassed to even admit such a thing. 

Eddie’s eyes scan his face, and he stares at him for a long moment. He takes in the anger still flashing in his hazel eyes. The despair. Eddie understands it, not because he ever felt this, but because he had seen this before. Anger that turns a gentle person into this – choosing to feel pain instead of fixing that one thing. 

“So you decided to what… punch walls?” Eddie asks, sighing. 

“Eddie–”

“No, Steve. You’re at that point again?” He asks, and Steve finally turns to take a look at him. The worry in dark brown eyes is so clear that it makes him feel guilty. 

Steve had felt this kind of anger before. Through the grief of losing Robin, he discovered this anger within himself. The kind that made him feel sick. The kind that made him want to break everything in his wake.

“No.” Steve sighs, closing his eyes once again. The water is still running over his knuckles. 

“Then what…? Did Aaron say something?”

“No, Eddie.” Steve clenches his jaw. “He just… He wants her. I want her. I can’t have her–”

“You can.” Eddie scoffs, frowning even deeper at him than before. He doesn’t understand him. “You’re acting like he stole her from you. Dude, do you even hear yourself? She wants you–”

“Yeah, but I can’t have her, Eddie.” Steve snaps at him. He shuts off the water and turns to face him, not bothering to hide the vulnerability now crossing his features. “I can’t, okay? You think I don’t want to? You think I didn’t want to kiss her? You think it was easy to push her away? To pretend like I didn’t… like I don’t feel something for her? Fuck… You have no idea how much I–” Steve pauses, his voice turning shaky. His heart leaps to his throat. The realization of what he was about to speak into the universe dawned on him. He quickly shuts his mouth. 

Eddie’s soft eyes widen, and his words get caught in his throat too. He knew. Of course, he knew, but to hear him say it – well, almost say it, still shocks him. 

“Steve…”

Steve shakes his head. He runs his hand down his face and takes another deep breath. 

“Are you ready?” Steve asks, eying Eddie’s black button-down shirt. 

“Steve…” Eddie huffs, his shoulders slumping. 

“It’s fine, Eddie.” Steve mumbles, looking down. “It’s fine. This is our last night here, and I know you wanted to go to that stupid party, so let’s just… get this over with.” 

“Are you sure?” Eddie doesn’t hesitate to ask. 

Steve would rather stay hauled up in this cabin, than watch you be flirted with all night. 

“Yeah.” Steve nods. 

Eddie hesitates. 

“But if you wanna leave at any time–”

“Then I’ll tell you.” Steve nods, looking down at his cracked knuckles. He takes a deep breath. 

“She is there with him, Steve.” Eddie warns him. 

Steve grimaces at his words. His chest pangs. He saw the footsteps in the snow from when he came to pick you up. 

“Yeah, I know.” He mumbles. “I’ll be fine.” 

Eddie isn’t sure if he should believe him, but he doesn’t have much of a choice when Steve brushes past him after picking up his jacket, grumbling a ‘c’mon’ as he makes his way into Eddie’s room to pick up the crutches. 

“Yeah…” Eddie mumbles. 

-

Lights are hanging from the ceiling. The barn is covered in candles. Country music is playing. The smell of food lingers in the air. People are dancing, having fun – living a night that was meant for a normal world, not this one. 

Eddie is looking around with a smile on his face, loving the sight before him. 

But Steve, he is watching with a frown. His eyes are glued to you. His heart is racing, everything in him burning yet fluttering. You are wearing a dress. And you look breathtaking. Beautiful. Everything around him, everything inside the room, disappears. All he sees is you. All that matters is you. Only ever you. 

You are smiling. The golden light that shines down on you makes your features look even softer. 

His breath gets caught in his throat. His heart skips a beat when a giggle falls from your lips. The sound reached his ears even over the music and from afar. 

“This is amazing.” Eddie whistles. “Are those spare ribs?” He gasps, slapping Steve’s shoulder and pulling him out of his trance. 

The brunette blinks. He furrows his eyebrows and glances at the metalhead for a second before he looks back at you. The softness in his eyes quickly disappears when he notices the arm around the back of your chair. A sour taste settles on Steve’s tongue when he sees how close you are sitting next to Aaron, comfortably so. His blue eyes are stuck on you. A smile lingering on his face as he watches you tell a story. You are waving around with your hands, giggling through words. Nancy and Tommy, who sit across from you, laugh with you, nodding along to whatever story you are telling. But Aaron, he is watching intently, looking at you with a smile so soft that it could only mirror his own. 

The cracks on Steve’s knuckles start burning yet again when he clenches his fist. It’s his fault, he tells himself. It’s his fault that you are sitting there next to another man instead of being here with him. 

And he really can’t blame Aaron now, can he?

Tommy spots him and Eddie. His eyes light up as he looks between them. Raising his hand up, he waves them over. 

“We don’t have to sit with them if you don’t want to.” Eddie assures Steve, not wanting to force him to share a table with you when you are here with someone else. 

“No, it’s fine. It would be kind of weird not to sit with them.” Steve mumbles. Slapping Eddie’s shoulder, “come on…”

Your eyes found his as your smile slowly faded. He took a seat across from you, right next to Tommy, while Eddie sat on his other side. His heart beat into his throat the more he looked at you, the more he scanned you, the more he tried to understand what you were feeling. He saw the makeup, the effort you took to look beautiful… and not for him. 

And that thought made his heart break even more.

It felt like time stopped for a few seconds, like everyone else in the room didn’t exist any longer. The galaxy stopped moving. The rush of blood cells filled each other’s ears, ringing noisily, being a nuisance. He noticed how your eyes drifted to his hand that was resting on the table, and he winced, quickly moving it away. Space and time started working again, and the noise around the two of you came back like a stampede.

“Well, how do you like it?” Tommy asked, making Steve clear his throat, finally turning his head to look at the man.

“It’s… nice. Thank you for putting in uhm… the effort in making this.” He cringed a bit at his awkwardness, but Tommy chuckled, patting his back.

“Well… Nice fellows like yourselves and–” His eyes found Nancy, who was sitting next to him already, her eyes a little glossed over thanks to the glass of wine she had already drunk. A smile appeared on Tommy’s lips as he continued talking. “Beautiful ladies like these two deserve a nice… farewell party.” 

Eddie whistled under his breath, and Steve wanted to bolt the fuck out of there. He felt his stomach turning with nausea, and he gave a short nod, trying not to look uncomfortable. His eyes found you again, and he noticed how you were trying to listen to what Aaron was saying, but you kept looking at Steve’s way. 

His heart turned, his knuckles turning white from making his hands turn into tight fists over his lap. Eddie noticed, a frown appearing on his features, his gaze finding you looking Steve’s way as you tried to smile at Aaron. He sighed, feeling like things should have gone differently. That this should not be the situation you deserved, the both of you, to be in.

You all got drinks, and Steve was numb to it all. His eyes kept going from his beer to you. It was constant, and you could barely handle it any longer. He saw you whisper something into Aaron’s ear, and he nodded, a smile on his face, and Steve’s stomach dropped when you two got up and walked towards the small dance floor in the middle of the wide dining place. 

The song was slow and country-like, played live. Tommy left to get more drinks for him and Nancy, and she took this chance to scoot closer to his friends, her eyes on you and Aaron. Eddie’s eyes never left Steve. 

The brown haired man saw how Aaron’s hand enveloped yours, his other hand pressing onto the small of your back, pulling your body close to his. Steve felt like vomiting as he watched you sway at the music, slowly, while talking to the man who was holding you so tenderly. Holding you the way he wanted to. The way he desired to. 

Eddie felt his entire body freeze up, and a frown appeared on his eyebrows. He was happy for you, but he couldn’t help but feel helpless for Steve. He wanted to save him from the pain, because even if what his friend did was stupid, he didn’t deserve to hurt the way he was hurting. 

“Steve, maybe we should… head out–”

“You just got here, Eddie.” Nancy fought back, and Eddie clenched his eyes, not being able to feel anger at his best friend for the very first time. She didn’t care about Steve, and how he was slowly crumbling down the more he watched you dance with another man. 

“Steve, we can go back to the cabin–”

But Steve stopped listening. He couldn’t hear anything but his own heartbeat in his ears as he saw your eyes, finding blue ones. You looked shy, nervous, and you were asking a silent question that Steve knew too well. 

Those same eyes you used back at the mansion, those weeks ago. 

Those same eyes you looked at him with before you got closer.

He saw you stop moving completely, still holding onto one another, and Aaron held your gaze for a moment before he leaned in. Steve felt his chest clench, and he was hoping you would move away. That he misinterpreted your eyes for something else. That you weren’t actually asking for the same thing you had tried to get that day at the mansion from him. That you weren’t going to go through with it. 

He wanted to believe it so badly, but then he saw you lean in, your hand gripping the much older man’s as you raised on your tippy toes, and he should save himself from heartbreak. He should save himself from pain, but he can’t stop looking. He cannot turn his head away from seeing how you are inching closer to Aaron and how you aren’t stopping it and–

You kissed.

You were kissing another man.

Steve was frozen in his spot, unaware of how Nancy and Eddie were trying to shake him back into the present, but all he could see, all he could gaze at, were your lips moving against another man’s. His heart was melting in his chest, and he felt as if his skin was peeling off his muscles. Every cell in his body was screaming at him, and his stomach felt like a void. It felt as if someone had punched a hole in it, and all he could feel was that never-ending precipice.

Aaron’s arms enveloped around your body, pulling you closer, as some whistles could be heard, and Eddie’s hand was on Steve’s shoulder immediately. He was trying to shake his friend’s gaze away from you, but it was to no avail. His eyes, becoming redder by the second. His body started to have a few spasms. His neck, now filled with his veins popping out because of how hard he was clenching his jaw.

Steve was in pain.

Nancy was smiling your way, genuinely happy for you, unaware of how deep in a hole Steve was slowly carving himself in. Your arms were wrapped around the older man’s shoulder as you two kept kissing, and kissing, and kissing, and Steve felt vile rising up in his throat, threatening to come out of his mouth.

He needed to punch something. He needed the physical pain to overlap with the emotional one because he didn’t want to feel that anymore. His breathing was heavy, growing more labored by the second, and he wondered if he had been on your mind at any point. He wondered if this was how you would have kissed him all those days ago. 

And he will now never get to experience it.

He snapped out when Aaron pulled away from you with a smile on his face. His eyes shining for you as he took off his hat and put it on your head instead. The whistles now louder in this room, making Steve frown deeper, especially when you hid your face in Aaron’s chest and the man chuckled, wrapping his arm around you for a moment before his hand came to hold onto yours, and he started to slowly head out of the barn, pulling you along. Steve felt a cold sweat as dread filled him. He looked at how you followed, and he couldn’t see your face. He couldn’t decipher what you were feeling just by looking at the back of your head, and that was irking him.

But you were following the other man. You were gonna go with him. Alone. To god knows where. And that was the line for him. That was the one thing that Steve’s body reacted to. He abruptly stood up as anger, sadness, and possessiveness took hold of him, and he was ready to go after you two. He was ready to put a stop to it, somehow, but he had to try–

He was stopped from moving when he felt his right arm being grabbed and pulled. His head turned, his eyes sharp, filled with pain, clashing with blue ones. Nancy was glaring at Steve, stopping him from moving completely, and he had never wanted to shove a woman away the way he wanted to now. He needed to get to you. He needed to stop you. You were already walking out, and you kept following him–

“Nancy, let me go.” He growled, and Nancy yanked on his arm, stopping him again. Eddie got up from his chair, worry etched in his features.

“No. You have no right to go after her.” She spat back, making Steve send a glare her way as the anger filled his entire body.

“He is using her! She– She doesn’t deserve–” He didn’t know what he should say or what he wanted to say, but Nancy was not having it, her own protectiveness shining through.

“You rejected her! You are the sole culprit of how you’re feeling now! Do not blame her for living her life. Let her have this!” She almost screamed at him, and his eyes stared at her, his heart beating into his throat. He knew she was right. He knew Nancy was right, but it didn’t hurt any less.

“But he–”

“He is mending what you broke.” 

Nancy’s words stabbed him, deep. He could feel his cheeks burning, his eyes, his fingertips, his stomach, everything was in flames, and he couldn’t stop it. He could feel his feet wanting to work, but at the same time, they were not cooperating. He needed to run the fuck out of there, because he felt it. He could feel himself about to break.

Eddie’s eyes were wide at Nancy’s words, a new type of feeling surging up because– Before you, there was Steve, and Nancy was not caring for his feelings at all. She was not measuring her words, and Eddie felt disappointed. His hand raised to touch Steve’s shoulder, only for said man to rush away from him, heading to the back door of the barn.

Nancy was left there, huffing, and Eddie’s eyes found hers. He was glaring at her, and the girl’s shoulders fell at the sight of her best friend’s gaze. Eddie shook his head at her, a snarl on his lips, before he limped after Steve. He understood you. He understood Nancy. But no one was trying to understand Steve.

He knew his best friend was heading back to the cabin, away from the possible path you might have taken with the other man. He groaned a bit at how slow his pace was, but he couldn’t force his leg. Doctor’s orders.

Finally, he saw Steve, sitting on the porch of the cabin, his head in his hands, elbows on his bent knees. Eddie sighed, walking towards him and taking a seat next to him on the stairs. He had to tread carefully, not wanting to make Steve snap and walk away from him because this needed to be talked about. He needed to let it out, or he would consume himself with his thoughts.

“Steve… Talk to me.” Eddie tried and waited. He kept his hands to himself as he heard the music playing from afar. It took minutes, the only sound being Steve’s harsh breaths as he tried to calm himself down. 

"Go back to the party, Eddie." And Eddie could only huff, shaking his head.

"No, not when my best friend looks like he is about to die." At that, Steve grunts into his hands, not showing his face yet.

"I am not–" 

"Steve– If this hurts you so much, why did you do what you did? You– You could be happy and yet..." Eddie tried, and after a minute, Steve finally looked up, dropping his hands. His eyes were red, tears running down his cheeks as he looked at the ground before him. His thoughts were consuming him, yet at the same time they were numbing him.

"I am bound to lose people. It's a miracle you and Nancy are still here... I did it thinking it was the best for the both of us..." He tried explaining, and the words in his tongue felt like a lie, or like he was trying to convince himself that he was giving a logical reason. Eddie sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"Steve, it clearly isn't..." Steve’s eyes find his best friend’s, fresh tears forming in his waterline.

"I don't want to be something that pulls her back if something were to happen to me... You know her... And– Eddie, if I were to lose her... I don't know how I would be able to handle it... I don't think I could handle another loss like that..." And Eddie understood Steve’s words. He wouldn’t be able to go on. Not again. Eddie knew it was luck that kept Steve with them after Robin passed, and Steve was letting Eddie know that he might not be as lucky next time.

"Steve, that's– I understand you're... dealing with the trauma, but... But Robin would want you to pursue this girl, you know that." He tried, knowing that was the truth. Robin would want Steve to be happy, yet Steve’s face turned a little colder, shaking his head.

"... Robin is dead. I don't know what she would want." Eddie scoffed, looking down at the floor.

"And there you go again, putting that wall up." 

"I'm not putting anything–" 

"Whenever someone tells you something merely true, you get defensive like this." Steve frowned at his best friend, but Eddie continued, "This girl said she was coming to the community with us, where the two of you could be happy and safe... didn't you think of that?" 

"Of course I did... But what if one of us doesn't reach it?" Their eyes meet again, and Steve manages to keep talking, somehow, even when he feels his throat getting closed up by the second.

"Then you are a fucking wuss for not wanting to fight for your life to stay with her, with us. I'm sitting here, ready to go against anything and everything so I could stay with you guys, to see my uncle again, to finally reunite and present my sweetheart to you all... You're so afraid of loss that you forget how much you can win, Steve."

Those words made Steve freeze on the spot. He stared at Eddie as if he had just now opened the Pandora box for him. He could feel the tears now threatening to leave his eyes again, looking towards the horizon. 

“It’s the end of the world…” And Eddie took a deep breath in, slowly reaching up to wrap an arm around his best friend’s shoulder, trying to give some comfort.

“And you should live your life to the fullest. Grasping at happiness when presented to you, not running away from it, Steve, even if you’re scared shitless.” Steve could feel his body trembling, the words sinking into his system, and he could barely hold it in as he clenched his eyes together, gulping the lump that formed in his throat.

“I lost her.” He sniffled, and he could feel his chest aching as Eddie’s hand gripped his shoulder in comfort. “It’s too late now.”

“Personally, I don’t think so.” Eddie tried as he felt Steve start to lean closer to him, seeking comfort. 

“She’s with him…” He whispered, and a tear rolled down his cheek despite his eyes staying closed. He felt everything dawning on him at once. The regret, the anger, the sadness, because Eddie was right. Eddie was fucking right and Steve was stupid. He had been stupid and let his trauma, his fear, guide him to make one of the worst decisions of his life.

And now you might be gone. You might not want him again. You might not forgive him. Should he even try? Should he? Would that only confuse you? Hurt you? Anger you? He didn’t want you to feel any of those things again, but he isn’t sure if he could make you happy. Not ever again.

“And then she’ll come with us, Steve…” Eddie tried once again, his heart clenching when Steve finally laid his head on his shoulder, a sob ripping out from his throat.

“She’s with him…” He repeated, and that did it. He started crying to Eddie, realizing he had pushed you to be with someone else. He had rejected you, despite it not being what he wanted. He had rejected his own happiness out of fear of ending up alone, or dead. 

Funny, because he feels dead now. 

He thought it would be easy to let go of you because he never had you. He never kissed you. He never held you. He never got to experience you in that way. He thought it would be easy, only to be hit with the realization that you were more important than what he originally thought you were. You were a part of his life that he needed in order to keep going.

And he realized it a little too late. He thought it would be better not to engage in a relationship in the middle of the apocalypse, because that could only end up badly. One of the two could die. He had lost all hope of having a normal life in the end of the world after Robin died. 

When she passed away, all the fantasies of having a nice little house in California with the community vanished. It was as if reality hit him in the worst way possible, and he had to come to terms that life wasn’t going to be easy like it used to, even if he wanted to look at it in a positive way.

But when he met you, you rekindled that hope. And he thought it was foolish. He thought it couldn’t be. He thought that it was something that could never happen. A normal life. With families. Friends. A lover. Children.

And now, look at him. In a community that had all of that. Life. Normalcy. Pretending monsters and infected didn’t exist. He tried to fight it, tried to think that everything just seemed a little fake to him, but it wasn’t. No.

It just made him realize that he had made the wrong decision. It made him realize that what he did was wrong. And Eddie just now made him admit it. Because Eddie was right. Steve was losing more than what he thought he was saving himself from. He was losing you… But the reality of the situation was, you were now with another man.

His hand went to the back pocket of his jeans, moving a bit on his spot to get what he wanted out. Finally, he got hold of the picture he always took with him, maybe as a good luck charm, maybe to remind himself that the world could actually be good again. 

Eddie’s eyes widened a bit when he saw the polaroid picture in Steve’s hand. It was you. Back at the mansion. The metalhead winced inwardly, now understanding Steve’s feelings even more, and how deep they ran inside of him. Steve could only stare at you in the picture, how content you looked, how you deserved to be happy. And maybe, this man you were now with, alone, could give that to you.

A man who offered you to stay in this community.

In this perfect little world, he thought, didn’t exist anymore.

And you deserved the perfect.

You deserved the best.

And Steve, he wasn’t any of that. 

Wasn't he?

☀︎

let's all thank roe for making us cry. because I cried like a bitch. hope you all feel bad for steve

taglist: @prettyboyeddiemunson @pretentious-blonde @thecreelhouse @tvserie-s-world @thesickestqrmydcll @crispystarfishhottub @sophal22 @definitionwanderlust @talkativecarnation @mysticalwoolenfroglegs @ariesandwolves @mortqlprojections @sattlersquarry @sherrylyn0628 @purpleeyeswithgoldensparkles @micheledawn1975 @keepingitlokiii @littleromanoff2005 @sunshine-mrk @xxladymjxx @bananasplits-world @myharrington @btskzfav @hawkeyeharrington

[andvys]

The edges of your soul (I haven't seen yet) ⭐︎ chapter fifteen

⭐︎ Every print I left upon the track has led me here

Warnings: hurt/comfort, nightmares, ptsd, mentions of death, heartbreak, jealousy, mentions of sex, fluff at the end

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Summary: Moving on has never come easy to you, moving on from him seems impossible, but you have to try, don't you?

Word count: 8.5k+

Author's note: The reactions were mixed in the previous chapter, and I expect the same for this one, and the next one... especially the next one. But I hope you're gonna enjoy it still, and stay patient for a moment longer because trust me, it will be worth it. @hellfire--cult my loveee, thank you for writing with me as always ♡

series masterlist ⭐︎ previous chapter

☀︎

The cold air prickles at your skin, wind blowing softly, messing up your braided hair. The snow crunches beneath your boots as you walk down the street, passing by a group of kids who are in the middle of a snowball fight. Two little girls wave at you, greeting you with kind smiles. Their noses and cheeks are red from the cold, but they don’t seem to be bothered by that at all, not even when they get hit by the snow. You wave back at them, smiling. 

Footsteps echo behind you, and your name is being called. You turn around, and a smile appears on your face when you see Nancy running towards you. Her hair is open today – a sight you aren’t used to. Her hair is always in a ponytail. It’s bouncing with each step that she takes, and you notice just how much it has grown since you left Hawkins. 

“Hey!” Nancy takes a deep breath after finally catching up to you. She puts her hands on her hips. “Where are you going?” 

Your eyes scan her face, there is something different about her today. Her blue eyes are shining, her cheeks are rosy, just like her lips. Did she put on make-up? 

“Nowhere, just wanted to take a walk,” you shrug and tilt your head to the side as you keep eying her. “You look pretty.” 

A smile appears on her face, and her eyes light up. 

“Thank you!” 

You can’t help but chuckle at the chipper tone in her voice. 

“You always do, but you look a different type of pretty today– are you wearing make-up?” You ask, leaning closer. 

She grows a little flustered beneath your stare. Her smile pulled into a shy one instead now. 

“Just a little lipstick…” She murmurs as she begins walking again, hoping that you will stop with the staring. 

As the realization sinks in, you find yourself feeling amused by her sudden shyness. You start walking again too, eying her profile and the way her hair falls beautifully down her back. 

“You are also wearing your hair open.” You point out, reaching out to touch it. “It’s gotten so long.” You smile, running your fingers through it. 

She hums, glancing at you, smiling. 

“Yours too, but you never wear it open,” she raises her eyebrows, glancing at your french braid. 

“It’s easier to maintain that way.” You shrug, looking down. 

Nancy hums and takes a step closer to you, reaching her hand out. She wraps her fingers around your braid, pulling it out from beneath your jacket. 

“Might as well cut it off if you’re gonna keep hiding it.” She jokes. 

You gasp at her words, turning your head to face her. A loud giggle falls from her lips when you look at her, bewildered. 

“Never! You know how long it took to grow it out?” 

“I was just kidding,” she giggles, nudging her shoulder against yours. Her eyes widen when she spots the little bakery on the other side of the road. “Oh, this is the shop Tommy mentioned! He said they have pastries and good coffee!” She says excitedly as she takes hold of your hand and begins to drag you across the street. 

You are amused by her excitement, and you can’t help but smile. You have never seen her like this. Smiling so widely, eyes shining with contentment and happiness. She smiles at the young couple who walk out of the shop, hand in hand, and greet you kindly. You notice the big bump under the woman’s thick jacket. 

“Aw.” Nancy whispers, eyeing her the same way you do. “I can’t imagine having children at all, let alone in a world like this.” She murmurs softly once the couple is out of earshot. “But it’s nice to see people continuing to live a normal life.”

You nod in agreement. Your eyes are still stuck on the couple walking down the street. Her hand on her belly, his hand on her lower back. 

“Yeah… I can’t imagine it either.” You lie. 

That’s all you ever wanted too. A family. Even in this world. 

“Come on.” She tugs you into the shop. The bell above the door rings loudly. Some pop song is playing. A few people are sitting in the booths, chatting and eating breakfast. The smell of coffee and fresh bread lingers, making your chest ache with nostalgia. This seems so normal, but it isn’t, not anymore, not in this world. You never thought you’d see anything like this ever again. 

“Wow.” Nancy whispers as she looks around. 

“Yeah.” You nod in agreement. “This is wow.” 

You loved going to coffee shops before and often met up with friends to study in cafes rather than libraries. You loved spending your afternoons shopping and grabbing coffee or something sweet afterwards. 

“Welcome in, girls.” The guy behind the counter says, waving at you. You notice the amount of tattoos on his right arm, and the ‘Metallica’ on his shirt peeking out from behind his apron. He grins as he looks between you both, “you new here?” 

“Yeah!” Nancy smiles as she pulls you along with her towards the counter. “Well, we’re just staying here for a couple of days.” She explains. 

He nods, his eyes flashing with realization. “Oh, you were the ones who got attacked a couple of days ago. My brother was there when Aaron found y’all. Is your friend okay?” 

“Yeah, he’s doing better now. Still in the wheelchair, but he’s good.” 

“Yeah, annoying as ever.” Nancy nods, giggling. 

“A good sign of recovery.” The guy chuckles. He lifts his hand to his chest, and you notice all the rings on his fingers. His hair is long, but he has pulled it back into a bun. His style is so similar to Eddie’s. “I’m Clark, by the way.” 

Nancy introduces herself and you, holding a bit of more small talk with Clark before he lets you order your breakfast. She continues chatting with him while you wait for your coffee and food. 

You pick out a booth in the back, wanting to sit by the window to watch the people outside. You take your jacket off and put it down on the bench. Nancy sits down across from you, smiling. “I’m so excited for some good coffee!”

“Yeah, me too.” You chuckle, amused by this side of her. You like seeing her so carefree, so happy. “I’m excited for this.” You giggle as you grab the little can of milk and pour some into your coffee before adding two spoons of sugar. 

Nancy laughs when you lift the mug up to your lips and take a big sip. 

“Yeah, this is how coffee is supposed to taste like.”

She nods in agreement as she takes a sip. “Yeah, I don’t need it sweet, but I can’t stand black coffee! I don’t know how Steve can enjoy pure bean water.” She says without thinking, looking down at her food. 

Your shoulders tense, and your smile slips a little. You don’t want to think about him right now. You don’t want to think about him at all. All night, you stayed awake and stared at the ceiling, thinking about him. 

You still don’t understand where you went wrong. If you were the one who misunderstood, or if you actually saw the signs right, and he just led you on this whole time? 

“Taste the waffles!” Nancy gasps with her hand in front of her mouth. “They’re so good!” 

The look of enthusiasm on her face makes you chuckle just like it did last night when she took a bite of the steak Aaron cooked. 

You put your mug down and reach for the fork and the knife, cutting a bite sized piece. Your mouth waters at the smell. You bring it up to your mouth and take a bite. 

Nancy watches your reaction, giggling when your eyes widen. 

“That’s so good!” You whisper, staring down at the plate in awe. 

You both eat in silence at first, enjoying the food you could only dream of these past couple of months. She starts talking about the previous night, more specifically about the older cowboy she grew infatuated with. She is gushing over him, not even hiding the little crush that bloomed. 

“He said that he will take me hunting today.” Nancy says with an excited smile on her face.

You giggle at her blushing face. You were surprised by her obvious advances towards the older man last night. You can only imagine how she will be when she is all alone with him. And you bet that she won’t get rejected, who would? 

You are smiling at her, but Nancy can see the sadness in your eyes and how your smile doesn’t reach your eyes. A pang of guilt hits her, knowing the heartbreak you are dealing with while she is showing off her obvious excitement. 

Excitement you could be feeling too if you chose a little distraction. 

“So… it seems that Aaron likes you.” 

You straighten up in your seat, furrowing your eyebrows. “What? No. He is just being polite.”

Nancy furrows her eyebrows too, feeling confused because, are you really this oblivious? 

“Oh please, he had you sit at the end of the table so he could look at you! He explicitly said it!” 

You scoff at her words and shake your head, disagreeing with her. He did say it. But you are pretty sure that he was only being nice. 

“A man like that liking me? Impossible, Nance.” You frown, leaning back against the bench and holding the mug to your chest. You try to laugh it off, to act like it doesn’t hurt you to believe you have no chance with men like him. 

Nancy squints her eyes, growing a little annoyed. 

“Excuse me, what is that supposed to mean? Someone like you?” She asks, not liking the way you probably belittle yourself in your mind. 

“... Childish, immature… inexperienced.” You murmur after a moment of hesitation. 

Nancy stares at you for a moment. Her eyes scanning your entire face, tracing all your features and taking you in, to the point of making you blush beneath her gaze. She tilts her head to the side. 

“Can I say something?” Nancy murmurs. Your silence being a loud response. “I don’t know where you have gotten the idea that you give off that impression, but I assure you, you don’t.” 

You surely won’t tell her who made you feel that way. She is mad enough at him as it is – something that you feel guilty about because you know that she is angry at him for hurting you. And you don’t want to stand in between them just because you couldn’t control your feelings around him. 

The look in your eyes is vulnerable, and she can tell that you don’t fully believe her, but she will repeat it over and over until you do. 

“Your inexperience doesn’t mean that you are childish or immature. Your positive and happy nature doesn’t either.” 

You sigh softly. You haven’t been the most positive or the happiest lately, and you barely recognize yourself nowadays. 

“Besides, the inexperience part? You can change that now if you feel like it…” She shrugs, giving you a suggestive look. “Just saying.” 

Your cheeks heat up at her words, and you shift uncomfortably in your seat, making her smirk. 

“I’m sure Aaron would be of great help… Besides, he is hot, girl – not to mention, a fucking Cowboy. A man. Tall, muscular, handsome… caring? I know you’d be in great hands with him. By the way he looked at you, I know he would love to take you for more than just a horseback ride.” She grins, wiggling her eyebrows. 

Your eyes widen, and you can’t help but let a loud laugh fall from your lips. 

“Nancy! Oh my god!” You cover your mouth, looking around the shop in hopes that nobody has heard her. 

“It’s the truth! You still don’t believe me?” She asks and gets up, walking around the small table, she pushes your jacket out of the way and takes a seat next to you. 

You’re eying her in curiosity, watching her with a tilted head.

Nancy reaches behind you and takes out the hair tie from your hair, not giving you a moment to react before she starts undoing your braid. She runs her fingers through your hair and smooths it down, fixing the front pieces. “Watch the way this will be the first thing Aaron will compliment.”

Your cheeks are flushed, heating up more with everything said. 

“Doesn’t have to mean anything–”

“Nuh uh!” She interrupts you, holding her finger up before your face. “Don’t. No man will compliment a woman he is not interested in. Trust me.” She gives you a pointed look. 

You clear your throat and look away, unable to look into her eyes much longer. You take another sip of your coffee. 

She keeps smoothing down your hair, running her fingers through it. Her eyes trace your side profile, eying the flustered expression on your face. 

“Sunshine?” She says softly. 

It’s not often that she uses the nickname, usually it was just to tease you whenever Steve did something that made you blush – that hasn’t happened in a long time though. 

“Yeah?” You ask, turning back to her. 

“You’re really beautiful.” She smiles, squeezing your arm. 

You are taken aback by her compliment. You are staring at her, blinking. 

“And really hot, your ass looks amazing in these jeans, by the way–”

“Nancy Wheeler!” You gasp as your cheeks begin to burn beneath her eyes. You slap her hand away, shaking your head at her. 

“It’s gonna look even better when you straddle that horse.” She giggles loudly when you almost choke on your spit. “Giving something great for him to look at?”

“Stop!” You scoff, scrunching your eyes shut as you sink deeper into your seat, covering your face with one hand. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” Nancy mumbles, still laughing. 

A smile tugs at your lips, even with the embarrassment still etched deeply into your features. You have never seen this side of her, not even when she was drunk. You can tell that she feels comfortable, safe enough to let her guard down and be herself. And despite the pain still in your chest, you can’t help but feel happy to see her like this, to see her having fun. 

“So… and what about you, Nance? I didn’t know you liked ‘em that old.” You mumble, trying not to smirk. 

Nancy presses her lips together. She crosses her arms over her chest and tilts her chin down as she looks at you. 

“I usually don’t, but Tommy? God. I’m done with guys my age, I want an older man.”

“Well, you have a week to crawl into his sheets.” You giggle, wiggling your eyebrows at her. 

“And you?” She teases, leaning closer to you. “You could get it every day for a week. I’m sure Aaron would love to teach you some things.” She snickers. 

The teasing goes back and forth for a while. Gasps and giggles coming from your booth. And by the time you both leave and go your separate ways, the burning in your cheeks is the worst it’s ever been. 

When you approach the stables, Aaron is already there preparing his horse, Athena. You greet the workers taking care of the horses. A smile spreads on your lips as you look around, excitement bubbling up inside of you when you see the horses and the ponies. 

Aaron turns around to face you after putting the harness on her. A smile appears on his face, his eyes roam your body before they settle on your face. 

“Good morning, Darlin’.” Aaron greets you. 

“Good morning.” You smile shyly as you approach him. 

His smile widens when he sees the way your eyes light up as you stop in front of Athena, whispering a quiet ‘hi’ to her. You lift your hand up to her slowly, letting her sniff it and get used to your scent first. 

Athena’s fur is black, shiny beneath the sun. A white spot between her eyes, almost in the shape of a heart. 

“A natural, I see.” Aaron says softly, smiling. “Most just start petting the horses, startling them that way.”

“Gotta earn her trust first,” you whisper, glancing at him.

He hums, nodding as he takes a step forward and closer to you. 

“You’re wearing your hair open today.” 

Oh. 

Your cheeks heat up once again. A shy smile tugs at your lips as your stomach makes a flip. Nancy was right. 

“Beautiful.” Aaron murmurs. 

You’re not sure if he means you or your hair, either way, you are blushing and feeling flustered beneath his gaze. And you know that he knows just how you are feeling, because there is a satisfied look in his eyes and a smirk tugging at his lips. 

“Thank you,” you whisper and force your eyes away from him as you start petting Athena softly. 

“You’re welcome, Darlin’. You ready to go?”

You nod, swallowing the nervous lump in your throat. “She won’t throw me off, right?” 

Aaron chuckles at you, shaking his head. “No, she won’t. She wouldn’t let you touch her if she didn’t like you.”

“Okay.” You nod, still staring at her. “She’s a beauty.” 

Aaron nods, humming at your words as he stares at you. “She is.” 

You look at him through your lashes, hating the way your cheeks burn without a stop today. Something in the way he looks at you tells you that he isn’t talking about Athena. Something else tells you that it’s impossible that he could mean you. 

You clear your throat and pull your hand away from her. You look up at the horse saddle, taking a step closer to her and to him. You glance down at her stirrup. Pulling your hair back, you tuck it behind your ears and clear your throat again, “so… how do I–” Your words get caught in your throat and a gasp nearly falls from your lips when you feel his hands on your hips, gripping you strongly as he lifts you up and places you on the horse as though you weigh nothing. 

At this point, you feel like you’re burning up with a fever from how hot your skin feels, on your face and under your clothes. You can’t even feel the cold wind anymore. You grab the horn and wrap your fingers around it tightly. 

Aaron chuckles at your reaction, unable to hide the smirk that creeps up on his face now, he enjoys your blushing face. 

“You good?” Aaron asks, making sure you are sitting comfortably. 

“Mhmm.” You nod, not trusting your voice right now. 

“Alright, you ready then?” 

You nod again, smiling in excitement as you look down, scooting forward a little to make more space. 

Aaron grabs the reins, handing them to you with a grin, “hold them for a sec.”

You wrap your fingers around it, holding it tightly. 

“Yes, sir.” You say, making him chuckle. 

Aaron adjusts the rifle slung over his back before he steps closer and gets on behind you. He reaches for the reins. His fingers brush against yours as he takes them from you. His hands settle on your hips. 

“That okay?” He asks, murmuring into your ear. 

“Yeah.” You nod, and you are feeling relieved that he can’t see you right now. You have been flustered before, but now? Now it’s so much worse. To feel someone so close to you again, to feel someone touching you, let alone someone like him, makes your stomach flip. Nancy is right, he is hot, very handsome too. But he isn’t Steve, he will never be, no one will ever be like him. 

It almost feels a little wrong to feel flustered over another man’s touch. To feel your body heat up and your stomach flutter when he presses his fingers deeper into your hips, rubbing circles with his thumb. 

But is it wrong? Is it wrong when he rejected you? When he made it clear that there was nothing between you? Is it wrong to indulge in this? 

Your emotions are troubled, and there is a mix of thoughts running through your mind like crazy. You want to take Nancy’s advice, you want to shut off for a moment and have fun. You want to experience things that you have wanted for god knows how long. And now, if she is right, you do have the opportunity, it’s basically handed to you on a silver platter. All you have to do is just grab it. 

It doesn’t have to mean anything. You will be leaving in a week. No hard feelings. 

But you don’t know if your feelings will play along. If your heart will allow you that when it’s still with another man.

“You feeling okay, Darlin’?” Aaron asks, pulling you out of your deep thoughts. 

You blink a few times as you come back from your mind. Only now noticing that you are riding through the town already, slow and steady, into the direction of the gates. 

You nod, grabbing the horn tightly. 

“Yeah, I’m good.” 

“You’re awfully quiet.” He points out. 

“Just enjoying the ride, sir.” 

Aaron chuckles, squeezing your hip as he leans a little closer. 

“You didn’t forget my name, did you?” He murmurs, causing goosebumps to rise on your skin. His scent invades you, the same cologne from the night before. It makes your stomach flip yet again. 

You have to take a deep breath to steady your racing heart. 

“Of course not, Aaron.” You murmur, holding back a nervous chuckle. “Just thought you’d like a cute name too, since you keep calling me Darlin’. Now I can’t help but wonder if you have forgotten my name.” You tease him. 

Aaron laughs softly behind you. He squeezes your hip once again. He speaks your name almost in a whisper.

“Like I’d forget your name, pretty girl.” 

Your breath hitches in your throat, and your heart skips a beat. 

“You might wanna hold on tighter now, Darlin’.” He murmurs into your ear as he reaches for your hands and brings them back to the horn. 

You look down at his big hands, and how yours nearly disappear behind his. You gulp, nodding. 

“Ready?” Aaron asks again as you both ride past the now open gates. There is nothing but a wide field ahead of you, nothing but the huge forest and the mountains to see. Nothing but freedom, miles and miles waiting for you to explore. 

“Ready.” 

The little girl in you who always dreamed of this moment nearly squeals in excitement when Aaron nudges his boots into Athena’s sides and she takes off, riding into the open field. 

The cold wind kisses your skin, but you embrace it, feeling freer than ever. For a moment, you can forget. For a moment, you can just enjoy. For a moment, he doesn’t haunt you, and your heart doesn’t ache. 

For a moment, you are free. 

If only you saw him standing there, watching, eyes filled with sadness and pain – ones that quickly flash with anger when he has to watch another man grab your waist, holding you against his body. 

-

Aaron shows you a field at the end of your day exploring. An hour ride away from the community. It’s wide and closer to the mountains, covered in pine trees. There's a stream nearby, the sound of the water flowing giving the scenery an even more peaceful feel to it. 

Aaron brought a blanket to sit on and a thermos filled with coffee. You didn’t even notice he had a backpack until you got down from the horse. He made a little fire to keep you both warm. 

Your knees are pulled to your chest, mug resting atop of them as you sip on the sweet coffee – he even brought sugar sticks. He is very attentive, you have noticed that in the short period of time you have spent with him. 

“Can I ask you something?” Aaron asks after a few minutes of silence between you. 

“Of course.” You turn to face him, giving him a curious smile when you see him eying you. 

“Why were you crying yesterday?”

His blue eyes are kind, and there is a genuine curiosity flickering in them. 

“When you came to the radio station, your eyes were red.”

“Oh.” You murmur, feeling a little embarrassed now. You like to think that you are good at hiding things like that. “Um, it was nothing… it’s… it’s fucking dumb.” You mumble, wrapping your hands around the mug tightly. 

Aaron shakes his head at your words, frowning. “If you’re crying, it’s really not.” 

It is though. It is dumb to cry over someone who never wanted you in the first place, right? 

It’s dumb and it’s immature. 

And a man will think the same about you, won’t he? 

“Seriously, it’s… I was dumb. So that’s…” You mumble, unable to find the right words. You look into the fire, as though to find the answer there. 

“You missing someone?” Aaron asks, tilting his head as he eyes your features. 

A sad smile forms on your face, and you nod. 

“Yeah, but it’s not why I cried.” You explain, glancing back at him. You are trying to see signs of judgment, but there aren’t, not at all. 

“I know we only met a few days ago, but sometimes there is nothing better than to vent to a stranger.” He shrugs, offering you an opportunity. He keeps looking at you, an adoring smile tugging at his lips. 

You bite on your lip in consideration, knowing he is right. 

You talked to Eddie and Nancy, though not about everything. He was their friend first, and you didn’t want them to see him in a bad light. 

You take a deep breath and take a look around the pretty scenery before your eyes find his again. 

“I thought I read some signs right… and it turned out that I didn’t.” You mumble softly, opening the gate of emotions that will come through again with this conversation. 

Aaron nods immediately, understanding your words right away. 

“The nice hair guy? Steve?” 

Your eyes widen, and your heart skips in your chest. 

How did he know?  

“I–”

“Trust me, just had a little hunch.” 

A sigh falls from your lips, and you nod, not being able to hide this any longer. You weren’t even sure if you wanted to go into full depth of the story, but he knows already. Have you really been this obvious around him? You wonder, not realizing that it’s quite the opposite, that it’s Steve who is the obvious one. 

Thinking back to the day in the shed fills you with just as much pain as it did back then when he pushed you away. When he burst your little bubble and broke your heart. 

It all boils up inside of you again, rising to your chest and to your eyes. You don’t want to cry, not wanting to seem weak or immature over not getting what you wanted, so you cast your eyes back to the fire. You know there is no use in hiding. Aaron is eying you closely, and he seems to be very good at reading you. 

“He outright rejected me.” You admit, feeling embarrassed. 

“He’s a fucking idiot.” 

You can’t help but snap your head back towards him, facing him again. Your eyes widen in surprise. 

“W-Why?”

Aaron shakes his head softly, furrowing his eyebrows. 

“Why would he reject someone like you?” 

It’s written all over your face that you are taken aback by his question. Aaron can see that so clearly, especially when your cheeks flush. 

“I– I think he is seeing me as a best friend… the best friend he lost.” You whisper, and you can’t hide the sadness in your eyes now. 

“Again, an idiot for not seeing you as a woman.”

“A… woman?” You clear your throat in embarrassment – knowing that you are making a fool of yourself now. It’s just surprising to hear someone see you that way when you’ve been called nothing but immature, even by the guy who knew how insecure you felt about it all. 

Aaron chuckles softly, noticing just how flustered you are. 

“Yeah, like I see you.” Aaron speaks softly, his eyes roaming your face. “A beautiful and strong woman. I’ve seen the way you fought on the field that day and how you took care of Steve after, how you didn’t even hesitate to help Eddie.” 

You are surprised that he had noticed the state Steve was in – the frozen and panicked state that kept him from reacting the way he normally would have. 

“I have an idea of the things you have endured out there, especially when you were out there by yourself. To see that you haven’t lost yourself, to see you still smiling and hopeful even after being beaten down… that’s very admirable, Darlin’.”

Your lips part in surprise. Your chest is rising up and down slowly, and your soft eyes stare at him, almost confused. 

“I’ve seen so many men giving up inside the community. I’ve seen so many lost souls. You? You aren’t one, far from it actually. I know we’ve only met, but you’re one amazing woman, and I don’t know what this man’s deal is, but if I were him? You would not be out here with me, right now.” He chuckles as he rubs the side of his neck. 

Your breath is caught in your throat. Your eyes are still wide and filled with surprise. 

So, Nancy was right, for real. She was. 

“Aaron… I–”

Aaron holds his hand up, shaking his head with a smile, “I know, I know… But now you know that you have a chance with me, Sugar.”

Your stomach flutters once again, and your cheeks heat up too. You tilt your head to the side, pursing your lips as you stare in curiosity, not quite following. 

He doesn’t mean dating, no, of course not. For that, you aren’t here for long enough, and besides, there is Steve. 

“A chance for what…?” You blurt out, feeling a little stupid when his eyebrows shoot up and he chuckles softly. His eyes flashing with much more adoration now than before. 

“Oh, I see…” Aaron murmurs, smiling softly when he realizes your innocence. “Physically. So, if you want to experience something, cause that boy is not gonna do anything, I’m right here.” 

Your mind and your body, your whole being, are screaming at you. And you can already imagine Nancy’s and Eddie’s reaction to this – if you tell them. You hate the way your stomach burns in excitement and the way you flush all over as he stares at you. 

“I-I–”

“Just putting it out there, no need to get nervous. I ain’t gonna do anything unless you make the first move.” Aaron smiles, interrupting you. 

Isn’t that all you ever wanted? 

Aaron’s affections are clear now. You don’t need to second guess him or his interests. The handsome cowboy clearly wants you, and he is all you ever imagined your perfect man to be like, and yet, all you can think about is the grumpy brunette. 

You can’t help but curse him out in your mind. Because, why did he let you fall for him when he never wanted you like that? Because he had to know that some of his actions weren’t strictly platonic, right? An experienced guy like him, a former ladies’ man at that, had to know that he was giving mixed signals, right? 

“We should head back now, it’s gonna get dark soon.” Aaron says, looking up at the sky. 

“It’s that late already?” You ask in surprise. 

Aaron chuckles, drinking his last sip of coffee before he gets up. Looking over at Athena, who is resting under a tree. 

“Yeah, but don’t be scared, we’ll be back before night falls.” 

“I’m not scared.” You mumble as you get up and grab the blanket. 

Aaron knows that, he couldn’t help but tease you though. He chuckles, nudging your shoulder. 

“I know,” he smiles, he lifts his hand and taps your nose. “Brave girl, like I’ve said before.” 

You shake your head, unable to stop yourself from grinning though. He reaches out and grabs your hand, “c’mon, Darlin’.”

You bite your lip as you look down. Your skin is heating up under his touch. It feels foreign to hold someone else’s hand when you have grown so fond of his touch, when all you want is to hold his hand again, not as a friend but as something more, something that won’t be. 

You know there isn’t a chance, and you know that you are far from moving on from him, from even trying to. You might never will. No one has ever touched your heart, your soul, the way he did. No one ever will. 

But you also might never get another chance at experiencing things that you have craved for so long. And in this life, no second should be wasted. Death could be waiting around the corner for you at literally any second. 

So you might as well try. Baby steps. 

You wrap your hand around his and take a step closer. You look up at him with a shy smile, one that makes his own bigger. He squeezes your hand and leads you back to his horse. 

The ride back to the community is over too quickly for your liking. And once Athena is back in the stables, Aaron walks you back to your cabin. He holds your hand again, and you let him, finding a sense of comfort in his touch. 

The town looks beautiful at night. Lights hang above it, illuminating the street in golden hues. Laughter echoes from the bar at the end of the street as someone walks out. Aaron squeezes your hand, his lips curling upwards when he sees the smile on your face. It stays, lingering until your cabin comes into view.

The lights are on in the living room and the kitchen. You feel the tension slipping back in, knowing that you will have to face him now. You haven’t seen him all day, you left the house before he left his room. 

Aaron walks you to the door, stopping in front of it. He turns to face you, not letting go of your hand just yet. 

“Did you have fun today?” 

You nod, your smile widening. 

“I did. I loved it, Athena is amazing.”

Aaron chuckles, nodding as he rubs the top of your hand with his thumb, “she is.”

You hear Nancy’s laughter coming from inside, along with Eddie’s singing voice. A look of amusement flashes in Aaron's features, and he squeezes your hand once more. 

“You should go inside, they’re probably waiting for you.” 

Yeah. Nancy, Eddie, and… Steve. Steve, who keeps staring at you like he did nothing wrong. 

“Yeah.” You nod, looking up at him. A shaky breath falls from your lips when you notice the way he looks at you again. You aren’t used to this. Steve looked at you like that too, but it never had the same meaning. 

“Thank you, Aaron.” You whisper. 

He smiles, tipping his hat at you.

“My pleasure, Darlin’.”

You can’t help but giggle, especially when he lifts your hand up and leans down to place a kiss on your knuckles. 

“Have a good night.” Aaron murmurs, winking at you before he lets go of you and takes a step back. 

You press your lips together, trying not to smile. “You too, sir.” You murmur before you turn away and open the door, glancing at him one more time before you step inside. You close the door behind you and lock it. 

You hear music coming from the kitchen, Nancy’s and Eddie’s chattering too. You wonder if he is there with them. You can’t avoid him, you know you can’t, but you really don’t want to sit across from him, and be forced to look at him. 

You take your jacket off and put it on the hanger, along with your scarf. You kick your shoes off and step further into the hallway, embracing the warmth. You peek inside the living room, and the fireplace is lit, but the room is empty. 

“Sunshine?” Eddie calls, having heard your arrival. 

You walk into the kitchen, and before your eyes can meet the ones of Eddie or Nancy, they lock with his instead. Steve is sitting at the table, shoulders slumped and a tired look on his face. You tense up a little, heart stopping in your chest when you see the way his eyes light up when he sees you in the doorway. He straightens his back, staring at you like you’ve saved his day or something. 

You wish you didn’t see the look on his face. You wish you didn’t because it only fills you up with hope again. 

“How was the ride, Sunshine?” Eddie asks, pulling your attention towards him. 

Steve’s hazel eyes run up and down your body, scanning your face. 

Unbeknownst to you, the man was going crazy all day. He had never spent a single day without you since you stepped into his life, and he never intended on spending one without you in it ever again. This felt like torture, not having you around, not seeing you, not hearing your voice, made him restless and anxious. 

You break the eye contact and look at Eddie, who is grinning at you, wiggling his eyebrows. 

Nancy is holding a wine glass up to her lips, smiling smugly at you behind it. 

“It was good, Athena was very sweet—“

“Oh, I didn’t mean that horse.” 

Nancy chokes on her wine a little, laughing loudly once recovered. 

Your eyes widen, and your cheeks burn hotly at Eddie’s question. You stare at him, bewildered, lips parted in shock. 

Steve stares at his best friend in horror. His tired eyes now flashing with anger and a raging jealousy. 

“You’re a pervert!” You scoff and roll your eyes, making him chuckle even harder. 

You turn around and flip him off as you walk away. 

“Where are you going?” He yells.

“I need a shower.” You grumble, making your way into your room to grab some clean clothes. You turn on the lights and walk to the small dresser. There aren’t many clothes, but enough for your stay here. 

“Yeah, I bet you do after—“

Eddie’s voice is muffled, and the slap against what you assume is his shoulder is too, but still loud enough for you to hear. You know it was Steve. 

“Dude!” 

The chair scratches against the floorboards. Footsteps echo down the hallway seconds after. 

You shake your head, huffing. You expect to hear a door slamming, but it never happens. Instead, you feel yourself tensing up when you feel his presence looming in your doorway. You can feel his eyes on you, you can feel him staring, and it makes you nervous. Goosebumps rise on your skin, and your stomach flutters. 

“Sunshine?”

You close your eyes, taking a deep breath as you feel the pang in your chest. How can your heart flutter yet ache so strongly at the same time? How can his voice alone fill you with life yet drain you of it? 

Steve is rubbing his wrist, eying you slowly. He’s inwardly begging for you to turn around, to look at him. 

“Yeah…?” You clutch the clothes tightly to your chest and shut the drawer again. You take another deep breath before you turn around to face him. 

Steve doesn’t really know what to say, what to ask – would it be stupid to ask you about your day? Does he even want to know about your day? Does he want to know how you felt spending time with another man? A man who is clearly interested in you and not afraid to show it. 

Steve’s eyes are vulnerable and soft. He stares at you intensely and in a way that fills you with hope yet again. And you hate it. You hate it so much. You hate that a part of you keeps clinging to it. 

There is too much distance between you both for his liking. A distance he knows he could close if only he just told you. He craves it so bad. His heart longs for you. His heart longs for him to be honest. He aches to feel you in his arms again. 

He could have it. 

Steve opens his mouth, noticing the look in your eyes right away. 

He could have you. 

But is he really ready to take another risk?  

Steve’s shoulders slump, and he closes his eyes for a moment. 

He isn’t. 

He takes a deep breath and opens his eyes again, looking into yours. His heart pains in his chest from having to see you look at him like that. With no trace of a smile, with no happiness in your eyes. Nothing but flecks of indifference. 

At this point he doesn’t know what is worse. 

Taking a risk or having you look at him like this for the rest of your life? 

He ponders for a moment, playing out the possibilities in his head. 

It’s better to have you hating him than the other possibility. 

“There is… There is still some stew on the stove… I’ll warm it up for you while you take a shower.” He mumbles before he turns around and walks away again, leaving you standing in the middle of the room with a confused frown on your face. 

You don’t understand him. You really don’t. 

Steve plagues your thoughts like nothing else does. He leaves you with no peace. And every time, he has to make it worse by being like this. He doesn’t leave you alone, not even in your mind. 

His face, his voice, and his touch follow you everywhere. Haunting you, promising you to doom you for the rest of your life. 

Even as you toss and turn later that night, lying beneath your cold sheets. All you can think about is him and how much you miss falling asleep in his arms. How much you miss the feeling of safety. You can’t sleep without him. Every night, you wake up in cold sweat, plagued by nightmares of one of the worst days in your life. A nightly reminder of what you have done. A nightly reminder of what almost happened if you didn’t stop them. 

Exhaustion hits you suddenly, and your eyes begin to close, sleep beginning to pull you in, when something drags you back out violently. Your heart lurches to your throat. Cold shudders run down your spine, and a mix of worry and fear grips at you. 

Screams. 

His screams. 

You don’t hesitate to throw the covers off yourself. Your feet hit the cold ground as you run for the door, ripping it open. 

“Steve–” Eddie’s hushed voice sounds through the hallway as you make your way to Steve’s room, noticing that the door is wide open. 

“I’m fine.” You hear him mumbling. Though you notice the tremble in his voice, and you don’t have to see him to know that his whole body is shaking. When you step through the open door, your heart breaks a little more. 

Steve is sitting on his bed with his head in his hands – hands that are shaking. He is sniffling as Eddie sits beside him, with a hand on his shoulder, as he tries to calm him down. 

You freeze in the doorway. Your whole body is aching at the sight of him. You know that he must’ve been woken up by nightmares again – nightmares that woke up all of you tonight. 

“You’re not fine, Steve. This keeps happening–”

Steve shakes his head, interrupting Eddie with a huff. He looks up, revealing his red eyes and the tears running down his cheeks still. He hasn’t noticed you yet. 

“What’s going on?” Nancy mumbles tiredly as she comes out of her room and stops beside you. 

Eddie looks up at her, and Steve’s eyes follow, though his settle on you instead. Something inside of you aches so very deeply when you notice the way his hazel eyes flash with relief at the sight of you. 

“I-I’m fine…” He mumbles, never breaking his stare. “I’ll just stay up…” He whispers, achefully. 

“You have to try to sleep. Aaron already gave you pills and you gotta sleep it away–”

“No, I will be fine.” He mumbles without looking away from you. His eyes are stuck on you. 

You can see the damage. The damage that is causing you both with this distance between you. The dark circles under his eyes mirror your own. The sad yet angry look on his face resembles yours. 

Eddie shakes his head, and so does Nancy. 

“No, Steve. When’s the last time you slept properly?” She asks, walking into the room with her arms crossed. “You almost chopped a finger off cutting meat.”

Your eyebrows furrow, eyes growing wide at Nancy’s words. Your heart aches in worry. 

Part of the reason for your hopefulness was the comfort he had found in your arms. He felt safe with you, safe enough to sleep through the night without being forced away by awful nightmares. 

You took that comfort away from him just like he took your hope away. 

You are both slowly dying without each other. Your hearts are slowing down. Your skin is rotting. 

“Maybe I just need to take another pill–”

You frown at his words, staring at him with nothing but disapproval on your face. Eddie shakes his head, denying the request. 

“No, the doc said just one–”

You breathe in deeply and dig your nails into your palms. Not seeing another way for him out of this, for you both out of this. 

“Eddie, Nance… leave.” 

The room falls silent. 

Steve stares at you in shock. His hazel eyes big and hopeful now – the way yours usually are. 

The two of them turn to face you, staring at you. Eddie raises his eyebrows at you, as though to ask ‘are you sure?’  

Your shoulders slump, and you sigh as you look between them. “Just… leave us alone.” 

Nancy nods, giving you a sympathetic smile before she steps closer to Eddie. She offers her hand to him, helping him up. 

Eddie looks back at Steve one more time, nodding at him. He gets up, trying not to step too strongly onto his injured leg. You step into the room, letting them pass through the doorway. 

Eddie’s eyes are sad, and the smile on his face is too, as he passes by you. He squeezes your hand and whispers ‘good night’. 

“Good night…” You whisper and close the door once they are out of the room. You take a few deep breaths before you turn around. You avoid his eyes as you make your way over to him. 

Without needing to be told, he instantly scoots aside, making space for you… eagerly. Steve looks up at you, and his heart is pounding in his chest. It’s beating in anticipation. His hands are already itching to touch you, to feel your skin, to hold you again. 

You sit down and pull the covers over yourself. You are instantly hit by his comforting scent, the one that you have missed so much on your own pillowcase.

You shut the lights off, but the moonlight still seeps through the blinds, allowing you to see him still, even in the darkness. 

“Sunshine–”

You sink into the mattress, lying your head on his pillow. You try to ignore the pounding in your chest, the nervousness in your belly. 

“Don’t.” You murmur softly, shaking your head as you look at him. “Don’t talk… We don’t need to talk.”

Steve gulps, but he nods at you. He bites his tongue, not wanting to ruin this for himself. He feels relief, such strong relief flooding through him to feel your presence, to smell your scent, to hear you breathing, especially after the things he had seen in his nightmare. – How he couldn’t save you. How he couldn’t protect you. How you screamed his name when you were taken from him, ripped apart, and bleeding out while all he could do was watch. 

“Steve…” You whisper, pulling him out of his thoughts. 

He blinks a few times, now staring at your open arms. His heart skips a beat. The feeling of pure comfort awaiting him. He wastes no other second before he scoots closer to you. He glances at your worried face and at the heartbreak still evident in your eyes. 

He feels the same. You don’t know it, you might not ever will, but he feels the same. 

Steve’s heart fills with warmth – his whole body does once he lays his head on your chest and wraps his arms around you, slipping one beneath your back, wrapping it around you snugly. He melts into you so easily. The space for worry is becoming limited. The tension in him slips away completely, especially once you embrace him too, wrapping your arms around him. 

“Thank you.” Steve whispers, inhaling your scent. 

You squeeze him and cup the back of his head, slipping your fingers through it. 

“Sleep, Steve… please sleep.” You whisper as sudden tears burn in your eyes. It feels good, and yet it hurts so bad to hold him like this when you know he doesn’t feel the same. His body might find comfort in you, but his heart isn’t with you, not the way yours is with his. 

And yet it’s at this moment that you realize that you would do anything for him. 

Even if it will kill you. 

“This is real… right?” He whispers almost brokenly. 

You don’t know what he saw in his nightmares, but it must have been cruel, horrifying. 

“Yeah, it’s real.”

Steve nods before he sinks deeper into you. The tiredness hitting him out of nowhere, sleep beginning to lull him in. 

“Thank you, Sunshine.” He slurs before his eyes fall shut, and he is out suddenly. Now sleeping in your arms like he never woke from nightmares in the first place. 

You look down at him and lift your hand to wipe away the tear that rolled down his cheek. 

“Anything for you…” You whisper, watching him for a moment longer before you close your eyes too, embracing sleep just like him. 

And for the first time since the night at the mansion, you both sleep through the night, never straying away from one another. You sleep through the night and the morning, peacefully. Moving positions but never away from each other. 

He dreams, and you do too. No nightmares. No pain. No heartache. 

For one night, you are in peace, the both of you. 

You wake up in his arms. 

When the sun is high and the morning has passed. 

But when he wakes up, you are gone. 

Only your scent on his pillow and the tousled up bedsheets are the evidence of your presence – along with the exhaustion that left his body. 

You were there. 

You were there with him.  

And now you are gone again, reminding him of the emptiness your space leaves behind. 

☀︎

taglist: @prettyboyeddiemunson @pretentious-blonde @thecreelhouse @tvserie-s-world @thesickestqrmydcll @crispystarfishhottub @sophal22 @definitionwanderlust @talkativecarnation @mysticalwoolenfroglegs @ariesandwolves @mortqlprojections @sattlersquarry @sherrylyn0628 @purpleeyeswithgoldensparkles @micheledawn1975 @keepingitlokiii @littleromanoff2005 @sunshine-mrk @xxladymjxx @bananasplits-world @myharrington @btskzfav

[andvys]

The edges of your soul (I haven't seen yet) ⭐︎ chapter fourteen

⭐︎ The devil in your eyes, won't deny the lies you've sold

Warnings: angst, hurt/(no) comfort, jealousy jealousy jealousy, jealous!Steve, mentions of death, mentions of killing, alcohol consumption. some slight Aaron x sunshine (but not really?)

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Summary: As you, Nancy and Eddie get settled into the community, looking forward for a break from the trip across the country -- Steve can't wait for the week to be over...

Word count: 14k

Author's note: First things first, @hellfire--cult wrote half of this chapter, which is A LOT. she wrote the entire dinner scene aka THE BESTEST PART OF THIS CHAPTER ! so please please please give her the credit she deserves, and the LOVE. Second, I hope you guys are ready for the community chapters cause I am hehehe

series masterlist ⭐︎ previous chapter

☀︎

The night passed quickly, and not once did you leave Eddie’s side, nor did Nancy or Steve. Aaron offered to take you to the cabin you’d all be sharing, but you all refused to split up, at least until after you are one hundred percent sure that this community is safe – you didn’t tell him that, but it’s what you all felt. Even with the group of Hawkins having been here before, you still wanted to wait. 

Aaron showed that he could be trusted; the other doctors and nurses did too, but you could never be too sure in a world like this. 

You fell asleep on the chair next to Eddie’s bed, the blanket you were given last night, still wrapped around your shoulders. Nancy is on his other side, curled up into the uncomfortable chair with her jacket wrapped around her. 

And Steve, he is in the corner of the room, sitting by the window. He didn’t sleep a wink last night, even with you in the room, he couldn’t find rest. The guilt and the sadness lie heavy on his shoulders. His eyes constantly move back to you, tracing your features, watching you sleep, wishing he could hold you the way he normally could. 

It’s over now. 

Your head is leaning against the side of Eddie’s bed, cheek pressed against the mattress. Your skin looks soft beneath the rays of the rising sun seeping through the blinds. You look so pure, innocent, so soft. He wants to protect you. He wants to hold you, to never let go. He wants a world in which he could give you everything you desire, everything he desires. 

His heart aches. It aches so strongly. 

The door opens slowly, and Steve straightens his back, hoping to see the older doctor whose name he hasn’t learned yet, but it’s Aaron. He gives him a nod as he steps inside, carrying a tray with cups, sugar sticks and a pot. 

“Got you some coffee.” Aaron murmurs softly, carrying it over to the small table beside Steve. 

“Thanks.” Steve nods, trying to smile but it comes out as a grimace. There is something about the man that he doesn’t like. 

“You’re welcome, buddy.”

Steve’s lips curl into a frown. A sour taste settles on his tongue. Buddy? 

His face hardens a little as he watches Aaron walk over to Eddie’s side. He puts his hand on the monitor, checking on Eddie’s vitals. 

Steve gets up from the chair. His back hurts a little from sitting on the hard chair all night. He stretches a little before he leans down and grabs the pot and he pours some coffee into the mug. 

He glances outside as he lifts the mug to his lips. At first glance, it looks like a normal town, untouched by the outer world, if it wasn’t for the big walls, fences, and the guards on the towers. But there are people, a couple on the sidewalk walking hand in hand. A group of children walking down the street with backpacks on. Steve furrows his eyebrows, wondering if there is a school here. 

“Good Mornin’.” Aaron speaks, his accent a heavy southern. 

Steve turns around, seeing you awake now. You are sitting up slowly, moving away from Eddie’s bed. 

“Morning.” You say softly.

Steve’s heart flutters at the sound of your tired voice, at the look of your sleepy face. He watches the way you look around the room until your eyes lock with his. 

You always look for him first. 

He doesn’t look away, and you don’t either. For a moment, you just stare at each other. Both your eyes and his are filled with an ache that won’t fade away today or tomorrow or anytime soon. 

His eyes show words that he can’t ever speak out loud. And you try to read them, but you have misread before, so there really is no point. 

“How’re you feeling’?” Aaron asks, glancing at you. 

You tear your eyes away from Steve, looking at the older male on the other side of the bed. He offers you a kind smile, his eyes moving up and down your form. 

“Good.” You nod. You lie. You’re not good, you’re far from it. It’s been a week since your night at the mansion, a week since you had the most fun, since you gathered all your newfound courage to make a move on him, only to be let down. It’s been a week of torture, having to be around him after your attempted kiss, after his rejection. And now Eddie is hurt; he will be okay, but he is still hurt, and despite what he said, you still feel like it’s partly your fault. 

Aaron nods, though looking not convinced. 

You look down, tugging the blanket tighter as goosebumps rise on your skin. You close your eyes for a moment, taking a few deep breaths. You listen to the commotion outside the room, the footsteps, and the voices of people. You hear some kind of construction noises somewhere in the town. And then you hear footsteps, footsteps moving closer to you. 

You open your eyes again when the smell of coffee hits your senses. 

“Here.” Steve whispers, offering a cup to you. 

You slowly lift your head, looking at his hand, at the steam rising from the cup. You look up, your eyes locking on his tired features. A sense of dread fills your chest when you notice the lack of sleep on his face, the dark circles under his eyes, the exhaustion running deep. He didn’t go a night without sleep, no, it’s been days. 

His hazel eyes stare into your own, making your stomach flip, but your heart aches. You can’t read him, not anymore. 

“Thank you.” You whisper as you lift your hands up and reach for the cup. You wrap your fingers around it, trying not to touch his skin. 

You are the first to look away, to break eye contact. While you look down at the black coffee, he still looks at you, and it doesn’t go unnoticed by the man standing by Eddie’s side or by the metalhead now awake. 

You take a sip, welcoming the bitter yet sweet taste. He still prepared it the way you like it, and you can’t stop your heart from soaring, not even after everything that happened in the shed or after what happened yesterday. 

“Morning.” 

The sound of Eddie’s voice makes your eyes widen. You turn to face him, swallowing the sip of coffee you just took. You place the mug down on the table beside you before you reach for his hand. 

“Eddie!” You whisper, a soft smile tugging at your lips now. “How are you feeling!”

Aaron chuckles at the way your eyes light up and the high pitched tone in your voice. Steve’s frown deepens as he looks at the man watching you. He huffs, clenching his jaw. He steps away to pour Eddie a coffee as well.

Eddie chuckles, a grin appearing on his face. “Peachy. I’m feeling much better now. I don’t remember the last time I slept that well.” 

“Well, you can catch up on enough sleep here.” Aaron says as he walks around the bed, making his way to the side where you are sitting. “We might release you from the infirmary today if you are feeling fine, but we gotta run a few more tests first before that and keep you on watch after, but your friend already volunteered to take over that part.” He nudges his chin towards Nancy, who is still dozing away on the chair. 

“Of course, she loves me.” Eddie grins. 

You chuckle, shaking your head at him. 

“I’ll show you the cabin you’ll be staying at. Either once he gets released or if you’re up for it sooner.” Aaron says, looking at you specifically. 

You nod. 

If he or any of the other townspeople had ill intentions for you, you would have known by now. You’re safe here, you can feel it. And while it turned out that you might not be the best at reading people, you can tell that his eyes are filled with kindness and generosity. 

“I’ll go.” 

Steve furrows his eyebrows. His shoulders tense up, a sense of panic rising in him. If you are going, he is too. There is no way he is letting you walk away by yourself, let alone with a stranger he doesn’t know he can trust or not. 

You push the blanket off your shoulders and push yourself up from the chair, but the moment your feet are planted strongly on the ground and you are standing up, a wave of dizziness hits you and your vision gets blurry, blackening. You lose your balance and your knees buckle. 

But you never hit the ground, a pair of arms wrap around your waist, holding you up with ease, saving you from the crash to the ground. 

“Whoa easy, Darlin’.” Aaron mumbles as he helps you back on the chair, sitting you down again, he keeps one hand on your waist as he crouches before you. 

Eddie stares at you, wide-eyed and worriedly. His hand shifts towards you, reaching for your arm. 

And Steve… He is frozen in place, watching from afar, feeling helpless and useless, watching the way another man tends to you while he can’t do anything but watch. 

Your eyebrows are furrowed, and you slowly lift your hand to your face, pressing your fingertips to your temple. The dizziness slowly fades again now that you are back on the chair. 

“Can we get a doctor in here?” Steve frowns, eyes stuck on the hand on your waist. 

Aaron turns around, glancing at him briefly. “I’m here, aren’t I?” He mumbles, slightly amused by the glaring hazel eyes. 

Eddie looks between both men, eyes staying on Steve for a moment longer. He notices the way he draws back, clenching his jaw further. 

Aaron looks at the untouched food on the table, the juice that you barely finished the night before. 

“I told you to finish that, didn’t I?” The man says with a serious look on his face, pointing at the chocolate bar and the peanut butter and jelly sandwich he brought you after another one of his checkups on Eddie. 

“I wasn’t hungry.” You frown, shaking your head as you slowly come back to your senses. You look at the man before you, meeting his eyes. 

“You lost a lot of blood,” he points out as he removes his hand from your waist once he is sure that you won’t fall over. “When’s the last time you’ve eaten a proper meal?”

Proper Meal? None of you has eaten a proper meal since you left Hawkins. All you’ve had were canned foods, stale chips, and chocolate if you got lucky. 

“It’s been a long few months, Doc.” Eddie answers for you, eyes glimmering with hope for a proper warm meal. “We’ve had some good food while we were in Hawkins – steak, vegetables, potatoes, eggs, dairy.” Eddie starts counting, but quickly comes to regret it when he feels just how empty his stomach is. “This one though? She survived on canned food for a year before she met us.” Eddie points at you, knowing how to get himself a warm dinner. 

Aaron raises his eyebrows, slowly looking back at you. His eyes scan your face, staying on the forming scar on your cheekbone before they move down to your shoulder. Your tank top is showing more skin than you’d like, showing off the deep and long scar on your shoulder that disappears down your back. 

“Well, we can’t have that.” Aaron mumbles, eyes still stuck on you. “How about you guys come over to my place tonight after I show you around?”

Silence fills the room. 

Nancy is still sleeping on the chair, unaware of everything going on in here. Steve is glaring at the man standing before you, already feeling his dislike for him burning. Eddie is looking at you with desperate eyes, both because he wants dinner and also because of what he told you last night. 

Your eyes widen and your cheeks heat up when you realize that he is waiting for your answer, barely looking at your friends. 

You know that Eddie would never forgive you for turning down such an offer, but Steve is glaring from the corner of the room, disliking the idea of it even. 

You lick your lips, eyeing the man before you. He offers you a kind smile, his blue eyes flickering with amusement when you look down shyly, unable to hold eye contact for long. 

“That sounds nice,” you nod, smiling softly as you look up at him again. “I’d like that.”

Aaron smiles at you, he reaches his hand out and grabs the blanket that fell off your shoulder. He wraps it back around you and gives your shoulder a soft squeeze, “don’t want ya to freeze.” His action was answering your question from the night before. He was the one who wrapped the blanket around you when you passed out last night. “Gotta find some warmer clothes for you.”

Your skin heats up, and you grow flustered beneath all the eyes on you. 

You don’t have to look at Eddie to know that he is smirking, eyes flickering back and forth between you and Aaron. 

You don’t have to look at Steve to know that he is glaring, already showing his dislike for Aaron – for no reason at all. 

“You want a tour around town before I show you to the cabin?” Aaron asks, looking into your eyes. 

You nod, growing shy beneath his stare. 

“Alright,” he murmurs, moving closer to you. He reaches over your shoulder and grabs the chocolate bar. He presses it into your hand. His lips curled into a smile, “I’ll take you out once you finish that.” 

Your cheeks heat up further. You swallow nervously, breaking eye contact as you look down. 

“Okay.” You whisper, unwrapping the candy from the plastic. 

Steve crosses his arms over his chest as he watches you. You lean back in your chair, blushing when your eyes lock with the man before you. Having to hold back his scoff, he swallows harshly as he looks at Aaron. 

“You promised to take us to the radio station.” Steve speaks up, not even bothering to hide the bitterness in his voice. 

Eddie raises his eyebrows, glancing at the glaring man. He has to hold back the smirk from widening. Nothing worth being jealous of has happened yet, but he is already sour. 

Aaron rises back to full height, turning around to face him, he raises one eyebrow at him, “I will, don’t worry. I can take you right now, or you’ll wait for your friend to wake up, and then I’ll take you to the radio station.” 

Steve glances at Nancy, who is still sleeping soundly beside Eddie. A sigh falls from his lips. He tears his eyes away from her again, “no it’s fine later, I guess.” 

“I’ll show you two around while these two get some more rest,” Aaron nods, gesturing to Eddie and Nancy. “I’ll take you to Thomas, he’s our leader. I already explained the situation to him, you won’t have to do any work around here but–”

“We’re not staying.” Steve says, jaw clenched and eyes hardened. 

“I know that.” Aaron nods, glancing at you and Eddie before his blue eyes lock with his again. “But Eddie needs rest, he may be released today, but he is still dealing with a leg injury, not to mention the concussion – light or not, it’s still a concussion that can lead to something more serious if he doesn’t get the rest that he needs.” 

Steve glances at Eddie, who is staring at him with raised eyebrows. Guilt rises up in him, knowing that worse damage could be done if he were to demand to leave the community now. 

“Listen I know you have no intention of staying here, I know you want to get to California but for the sake of your friend’s health, for the sake of your health because buddy, no offence but you look like you could use some rest as well,” Aaron looks him up and down, making Steve’s frown deepen. “You stay here for a week. Y’all get the rest that you need. You’re our guests just like your friends, your family were guests here. If you wanna work and help around, fine, me or Thomas will find you something, but you don’t have to. You’ll be on your way sooner than you think.”

Steve’s shoulders slump, his expression softening a little at the begging in your eyes. He knows there is no discussion over this. Eddie needs the rest, you all do, just like Aaron said. 

“Alright.” He nods, though his jaw is still clenched. 

Aaron looks at him, noticing the distrust in him – which isn’t a surprise in a world like this, it isn’t ever. 

“Alright.” Aaron nods too before he looks away from him and back at you. 

You finish the last bite of your chocolate bar and crumble up the wrapper, throwing it into the trash before you get up, slower this time. You notice the way Aaron steps towards you, holding his hand out just in case you get dizzy again. 

“You alright?” He asks softly, eyeing you up and down. 

You hum, nodding. 

“Yeah, thank you.” You whisper, giving him a small smile. 

Steve sucks in a sharp breath, clenching his jaw as his eyes never stray from you. He picks up your jacket, still looking between you and the man who finally steps away from you after making sure that you won’t fall again. 

“We can go now.” You nod at Aaron, ready to leave this hospital room, to breathe in some fresh air, to be away from him–

“I’m going too.” 

Eddie’s head snaps towards him. An amused expression now on his face as his eyes flicker and glow with excitement. He isn’t one to enjoy someone else’s misery, but Steve deserves it a little, he thinks. 

And if this isn’t irritation flashing in his hazel eyes… It’s only a matter of time until it turns into raging jealousy. 

“Sure.” Aaron nods. 

But you look down, not impressed. You wanted some time away from him, but he, of course, won’t give you that, just like he didn’t before today. 

Steve walks over to you, brushing past Aaron. He hands you your jacket, ignoring the looks of the other two men giving him. 

“Thanks.” You mumble, avoiding his eyes as you reach for your jacket. You put the blanket down and put your jacket on. 

The cold tone in your voice doesn’t go unheard by anyone. The dismissive look on your face doesn’t either. It doesn’t go unfelt by Steve. His heart clenches in his chest. 

“I’ll send someone in to run a few more tests, you’ll get some breakfast too.” 

Eddie nods at Aaron, grinning at him, “pancakes or waffles?” He jokes, causing the man to chuckle. 

“Whatever you want, we've got a little diner across the road. Jody makes the best breakfast food.”

“Is that your wife?”

Eddie scrunches his face up at Steve’s question, he almost snorts. 

You raise your eyebrows, looking at him confused. 

Aaron though, he chuckles. He shakes his head as his blue eyes flicker with amusement. “No, he is not my wife.” 

Eddie’s eyes widen, and he cracks up, watching Steve’s face flush in embarrassment. 

Steve coughs, nodding as he looks away. 

You sink your teeth into your bottom lip, holding back from smiling. You can’t help but feel amused by Steve’s embarrassment and by Eddie’s reaction. 

“Alright, like I said, I’ll send someone in.” Aaron says to Eddie before he turns to face you. “You ready to go, Darlin’?”

“Mhmm.” 

“C’mon then.” He nudges his chin towards the door, patting Steve’s shoulder, who clenches his jaw stronger. 

You stand back for a moment, glancing down at Eddie, who is already smirking at you, wiggling his eyebrows when the two men aren’t looking. 

“Have fun, Darlin’.” He whispers, mocking. 

“Shut up.” You murmur, rolling your eyes at his teasing. You wave him off as you start making your way towards the door, ignoring his laughter. “See you later.”

“Bye, Sweets!” He grins, watching the way Aaron places his hand on your back as he leads you out. Steve looks down at his hand, frown growing deeper. 

Eddie’s grin widens, and he chuckles, earning a glare from the brunette before he walks out of the room and slams the door. 

A chuckle falls from his lips, and he sinks back into his pillow, “idiot.”

Nancy stirs on the chair. She opens her eyes, squinting them as the sun hits her face. A yawn falls from her lips, and she stretches her arms out. 

“Well, good morning.” Eddie mumbles. “You missed the whole damn show.” 

Nancy furrows her eyebrows, her blue eyes flashing with curiosity. 

“What show?” She looks around, only now noticing that it’s just the two of them in the room. 

“The hot Cowboy having a little moment with our sweet Sunshine and Steve losing his shit over it.” He giggles a little too evilly. 

Nancy sighs, shaking her head at him.

“This is gonna be so good, Wheeler.”

-

After Aaron took you to meet Thomas, the leader of the community, you noticed how the tension in Steve’s shoulders eased a little. The older man seemed more trustworthy to him than Aaron. And after mentioning Jim Hopper and Joyce, the frown on Steve’s face disappeared at least until you left Thomas’s office again. 

You walked between both men, nodding along to the things Aaron was telling you, but Steve didn’t listen, only watching your reactions. He saw the way your eyes lit up when Aaron showed you a little bakery. 

He explained how this town was protected right from the start. How the walls were built around it, the moment it all began. It wasn’t left unscathed completely, accidents happened, monsters came through at first, people lost their lives but they learned from their mistakes and did everything to protect this place from both monsters and people with ill intentions – which turns out to be a bigger threat most of the time. 

The town is filled with people. Older people, couples with children, teenagers who have lost their parents. It not only has a hospital but also a police station, a school, a church, stores, and a bar. 

There is a barn and a henhouse close to their greenhouse. You can tell that the people living here are getting warm meals on their tables every day. 

The cabin you are given is more than you could ask for. It’s not big, but it has a porch and pine trees surrounding it. The sound of a stream nearby gives you a sense of nostalgia, it reminds you of home. Aaron shows you around, while Steve follows both of you, not taking his eyes off you. 

The kitchen has a basket filled with necessities for your stay here. The living room has a fireplace and even a TV, a few movies tapes on the tiny shelf by the window. It only has one floor, but enough bedrooms for you all to have your privacy. 

“It ain’t big, but you’re all getting your own rooms, your own beds.” 

“It’s perfect.” You smile, turning to face him to find him staring at you already as he stands with his back against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, and a smile gracing his face. “Thank you, Aaron.”

He tilts his chin down, giving you a nod. “No need to thank me, Darlin’.”

Steve rolls his eyes, not liking the nickname you were given by the man. 

“There’s some stuff in the fridge: milk, butter, eggs. You can make some food if you’d like – electricity is working, by the way.” Aaron explains as he pushes himself off the wall, looking between you and Steve. “I’ll leave you be for now, there are some clothes in the closet, you both can freshen up. I’ll come back later to take you to the radio station.” 

Steve turns around, nodding. “You’re leaving?” He asks, voice thick with relief. 

It doesn’t go unnoticed by Aaron. His eyes flicker with amusement, and he looks between you both, noticing your reaction as well and the way you huff and step away from the brunette. 

“Yeah.” Aaron nods, eyes still on you. “But don’t worry, I’ll be back soon, Buddy.”

“Mhmm.” Steve nods with a clenched jaw. 

After saying goodbye to you, Aaron walks out of the cabin. Your shoulders tense up once you are left alone with him. The silence is heavy between you. You want to move, to walk away, to make your way into one of the rooms and grab some fresh clothes, but for some reason, you find yourself frozen in place. 

Steve takes a deep breath, looking away from the front door, and he looks down at you. Finally left alone with you. He didn’t get the chance for a moment like this since the day in the shed. 

He knows this could be the chance to come clean, to tell you about his feelings, to tell you what is holding him back. 

But he can’t, he can’t because it will fill you with hope again, hope for something he won’t give you. 

“Sunshine.” He still speaks up, without knowing what to say to you. 

You look up at him, eyes soft and vulnerable. 

You wait for him, you wait like you always do, but he gives you nothing. He just stares at you, his hazel eyes filled with emotions you can no longer read. 

“I’m gonna take a shower.” You mumble, sighing as you step away from him, and he lets you. He lets you because you know that he has nothing to say to you, nothing that could mend your pain. 

You walk away, and all that he can do is watch, when things could be so easy. 

You feel his eyes on you even as you walk into one of the bedrooms. You try, you really try to ignore it, to ignore him, but it’s difficult when you feel the tension in the air, when you feel the way he looks at you, knowing that he wants to go back to how things were before you ruined the friendship that once was. 

He wants that while you want something more. And after humiliating yourself the way you did, after he threw hurtful words at you, you can never go back to what you two have been. It was nice while it lasted, but you wish it lasted longer, and you wish it didn’t end the way it did. 

Once locked inside the bathroom, you press your back against the door and close your eyes, clutching the clothes you picked out to your chest. You breathe in and out, in and out, and suddenly it gets caught in your throat, growing into a painful lump that makes your eyes burn. Your bottom lip starts trembling, your chest starts aching as the events from the days before… the weeks before start catching up to you. A tear slips down your cheek, and then another, and then they start falling freely. 

You cry silently, in secret. You don’t want Steve to hear your sobs. You don’t want him to hear your weakness.

Looking into the mirror feels like looking at a stranger. You no longer recognize the person staring back at you. You changed, not only physically but on the inside… And you aren’t sure if you like the girl in the mirror. 

You see the amount of scars now covering your skin, the one on your shoulder being the oldest, the one on your cheek being the newest. Both given by people, not creatures, by monsters. 

You feel like you are staring at one in the mirror. 

You look down at your shoes, blood stains on them still. You kick them off and start working on your belt, undoing it quickly. You freeze when you eye the lilac hair tie around your wrist. Robin’s hair tie. 

You remember how he told you that you remind him of her. You also remember how he mentioned the short lasting crush he once had on Robin before she came out to him, and he had to accept that nothing would come out of it. 

He loved Nancy. He liked Robin. 

You are nothing like Nancy, but apparently you are everything like her. And even then, he didn’t like you, just like your own ex-boyfriend never liked you, as you had realized by the end of your relationship. 

What is it about you that is so unlovable? 

What is it about you that isn’t enough? 

You look back into the mirror, looking at the tears rolling down your face. You see, the hollowness is in your own eyes, the darkness that slowly began to take you, to envelope you. You are beginning to see the world reflect on you. 

Is that why he doesn’t like you? 

Is it the darkness he saw in you on that day? 

Or is it your immaturity after all? 

All these questions and yet no answers. You feel no anger, just sadness and rejection, making you feel sick still. You try to push away those thoughts. You wipe your tears and take your clothes off before stepping into the shower, letting the warm water envelope you.

A mixture of dirt and blood pools at your feet as the water runs down your body, going down the drain. You press your hand against the cool tile. You close your eyes and stand there for a moment, unmoving. 

And suddenly it all crashes over you. Your shoulders start shaking, and you start crying harder, unable to hold back any longer. 

And Steve… He is still in the hallway, eyes burning with tears at the sound of your soft cries, unable to pull you into his arms, unable to comfort you, unable to hold you. 

All he can do is stand there and listen. 

Hurting both you and himself. 

-

The radio station is located on the edge of the town, right next to one of the watch towers and inside the police station. The office room is filled with equipment, a transmitter, microphones, antennas, and a couple of walkie talkies lying around. There are posters on the wall, guides to morse codes, and others. 

You look around the crowded room, noticing the shelf in the corner with music tapes. You walk over to it, checking out the albums. You’re unaware of the worried looks Nancy is giving you, having noticed the redness in your eyes, the evidence of your crying. 

Steve is eying you too, his arms are crossed over his chest, his eyes are guilty, but his face is hard because he isn’t the only one looking. 

“How long will it take?” Eddie asks, sitting in the wheelchair that he fought Nancy on. He wanted the crutches, but both the Doctor and Nancy were set on him not walking for at least another day. The discussion went on for a while until he finally plopped down on the wheelchair. 

“Just a second,” Greg, the main operator at the radio station, mumbles as he presses the buttons. “Dustin, do you copy?” He talks into the speaker.

“Why Dustin?” Eddie asks, tilting his head. 

“Cause it’s only ever him messing around at the radio station.” Greg laughs.

“I’m surprised you don’t–”

“This is Dustin speaking, I thought I told you to use code names, Gregory. Over.” The sassy teenager’s voice cuts through the room. 

“Holy shit!” Eddie grins, nearly jumping from the wheelchair in excitement. He looks around the room, eyes locking with Steve’s for a moment. The brunette’s eyes soften, a small smile appearing on his face.

Nancy looks away from you, stepping towards Eddie, and she puts her hand on his shoulder. 

“There you go, man.” Greg chuckles, gesturing for him to take over. Eddie instantly moves closer. He clears his throat, unable to hold back his grin as he presses his finger on the red button. 

“Henderson. This is Eddie the banished speaking. I’m here with Harrington and Wheeler.” 

You turn around, facing the little group now huddling together. Nancy is standing behind Eddie while Steve is moving to his other side. All of them now smiling, looking relieved and… happy. 

“Holy shit… Oh! Holy shit!” Dustin shrieks, causing the three of them to pull back slightly at the volume. 

Aaron, who is standing in the doorway, chuckles in amusement. 

“Is that really you!? Eddie– Steve, Nancy!?” The teen shrieks once again. The excitement is heavy and clear in his voice, it makes you smile as well. 

“Yeah, we’re here.” Nancy chuckles into the speaker. 

“Oh my god, I gotta get Mike– hold on! You guys are with Aaron!?” 

Your eyes lock with the man mentioned, and he smiles at you, while Steve tenses up. 

“Yeah, we’re here with him.”

You are surprised to hear Steve talking this time. 

“Oh man, Steve. He’s got some great hair, you've got some competition now.” The teen cackles, infecting Eddie with it because the metalhead starts laughing. 

“He sure does.” 

But Steve isn’t amused in the slightest. He only shakes his head in response because he knows Eddie meant something else. 

“Hold on, Mike’s here.”

Nancy straightens her back, her smile now widening at the mention of her brother. You see the glassiness in her eyes when his voice sounds through the room, and you take that as your cue to leave, deciding to give the group some privacy. 

You might be a friend to Eddie, Nancy and… Steve. But their friends, their family, don’t know you, and they might never will, and you don’t want to intrude. 

You slip out of the room without being noticed. You brush past Aaron, who eyes you in curiosity. 

You can hear their voices, their happy laughter, even as you walk down the hallway of the police station. And you feel happy for them, you really do, but it makes you miss your own family, more than ever now. 

You open the door and step outside into the cold, breathing in the fresh air and almost sighing in relief at the silence. You walk over to the little bench by the tree and sit down. Hiding your hands in your pockets, you look up at the cloudy sky. 

Your head hurts a little from all your crying, and you hate how visible it is on your face. You saw the way Nancy looked at you, the way her blue eyes scanned your face in worry. 

You didn’t want her to worry, and you didn’t want her to ask and gladly she didn’t, but you know that conversation is still coming. 

The door opens and closes. You tilt your chin down and look at your boots, hoping, praying for it to not be Steve. You don’t want to talk to him. You don’t want to look at him right now. 

If only you knew that his eyes searched for your figure in the corner of the room after you left. 

“You alright?”

You almost sigh in relief from hearing Aaron’s voice instead. You look up at him, growing a little shy beneath his stare and the way he scans your face. 

Aaron is handsome, it’s hard not to see his attractiveness. You saw it the night before already, but his eyes are a much deeper blue in the daylight. 

“Yeah. I’m fine, just didn’t want to intrude.” You mumble, pointing towards the building. 

He nods in understanding, remembering that you are not from Hawkins, that you don’t know their friends. 

“You’re gonna freeze out here.” 

You shake your head, smiling at him, “it’s not that cold, I like the fresh air.” 

“Alright then.” Aaron chuckles, his eyes never leaving your face. “Mind if I sit with you?”

You tilt your head to the side, raising your eyebrows at him, “if you won’t freeze out here.”

He licks his lips, chuckling once more. He takes a step forward and sits down beside you. 

“Cowboys don’t freeze.” He jokes – you can tell by the way his lip curls. 

“Cowboys also don’t forget to wear their hats.” You point out, turning to face him, you study his profile. There is a tattoo on the side of his neck, behind his ear. It went unnoticed by you before. His hair is slightly curly, a little longer than Steve’s. He has a beard, one that makes him look older than he probably is. If you had to guess, you’d say he is thirty. 

His lips curl into a smile, a deep chuckling falling once more. 

“My mistake. I left it at the infirmary.” 

“Mhmm, I’m sure.” You smile and look away, eying the guard on the tower. You ignore the weight of his eyes on you, but your skin still heats up, and you don’t know why. 

“You ever come across a town like this on your journey?”

You shake your head as you think back to all the abandoned camps you have come across when you were still on your own. 

“No, only abandoned towns and military camps that were supposed to be a sanctuary for those seeking refuge.”

Aaron nods, his eyes taking in your every feature. 

“Did you seek refuge?”

“Not really, and if so, then only for a night or two. All I wanted was to get back to my family.”

“You never joined any groups?” 

You shake your head, staring at the snow on the ground. 

“Did you run into many bad people out there?”

You freeze a little. Your shoulders tense up at his question. A shudder runs down your spine when you think of the group you encountered only a few weeks back. They were nothing compared to the ones you have dealt with when you were all by yourself. 

Your reaction doesn’t go unnoticed by Aaron. He looks a little closer, watching the way the color drains from your eyes for a second. 

You take a deep breath, trying to shake the unnerving feeling off. You turn to face him, giving him a small smile and a shrug, “what is this, an interrogation?” You joke. 

He shakes his head, a breathy chuckle falls from his lips. 

“No, Darlin’. I won’t interrogate you, which is something we normally do here with newcomers.” 

You raise your eyebrows, “oh? Why didn’t you do that with us?”

“You’re friends of Hopper, I trust that man with my community.” He explains, shrugging. 

“Not me. Hawkins ain’t my home, I never met any of them,” you point out, tilting your head to the side as you squint your eyes. 

His blue eyes flicker with amusement, he chuckles softly. 

“Are ya sayin’ I’ve made a mistake?”

You shrug, “too late to fix it now, I’m already in these walls.”

Aaron chuckles, his eyes run up and down your body. 

“A real danger.” 

You snort at his words, knowing they aren’t meant seriously. You roll your eyes at him, shaking your head. 

“Better not to underestimate me, Aaron.” You whisper. 

Aaron raises his eyebrows at you, he nods. His eyes flicker with a sudden seriousness. 

“Oh no, I know.” He murmurs, looking into your eyes like he knows something. Like he knows what you did. Like he knows what you had to do to protect the people you love, to survive. But there isn’t judgment in his eyes, only an understanding like no other. 

Silence fills the space between you, and you look away when his stare becomes too much. You are not used to people looking at you like that, to men staring. 

“Were you here from the beginning?” You ask in curiosity. 

“Yeah, I helped build the walls. Been leading this place with Thomas since day one basically.” 

You are impressed by the way this place has been holding up, the way it’s been constant and improving over time in a world like this. You know how ugly it can get out there. How you can walk for days and not find shelter, food, weapons, let alone water, and that is if you’re lucky. If you aren’t, then you’ll run into trouble. 

A part of you wants to change the subject. Another part of you knows it’s useless because someone who looks at you the way he does, can see right through you, probably through own experience. Looking into his eyes tells you that he has seen some horrible things as well, but you can’t help but feel curious, knowing he’s been here since the beginning. 

“Have you ever been out there… really out there?”

Without knowing you all too well, he knows exactly what you are asking. 

“Yeah.” Aaron nods. Sympathy flashes in his eyes. He knows what kinda monsters really roam the streets. 

There is no judgment in his eyes, nothing of that sort. There is a mutual feeling that makes you feel understood. You don’t need to ask to find out that he’s done things too. Though there is a slight difference in your eyes’ – you are still struggling while he already accepted it. 

“How many?” 

Your breathing halts, and for a moment, you just stare at him, knowing exactly what he’s asking. 

How many people have you killed?

“Two…”

Two people. 

Two people don't sound like a lot, considering the number of bad ones you have run into, who wouldn’t have hesitated to slaughter you if you didn’t manage to escape beforehand. 

Two people. Two kills. Two brutal kills that haunt you in your nightmares now that your comfort isn’t with you anymore. 

He only nods slowly at you, looking down at his fingers as he leans forward with his elbows on his knees. 

“Did they deserve it?”

“Of course.” You didn’t even hesitate in your answer, which made Aaron smile a little. “What about you?”

“You askin’ bout my body count, sugar?” He jokes and you couldn’t help, the little giggle in your throat, feeling yourself flushing at the double meaning. Then, when silence invaded the two of you again, “Six after the apocalypse.”

Your eyes widened at that, staring at him. He turns his head, looking your way again.

“I was head nurse in the military. Before any of this happened, we had our own little battles and wars. My tent got raided by a spy, I did what I had to do.” 

You were wide-eyed as you stared at him, not really believing this man could kill. His hands just looked too gentle for it. 

“And the others?”

“They tried taking hostages from here so we would give in our supplies… and–” He leans back on the bench, his shoulder touching yours. He nodded towards a group of children that were playing on the swings. “Three of those children I saved from a truck.”

You winced at the thought of that. You didn’t want to even begin to think what would have happened if Aaron hadn’t saved those children. Where they would be right now. Two of them were girls even… You shook your head before you could continue your train of thought.

“So they deserved it.”

“Of course.” He mimicked your words before looking down at you and you couldn’t help giving a shy smile to him.

“Good.”

“Yeah, good.” He emphasized the word to you, maybe to make it stick into your brain. To make you finally believe that what you did was not wrong. It had to be done. Someone had to do it. It sucked it had to be you, and now you would carry the weight of their deaths in your hands, but you preferred to carry that weight, than the weight of whatever might have happened if you hadn’t killed them.

“Good…” You whispered again, feeling his gaze going deep into your mind, your body, and you felt yourself flushing all over, making you turn away. He straightened up, clearing his throat.

“So, any allergies I should know about for tonight?” He asked and you hummed for a second, thinking. 

“Nancy is allergic to celery.” You lied and Aaron squinted, leaning over to you.

“You don’t like celery?” You jumped in your place a bit, feeling the closeness. You turned your head a bit, acting stupid at his question.

“Nancy is allergic!” You exclaimed, trying to protect your lie, but Aaron was seeing right through you. Shit, were you acting like a child? Spoiled? You shouldn’t be picky in the apocalypse, but–

“Bad girls who don’t eat their vegetables, don’t get dessert, you know?” 

Your eyes were now wide as you felt heat all over your face, slowly turning to face him again. He was smirking, his blue eyes gazing into your own eyes, going back and forth. Your heart started picking up a pace, not sure how to feel about it. He was just joking. This wasn’t–

“No celery then… for Nancy’s sake.” He straightened up, moving away from you, a smirk on his lips. You were still frozen in place for a few seconds before recovering, giving him a shy smile. 

“Yeah, for Nancy’s sake.”

For just a few minutes, you forgot about everything that had happened. In this small interaction, everything and everyone else was gone. It felt nice. It felt refreshing. 

But unbeknownst to you, someone was watching you both from a window. Hazel eyes that were burning in anger, in sadness, in despair. A hand that was gripping tightly onto a curtain, almost to the point of ripping it off. 

And he wished this week would go by quickly.

-

“You’re yanking my hair!” 

“If you would stop making me change your shirt every two seconds, I wouldn’t!” Steve huffed, taking off the seventh shirt Eddie had tried on. “I am also not yanking anything, you’re being a baby.” 

“Sunshine wouldn’t treat me like this…” Eddie pouted, and Steve only glared, grabbing the button up that he had chosen from the very beginning, and Eddie had denied. 

“If someone is helping you get dressed, it’s gonna be me, a man.”

“You scared the girls will realize who the true Alpha out of the two of us is?” Steve shot Eddie a murderous glare, while the metalhead straightened up, getting in position for Steve to put on the shirt. 

“Or maybe, I didn’t want them to make fun of you, ever thought of that, Munson?” Eddie huffed as Steve helped him put on the button-up black shirt. It had long sleeves, so it was going to be warm on him. Eddie was happy to hear Steve joking again, even if a little, but he knew it was just a few moments before it all went back to how it was minutes before. Quiet.

Steve stood back up and started getting changed himself, finding a yellow sweater that almost reminded him to the one he had years ago. He put it on as Eddie buttoned himself up, his brown eyes glancing every now and then at the brown haired man.

“So… Aaron…”

“I don’t like him.” Steve immediately spat, and Eddie couldn’t help the chuckle escaping him, making Steve look at him, squinting. “What?”

“Is it because of the hair thing Dustin said?” Steve shook his head, fixing his hair in the mirror, “Or is it because he clearly wants to make a move on our Sunshine?”

Steve’s entire self froze in place. He gulped as he remembered how the two of you looked like on that bench. How you smiled at him the way you smiled at him weeks ago. No, it wasn’t that. He wasn’t flirting with you, not yet. It was his mind making up bullshit for him to feel horrible about. 

“He is not going to.” Eddie rolled his eyes at his response, fixing the sleeves of his shirt.

“You cannot forbid that.” And Steve’s anger started boiling up once again, his jaw clenching.

“I am not forbidding anything. It’s not– It wouldn’t be smart for him to do that–” And Eddie knew Steve was trying to find excuses. He knew his best friend was hurting to the point that he was trying not to think of the possibility of well… losing you.

“Steve, what the fuck happened, man? Why did you reject her?” Steve just stood there, looking at his reflection, wondering if it would give the answer for him. He opened his mouth, only to close it once again.

“It is how it should be.”

“No it isn’t–” “What do you know about it, Eddie? What do you know about relationships?” Eddie’s eyebrows frowned, squinting at his friend.

“I do know. I know you don’t believe I have a sweetheart, but fuck, hearing that shit hurts.” Steve’s eyes widened, turning to look at the metalhead who was looking down at his fingers.

“I’m– I’m sorry–” He felt guilty after that outburst of anger. He could only excuse it for his lack of sleep, for how irritable he was feeling over the past week, because his personal sunshine, his personal warm blanket, was gone. 

“Look, I know you’re mad, but I’m still your friend. You don’t get to hurt me when I’m trying to help you.” Eddie’s voice was sharp, and Steve sighed, shaking his head. He felt the lump forming in his throat as he tried to find the right words.

“I’m… I just know that it’s the right decision.” 

“And look what it cost you. Was it really?” His question made Steve’s eyes widen. His decision cost him his friendship with you. His decision cost him his health. His decision cost him–

“Are you two ready?” Nancy’s voice snapped the two men out of their little talk, looking towards the door. Eddie glanced at Steve once before wheeling towards the door, opening it. He let out a little whistle at seeing Nancy dressed in black pants and a long-sleeved blouse.

“Well, look at Wheeler! We trynna impress one of the cowboys here?” He smirked, and Nancy rolled her eyes, a little smile on her face.

“Not me.” And Steve felt his heart plummet to the pit of his stomach. She better not have meant what he thought she meant. Eddie wheeled out of the room, going into the living room after Nancy, and Steve slowly followed behind.

He could hear Eddie’s wolf whistling, and he was afraid of even looking up from the floor. See what the commotion was about, afraid that his worst fear would be right. Afraid that what he would see would wreck him even more.

“Nancy made me wear this!” He heard your whiny voice, making his blood start freezing in his veins.

“It was only in your set of clothes! Clearly someone wants you to wear it!” Steve heard you groan loudly, prompting him to finally look up, and just like he had suspected, the sight broke him more than before.

You were wearing a dress. A dress. Not a fancy cocktail one, but it was black, a little bit above the knee, and you were wearing tights. You put on a black leather jacket, probably not wanting to look too formal, but Steve could only stare at you from head to toe. His eyes kept roaming all over you, his heart hammering in his chest, his brain yelling at him, and possibly a little birdie was cussing him out in the small corner of his mind.

“I haven’t worn a dress in… fucking years. This feels wrong in the apocalypse.” You mumbled, but your words were not processing in his head at all. Eddie’s eyes were on you as you fixed the hem of your dress in the mirror, looking a bit uncomfortable, and then back at Steve, who was still wide-eyed, staring your way.

Nancy rolled her eyes as she walked towards you, trying to, once again, assure you that you looked amazing. You weren’t really listening to her. Your eyes caught sight of him in the mirror, and– He was looking at you with those eyes that gave you hope before. Those eyes that gave you that courage you cursed having in the first place. And now he is giving those eyes again. 

Why was he doing this? Why was he looking at you this way, making your heart jump and making those butterflies fly about in your stomach as if he had never rejected you? Why couldn’t he leave you alone? Why couldn’t he hide those eyes from you? Why does he have to fill your heart with hope again when your brain has already accepted defeat? 

Steve felt his butt being slapped suddenly, taking him out of his stupid, glaring down at the culprit of it. Eddie’s eyes hardened, giving a small nod towards your way, and Steve gulped, shaking his head. He wasn’t going to comment, he couldn’t–

“Guys, tell her she looks nice–” Nancy said with a defeated sigh and–

“You look beautiful.” 

The room filled with silence, and you frowned, slowly turning to face the man, the one who spoke. Steve stood there, shocked at how he could not stop the words from tumbling out of his mouth before he realized he was saying them. 

Your breath hitches in your throat and your already hopeful heart lurches inside your chest. Your mind is screaming at you not to fall back into this trap, but whoever listens to their brain when the heart is so much stronger?

Nancy looks at you, eyes soft and pitiful. You can’t talk, you can’t smile, you can’t even say thank you. 

Eddie looks between the both of you and he can’t help but feel annoyed at the vulnerable, soft look in Steve’s eyes. Why does he have to be so stubborn? Why can’t he just act upon his feelings? Why can’t he stop hurting both you and himself? 

A sigh falls from Eddie’s lips as he takes a look at your expression. Your eyes aren’t as puffy and red as they had been earlier, but if Steve keeps looking at you that way, it will quickly change again. 

“You look gorgeous, Sunshine.” Eddie smiles, tearing your attention off him. 

You look down at him. The painful gaze disappears slowly as a soft smile appears on your face. 

“Thank you, Eddie.” You whisper and look down at yourself. 

“Alright, are we ready to go?” Nancy mumbles, looking between all of you. 

You nod and take one last look in the mirror. You smooth down your dress once more, sighing at the sight you would have loved before.

“Yeah, I’m ready.” You tear your eyes away from the mirror and turn around, being the first to leave the room. 

Steve’s eyes follow you until you disappear into the hallway. He gulps down the lump in his throat and blinks himself out of his stupor. He feels a little lightheaded just from seeing you like that. He can’t even imagine the emotions he would feel if he got something more than just to see you in a pretty dress. It was the right decision to push you away. 

Nancy follows you out, leaving Steve to push Eddie’s wheelchair. 

“Let’s go, man.” 

Steve nods and steps behind him, grabbing the handles, and starts pushing. 

“Robin was right, you know? You’re a real dingus.”

Steve doesn’t reply to Eddie’s comment. He had already heard that insult in his head for days and days since rejecting you. He can only sigh. 

The walk to Aaron’s house is spent in silence. Eddie makes a few comments here and there about the houses in the neighborhood, saying how much nicer some people probably live in the apocalypse than they did before. He certainly didn’t grow up on a street with pretty houses, porches that are covered in lights, surrounded by plants and trees. He could have that if he didn’t have people waiting for him in California, if he stayed here. 

“California is probably much nicer.” Steve murmurs after Eddie voices out how he would love to live in a place like this. 

“Probably, yeah. I do kinda love this vibe here though.” 

Nancy snorts as she walks beside him, looking down with an amused smile. 

“What vibe?”

Eddie shrugs, looking past her and over to you, he grins. “This whole western theme, the cowboy thing. I’m kind of starting to get it, Sunshine.” 

A smile tugs at your lips. You look over at him, crossing your arms over your chest to shield yourself from the cold. 

“Yeah?”

Eddie nods. “In another life I’ll be a cowboy.”

Nancy laughs, shaking her head at her best friend. 

“Why not in this one?” 

Eddie frowns, scoffing. “One can’t just become a cowboy, you’re either born with it or you’re a pretender. Aaron is a real cowboy.” 

Steve tenses up behind him, gripping the handles of the wheelchair tighter, he clenches his jaw and looks away. 

“Me? I’m a rockstar, Wheeler. I was born with that.” 

You and Nancy both giggle, sharing amused glances. 

“Well, when we get to California, you will have to play with your band, Eddie. I’ve never been to a heavy metal gig before!” 

Steve looks over at you. He doesn’t know why he feels such relief from hearing your words. It’s been clear that you and your family are coming with them and yet, he feels relieved to hear that your plans haven’t changed. He didn’t even realize how anxious he was about the possibility of you parting ways with them once getting back home. 

“Oh, Sweetheart! You’ll get the best concert of your life!”

“I’m counting on that, Eddie.” You giggle. 

Steve breathes in sharply when Aaron’s house comes into vision. He really isn’t looking forward to this evening at all, knowing he will have to endure watching the man flirt with you the way he probably did when you were sitting outside with him. 

He doesn’t know what you have talked about with him and he isn’t sure if he even wants to know. It was bad enough watching him make you laugh. It made that sour taste on his tongue even worse. 

“Will you carry me up the stairs, Wheeler? You’re my wonder woman.” Eddie cackles as he looks at the porch steps. 

“It’s just three steps, I think your other leg is perfectly healthy.” She rolls her eyes at him, yet she is already leaning down to help as Steve leans down on his other side. He wraps his arms around their shoulders, grunting as they help him get up. 

“Careful.” Steve warns him as Eddie makes the first step. He looks down at his feet, making sure that Eddie doesn’t put pressure on his injured leg. It’s a heartwarming sight to see him care for his friend like that. It makes your heart beat a little stronger. 

You force your eyes away from him and look down. You reach for the wheelchair once they make it up to the porch. 

“I got it, Sunshine–”

“It’s fine, it’s not heavy.” You mumble as you carry it up the stairs and place it down behind Eddie. 

“Thanks, Sweets.” Eddie says softly as he carefully plops down, grunting again. “Damn, I never thought I’d have to use one again.” 

“Only for a couple of days,” Nancy mumbles, giving him a reassuring smile. She was the one who took care of him after he almost died in the upside down. He had to use the wheelchair for weeks, and he hated it. “You can use crutches in a few days, you’ll be fine.”

Steve puts his hand on Eddie’s shoulder, squeezing it. 

Eddie gives him a tight lipped smile, “alright, knock on the damn door before I freeze to death out here.” 

Steve sighs and nods, “alright…” He lifts his hand and knocks on the door. He takes a deep breath, bracing himself for a long evening. 

He glances back at you, to find you looking at him already, but you quickly turn your gaze away. Looking down shyly. 

The door opens, and Steve almost sighs in relief when it’s Thomas’s face that greets them. He knows he can’t avoid him, he was the one who made the invite after all but he’ll take every second he doesn’t have to look at him making eyes at you. 

“Good evening,” Thomas smiles, shaking Steve’s hand. The older man smiles at you before he takes in the new faces, Eddie and Nancy who he hasn't met yet. “Eddie and Nancy, right?” 

“Yes sir.” Eddie grins, leaning forward to shake his hand. The metalhead is a little surprised by the Texan accent. 

You’re too busy looking down at Eddie to notice the awestruck look on Nancy’s face as she stares at the man before her. 

“I’m Thomas, you can call me Tommy though.” He waves his hand, smiling between them too, before he grabs Nancy’s hand, giving her a nod and a softer smile. “Come on in, it’s cold out here.”

Nancy pushes the wheelchair inside, walking past the man who is looking between all of you with a kind smile on his face. 

Steve lifts his arm up and gestures for you to step inside. You take a deep breath and brush past him, greeting the older man once more. Your breath hitches in your throat when you feel Steve’s hand on your lower back. 

“You live here too?” Eddie asks Tommy, looking back at him. 

“Yeah. Me, Aaron, and my brother. This house has enough room for all of us, that way we can also leave the other houses empty for families and newcomers.”

Eddie nods, “makes sense.”

You look around, taking in the western themed decoration around the hallway, though you are still coming down from the emotions he filled you with once again. His touch lingered still even after letting go of your back. You try to focus on anything but him behind you. 

The smell lingering in the house, coming from the kitchen, is mouth watering. Your stomach suddenly feels emptier than ever, making you forget the last time you had a warm home cooked meal. 

Tommy leads you into the living room, where the dinner table is set up already, filled with plates, wine, and whiskey glasses. Country music is playing, and the fireplace is lit, casting an orange glow over the room. 

Footsteps echo from the hallway, and you turn around to see Aaron walking into the room. A kitchen towel is slung over his shoulder. He is wearing a dark flannel, the top buttons undone, chest hair, and a silver chain around his neck on display. Your cheeks heat up at the sight of him, not being able to stop your eyes from scanning him. 

You see Tommy pulling the chair back for Nancy to sit, and she thanks him, sitting down next to Eddie, still in his wheelchair, but already sitting at the table. Steve waited for you to choose a seat so he could pull the chair for you, but a deep southern voice made all of you turn again to the man who just came into the room.

“Good evening, folks. Eddie, you lookin’ sharp.” You could see Aaron’s eyes scanning your friend’s face and limbs, as if doing a medical inspection from afar. Eddie nodded with a smile, pulling his hair back from his shoulders.

“I was forced to put on this button up.” Aaron nodded, his head turning to face Nancy now.

“You look great, Nancy.” Steve froze up a bit at how friendly he was being. Way too friendly. Way too friendly for someone who knew you all for only two days. Your eyes met Nancy’s, who only turned her head a bit with a smile on her face. 

“Thank you.” Steve winced a bit when Aaron turned to finally face him. He didn’t want a forced compliment, didn’t need one. But the blue eyed man didn’t care, shooting him a smile.

“Knew that sweater was your size. Told ya, Tommy.” Thomas made a mocking noise as he sat down in front of Eddie. 

“Yeah, uh… Thanks.” He was about to speak again, but Aaron quickly interrupted.

“Well, sit down now, I’ll bring the food in in a second.” Your eyes looked at the available seats, one next to Tommy, the other two were at the heads of the table. Before you could take the seat next to Tommy’s, one of the head of the table’s chairs was pulled back. “You’ll sit here, Sugar.”

“Oh? Um… alright?” You questioned. Steve raised an eyebrow in question as he clenched his fists, begrudgingly sitting down next to Tommy, but gladly, he was still next to you. Your eyes met Aaron’s as you sat down, and he chuckled at your tone.

“It’s just so I can see you better. Would be a waste to miss such a view during this night.” Your entire face heated up at the blunt compliment. Direct. Straight to the point. No dancing around. You were not used to it. You didn’t know how to respond, staring at him as you were pulled into the table.

Steve’s eyes hardened as he gripped the edges of his chair, his knuckles going white in rage, in pure anxiety and nerves. He didn’t feel hungry, just nauseous. Aaron patted the back of your chair, before heading back into the kitchen. Your eyes were still a bit lost at the compliment, looking down at the plate to then hear a whistle coming from Eddie’s side, and that made you look up.

“Oh, she is flustered!” He joked, and you could only shake your head, trying to deny how weird it felt to have someone compliment you like this.

“It was just a compliment! You all got one too!” You tried to defend, but Nancy giggled, taking a sip of her glass of water, murmuring into the glass.

“We weren’t put on a display case like a nobel prize.” She joked, and you shook your head, looking away. Steve was staring at you, inspecting your expressions, the way you reacted, the way you moved, the way you talked. He was looking for any indication that would show him you disliked it. He was looking for reassurance, knowing it was selfish. Knowing he shouldn’t. But his heart had a mind of its own.

“Always the charming one. He was the one who picked out the dress you are wearing now, you know.” Tommy said, pouring himself a glass of wine and offering to Steve who was frozen at the comment. Aaron picked that outfit for you because he wanted to see you like this. He couldn’t help but feel a little angry. You weren’t a barbie doll. You weren’t sure of wearing that dress before, even if it looked really nice on you, the most beautiful thing Steve’s seen in years.

But he wasn’t prepared for you to smile, a soft voice coming off your lips.

“I ought to thank him later.” 

Steve immediately let Tommy fill his glass of wine, and Eddie took notice of that. It only took four sips, and he had downed half the wine in his glass, earning him a chuckle from the man beside him. Steve cleared his throat, looking at his glass and back at the older man.

“I just– I haven’t had a good wine in some time.” He was lying. He wasn’t a wine guy, but he didn’t want to look nervous, or that he was drinking his anxiety away. He had to keep himself together. He had to. 

“Tommy, don’t be a lazy ass and help me bring in the food for our guests!” You all heard Aaron yell from the kitchen, and Tommy grunted heavily, getting up from his chair. 

“You’re making an old man work!” He complained, winking towards the lot of you, and walking towards the kitchen.

“You are 48, you are far from it!” You giggled at the loud voice as Tommy disappeared into the kitchen. Your eyes found Eddie who was wiggling his eyebrows your way, making you flush again and sigh, trying to look away. You felt your heart beating in your chest, and there were knots in your belly. You didn’t know why, but you were nervous.

“He’s 48!? Shit.” Nancy exclaimed in a whisper, grabbing the wine and pouring herself a glass, making your eyes widen. You heard Steve snort a bit, coughing into his fist.

“Please, tell me you didn’t–”

“I thought he was in his late 30’s!” She confessed, and you couldn’t help the fit of giggles that came over you. You’ve never seen Nancy interested in anyone, and Tommy was a handsome man, but you liked them a little younger than almost half a century. Steve couldn’t stop himself from smiling at the sound of your laughter, and then Eddie joined. You were all giggling at the table like high schoolers, only for the two men to walk in again with plates in their hands. 

“What are we laughing about?” Aaron asked with a smile, and you all cleared your throats, sitting straight up again. You looked at the man, shaking your head.

“Nothing, nothing.” You tried defending, but he squinted, leaning a bit downwards towards your face, getting closer. His cologne was bitter, wooden, with a hint of leather behind it. A scent that was making it impossible not to feel drawn in.

“Liars get punished, sweets.” You felt a shiver running down your spine, his eyes just gazing into yours with something you’ve never experienced before… or maybe you have. Or you thought you did. Blue eyes that were gazing down at you, the same way hazel ones did before. Hazel ones that still do.

Yet, they meant different things, didn’t they?

Aaron straightened up, putting a plate in front of Steve, and the brown haired man was still fixated on your face. His eyebrows were furrowed into a sad frown, a worried one. Only the clinking of the porcelain of the plates being placed cut him out of his thoughts. He looked down to see a juicy steak, with some boiled potatoes and steamed vegetables on the side. 

Aaron placed the other plate for you, your stomach growling at the sight of fresh meat, fresh vegetables, fresh everything. Even the spices used were fresh. It was steaming, and it smelled as delicious as it looked. 

“No celery.” Aaron said, and winked your way as you gave him a shy giggle that made Steve’s skin itch. No celery? You didn’t like celery? He didn’t know that. So why did Aaron know it? Tommy placed the plates he brought in front of Nancy and Eddie, and the metalhead was salivating at the sight.

“Eddie, wait for the hosts to sit down.” Nancy said, her eyes locked in on the steak and you were sure she was saying it more to herself than to Eddie. The metalhead groaned as Tommy chuckled, going back to take his seat as Aaron went back to get their last plates.

Everyone was hungry except for one person. He didn’t know if he could eat, even if his stomach grumbled; he didn’t know if it was because of nerves or hunger. He was afraid of eating and throwing it back up. 

When Aaron returned, he placed a plate in front of Tommy before sitting on the other end of the table, all across from you. He poured himself a glass of wine before raising it up towards all of you.

“May your stay here be relaxing.” His eyes were trained on yours, and you mimicked him, raising your own glass after filling it up with some wine. The rest followed, giving reassuring smiles, except for Steve. He could barely manage a tug on the lips. Once the first sip was taken, you all finally dug in, and the first to yell was–

“HOLY FUCKING SHIT!” You honestly expected those words from Eddie, who moaned at the first bite of his steak, not from proper Nancy Wheeler. You were all wide eyed, except for the two hosts on the table who just watched her devour her meat. 

“A woman who knows how to eat.” Tommy chuckled, and you were still stunned at seeing Nancy eating like that, and it was after the fourth massive bite that she stopped to apologize.

“I’m so sorry, I just– Haven’t had fresh meat in a while, and I love meat.” Steve chuckled at that, not surprised to hear that. Nancy always ate protein in her meals before, and if it had meat even better. Tommy gave her a nod of approval, a smile on his face.

“Well, we have our farms here. We breed our own cows, chickens, pigs… But I do love a good hunt. Rabbit meat is exquisite.” You could almost giggle at how Nancy’s ears perked up, swallowing her food down.

“Well, if we are staying for a week, maybe– You can take me out hunting with you… sir.” Eddie choked on his potato, trying to cough it out, not having expected Nancy to make a move like that. You were wide eyed, cutting into the steak, side eying Steve to see if he was listening to the same thing you were, and by his amused glance, you knew you heard right.

“Oh, don’t call me sir. Makes me feel old.”

“Trust me, you don’t look old.” Aaron couldn’t help it, putting his fist over his mouth as his shoulders shook a bit at Tommy’s stunned face from Nancy’s obvious advances. Fuck, you had to keep it together. You could feel your laughter wanting to get out of your mouth, but you took deep breaths in, straightening up as you took a bite of your steak. 

“Sorry for uh, Tommy’s brother, Paxton. He has night guard duty today.” Aaron explained, trying to change the subject for his friend’s sake. Eddie finally recovered and was eating an asparagus which he never thought he would, with delight.

“So you are like… The big three?” He asked, making you raise an eyebrow in confusion. Aaron chuckled, but then made a somewhat nod with a shrug.

“We are all like… heads, leaders of an area. Tommy is good with hunting, but he is also very good with the administration and organization of supplies. I am good in the medical field, but also good in the exploration team. Then, Paxton is good at fighting, but he is the one organizing the rotating teams for the day and night watches.” 

You were surprised to hear how well organized this community was, and sure, Tommy might be the leader, as Aaron said, but the three of them were the ones people went to in need.

“Wow, that’s… amazing.” You said out loud, making Aaron look up and give a smile your way. You felt a small kick against your right ankle, and Steve straightened up with a wince.

“Sorry.” Aaron’s eyes drifted to the brown haired man as he took a sip of his wine. He inspected Steve, only for Tommy to interrupt his thoughts.

“So, Aaron told me here you all know the Hawkins crew! Those boys were the ones who fixed and taught us about our radios. We might be good at many things, but we lack in the technological area.” He winced a bit at his words, and Nancy giggled, wiping the corner of her mouth with the tissue.

“Yeah, I always called my brother a nerd. But, thanks to him and his nerdy friends, I really don’t know if… many of us would be alive by now.” She expressed, and you couldn’t help but notice the saddened yet relieved expression that covered her features. 

“Oh, which one of those is your brother?” Tommy asked and Nancy straightened up once again.

“Mike, then the other is Holly.” Tommy nodded with a knowing expression as if deep in thought, turning to look at Aaron.

“Karen was the mom, right?” Nancy winced at the mention of her mom, and you knew it was because it would give out her age to the man before them. A man, that, from what you could gather, Nancy was trying to flirt with. Aaron went deep in thought, squinting a bit to then nod in agreement. “Let me tell you, you don’t look your age.”

Eddie, once again, choked on his food. He was trying to eat in peace, but the conversations were not helping at all. Aaron chuckled, patting his back gently as Nancy smiled, straightening up.

“I’ve been told.” You noticed how the older man’s eyes lingered on Nancy’s form as she began eating again, and you held in a whistle as you went back to your food. Steve was trying not to choke on his own potatoes as he tried to silence the room around him.

“And, are any of those other people your family?” Aaron asked as he took a bite of his own food, looking at Steve, making him talk. He gulped, taking a sip of his wine before speaking, hoping his tone would not give away his nerves.

“Uh… no. We all consider each other family.”

“From your worry over Dustin, I would have thought he was your brother.” A wave of nostalgia washed over Steve, and you could see his eyes glistening a bit as a small smile formed on his lips.

“Well… like I said… we consider each other family.” Eddie then nodded, turning to talk to Aaron.

“But, I am the most likable brother. Steve was the favorite until I arrived.” Steve squinted at his friend, shaking his head.

“Favorite?” 

“Oh yeah, you think Henderson didn’t tell me how jealous you were that you hung out with me?” At that, Nancy interrupted.

“Yeah, Steve, you were jealous.” Steve rolled his eyes, shaking his head.

“I wasn’t.”

“In Dustin’s words, you called me older and cooler.” Eddie mentioned, and the bantering kept going. You listened, wanting to include yourself in their conversation but feeling slightly detached from it. They talked about their friends, their family, knowing they were waiting for them. That is why they could joke about the past.

But you didn’t have a way to contact your family. You knew your brother was smart, but not that smart to build a radio station from scratch. You knew your family was alive, yet–

“What about you, Sunshine?” You looked up to look at Steve, thinking it was him the one who called out to you, but his eyes were looking towards the other end of the table, almost surprised. 

You followed the gaze, seeing blue eyes staring at you with a comforting smile.

“Sorry, I heard them call you that.” He apologized and you gulped, shaking your head slowly as if saying you didn’t mind. Eddie had called you that a few times but… It was only Steve who called you Sunshine, all the time.

“I– Uh… I mentioned that my family is in Nevada, probably waiting for me, hurdled up.” You tried to joke around and Steve’s head turned your way and then he licked his lips, looking back at Aaron.

Aaron nodded, he knows that part already but you haven’t talked much about your family yet. 

“We’re going there to get her parents and brother, then we are all going to California.” Aaron’s eyes met Steve’s, and the fire in the fireplace crackled a little bit. You felt some tension passing by, looking in between the two men. Aaron tilted his head, his soft smile never leaving his lips.

“Is that so?”

You felt nervous, for whatever reason. You gulped, looking at Nancy and Eddie who were also looking back and forth Steve and Aaron and then your eyes found some horse reins, hung on the wall behind Nancy. You cleared your throat, catching their attention again.

“I’ve always wanted to ride a horse. Never had the chance to do so.” Aaron raised an eyebrow in amusement and then Eddie chuckled, taking a sip of his water.

“Yeah, our Sunshine here loves all western stuff. I bet this place is her Disneyland.” You rolled your eyes trying to hide your embarrassment, looking away. Aaron chuckled, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned back on his chair.

“Really, now? And you love western stuff and never rode a horse?”

“My mom is terrified of them… So, obviously, she never let us near them.” You commented with a giggle, taking a sip of your wine as Aaron’s eyes never left you.

“Tell you what. How about you and I go horseback riding one of these days?” Steve’s entire body grew a cold sweat, his fingertips going a little numb. You two? Alone? No. He couldn’t be trusted. You for sure would not accept that so easily–

“I would love that! Are the horses friendly with strangers?"

His eyes found your excited smiling face, and his heart felt like it was crumbling to the pit of his stomach. He looked down at his food, noticing he had eaten only half, or even less, compared to what everyone else ate. He felt sick. He felt pained.

"Sure thing. But Athena, our female, she loves to be ridden by pretty girls. She won't let you fall." Aaron says, smirking when he notices how flustered you got by his comment.

Steve couldn’t stop himself from putting a hand on the back of your chair, an action you grew so accustomed to, that you didn’t notice it as you began eating once again. He could feel Nancy’s eyes on him, but he didn’t care. He didn’t care, but letting this man know… letting him know what?

“You two dating?” Everyone looked at Tommy, wondering who he was talking to, and then he pointed towards you and Steve with his fork. Only then, you notice the hand on the back of your chair. Indignation rose up in your throat, gulping as your jaw clenched. Steve didn’t even say anything, and you couldn’t believe him. Why isn’t he the one responding when he was the one who rejected you?

You cleared your throat, looking down at the last bits of your food.

“No, we’re just partners.” 

And Steve felt his entire self break down at that second. He became void. Numb. He could hear everyone else talking, and if at some point he was talked to, hopefully they didn’t think he ignored them on purpose. He just wasn’t there. 

He felt empty. There was laughter, but the smile never reached his face. There were stories, but none came out of his mouth. There were plans, yet he could not register a single one. He felt his chest being compressed, as if someone was doing a vacuum seal around him, and he couldn’t stop it.

He didn’t even register the moment you all got up and bid goodbye to Aaron and Tommy. He saw Nancy talking to Tommy privately for a bit, but his eyes went back to you. You were with Aaron and Eddie, talking about Eddie’s health, but Steve’s ears were ringing. Thrumming. Banging. Stinging.

When you all got to the house, Nancy helped Eddie in, and before you walked in, the cold air hit his lungs again. He took a deep breath in, and his hand shot out to grab your wrist. 

Your breath got caught in your throat, and you turned to look at Steve, who looked as lost as he was at the dinner table. His breathing was heavy, labored, the foggy breath coming out of his mouth thanks to the cold. 

“Partners? We’re not even friends?” He asked, gulping heavily as he waited for your answer. He feared it. He feared you. He feared losing you. You doomed him, completely, and you hadn’t even got a clue of it.

But instead of words, you ripped your hand away from him, and you gave him a shake of your head. You didn’t even speak to him. He couldn’t read you, not anymore. Your smile was gone. Your joy with him left you. Your warmth left him.

And you entered the cabin, leaving him out there in the cold. He grabbed onto his head as he tried to gather himself, try to stitch his broken parts together again, because– He couldn’t blame you for what he felt. He couldn’t blame Aaron. He couldn’t blame anyone else.

Only himself. 

And so, he should learn to live without you. He has to. He had to. But how could he? How was he going to be able to do that–

When your smile was the first thing he looked forward to every single morning.

☀︎

well well well... poor Steve but he set himself up didn't he...?

also also Tommy... this is Tommy.

taglist: @prettyboyeddiemunson @pretentious-blonde @thecreelhouse @tvserie-s-world @thesickestqrmydcll @crispystarfishhottub @sophal22 @definitionwanderlust @talkativecarnation @mysticalwoolenfroglegs @ariesandwolves @mortqlprojections @sattlersquarry @sherrylyn0628 @purpleeyeswithgoldensparkles @micheledawn1975 @keepingitlokiii @littleromanoff2005 @sunshine-mrk @xxladymjxx @bananasplits-world @myharrington

[andvys]

The edges of your soul (I haven't seen yet) ⭐︎ chapter twelve

⭐︎ You're a bandit like me. Eyes full of stars

Warnings: 18+, minors don't interact! hurt/comfort, grumpy x sunshine, post apocalypse au, mentions of death, mentions of killing, mentions of sex, alcohol consumption

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Word count: 15k

Author's note: Here it is friends! I've been so excited for this chapter (and I hope you will be too, this has some good stuff). I struggled so much writing this, I have no idea why, it's literally one of my favorite moments in this story so far! But here it is now, and I wouldn't have done it without @hellfire--cult , she wrote a good portion of this (aka all the fun stuff between Steve and Sunshine hehe) so please give her some love ♡

series masterlist ⭐︎ previous chapter

☀︎

“We can cut through Idaho, Colorado, or we can drive straight through Utah.” Eddie explains with his hand. His eyes are focused on the map before him, eyebrows furrowed and eyes concentrated. 

Steve is standing beside him with his arms crossed, nodding as he thinks of what road seems the best. 

“Wasn’t Colorado crawling with infected when the news was still airing?” Steve mumbles. 

“When was that, Steve?” Eddie shrugs at his friend. “A year or two back? The cold temperatures have either wiped out the infected or they have moved down south by now.” 

Steve nods his head, “yeah, you might be right. What do you think, Nance?” 

Nancy isn’t focusing on the map, she isn’t even listening to them. Her eyes are set on you. You are sitting on the steps of the RV, your head leaning against the door frame. You are staring into blank space, fiddling with the loose string on your flannel. 

Someone who doesn’t know you would think that you are just enjoying the sunlight kissing your face, but it’s not that; she wishes it was that. You are quiet, and you have been quiet for the past few days now since the attack. She understands it, but she is concerned about you, scared that you are losing yourself and that there is nothing she or the guys can do about it. 

Steve’s eyes follow, and his face only falls further. He has been trying to get through to you for days now but it’s like your mind stayed there. You don’t talk much, you barely eat, and your lips are in a permanent straight line. He knows you need time and that you aren’t gone completely because even with your mental absence and your silence, you still let him hold your hand, you still sleep in the same bed with him, you still let him hold you at nights – it became a regular thing, after that day especially. 

Steve needs you close, he needs to feel you in his arms, he needs to know you are there, or else he can’t breathe, he can’t sleep, he can’t function. You are on the same page and, without much debating, you settled on spending every night, every perimeter check, every run into towns together. He knows that he is now going against everything he promised to himself when he first met you, but he can’t help it, he can’t help the way he feels about you now, the way he needs you around. 

He misses your voice, even more so, he misses your laughter and your smile. 

“A few weeks, give or take, and we’re in Nevada. That is, if we don’t get into too much trouble on the road. I’m talking weather conditions, blocked roads, hoards of infected–”

“You just said they moved south.” Nancy frowns, not looking away from you just yet. “Now you are talking about… hoards?” She squints her eyes. 

“Probably, yeah. I think they moved south, but I can’t know for sure, Wheeler. There might be a hoard gathering somewhere – which we’ll deal with, no problem. There also might be more demo shit monsters out there which we had the luck of avoiding so far. We don’t know what kind of trouble we’ll run into the rest of the road. Maybe we’ll even have to lay low for a while,” Eddie exclaims, throwing his hands up. “The winters are brutal out here, we’re lucky if we don’t get snowed in.”

“We will get snowed in at some point. I was stuck in a cabin for two weeks last year, I almost starved and froze to death.” 

Your voice catches everyone by surprise. Eddie and Steve glance at one another before they look at you. You are still staring straight ahead. 

Your words make Steve’s heart ache in his chest, even more so when he thinks about how he treated you when he first met you. How awful he was to you, how much he wanted you to leave, push you out the gates where you would have been all alone again, fighting for survival on your own, fighting the kind of people you have killed for him. 

“It’s gonna take two months or more until we get there.”

“It doesn’t matter how long it will take, Sweetheart.” Eddie says softly. “What matters is that we’ll get there and we will. You’ll see your family again!” He tries to lift you up, to make you see the point in this trip again. 

You will see them again, yeah. 

But what will they think of you after what you have done? 

Eddie notices the way your shoulders tense at his words, the way you suck in a sharp breath, the way your eyebrows furrow as you stare at the ground now. You suddenly get up and move forward. 

“I’m gonna check for more supplies,” you murmur as you walk towards the gas station that Eddie and Nancy have already gathered supplies at. 

Steve follows you without a second thought. Eyes filled with concern and body tense just like yours, “Sunshine–”

“I need a second.” You mumble without looking back. “Just one second…” 

One second to yourself. 

Steve’s face is etched with pain. Sadness flashing across his features, twinkling in his eyes. He halts in his tracks, staring at you in deflation. He wants to follow you, knowing exactly what is troubling you. He so badly wants to take you into his arms and comfort you, but he can’t, not when you are like this. 

Both Eddie and Nancy take a look at him. Pity flashes in both their features, he doesn’t have to look at them to see it. He hates it, hates the way they can see right through him. 

“Steve–”

“It’s fine, Nancy.” Steve grumbles as he takes a few steps back again, he leans against the side of the RV and crosses his arms over his chest. 

She sighs and looks back down at the map before her. Giving you the space that you need, giving him the space as well. 

But Eddie stares at the door you have shut behind you, watching you through the dirty window as you mindlessly walk around the store. His jaw clenches, not in anger at you but in anger for how you feel about yourself. He sees the way you avoid mirrors, the way you stare at your hands for a little too long. He can practically feel the horror you feel towards yourself. 

“I’ll talk to her.” 

Steve pushes himself off the RV again, eyes widening as he watches Eddie stomp after you. 

“Eddie–”

But Eddie doesn’t listen, and he flips his hand up, telling him to stay there. He opens the door and walks inside, not bothering to look back. He closes the door softly, not wanting to startle you. 

He is careful not to step on any broken cans or boxes that fell from the shelves as he looks for you. He walks past the aisles, looking into every one for you. He furrows his eyebrows, wondering where you had disappeared to so quickly in the second he had looked away. 

He searches for a moment until the sound of shuffling lures him into what once used to be an office or a break room. He finds you there, standing in front of a table with your back turned to him. You are holding something in your hand, staring down at it. 

Eddie walks inside, clearing his throat so he doesn’t startle you. You don’t budge. You stand still. He takes a deep breath before he looks over your shoulder and his shoulders tense, a frown appears on his face. 

A mixture of sadness and anger creeps up inside of him. 

“Sweetheart,” he whispers as he steps even closer and takes the note from your hand. He glances down at it one more time. He skims over it a second time: ‘If you turn into a monster is it still you inside?’ Eddie crumbles it up and throws it on the ground. 

He doesn’t know whether to pull you into his arms or to scold you. 

He wants to do both. 

Eddie wraps his hand around your bicep and he turns you around, forcing you to face him. 

“Look at me.” 

You hesitate but look up at him after taking a deep breath. 

Eddie’s gaze softens when he sees the vulnerability in your eyes. His shoulders slump and he sighs. 

“Sweetheart,” he whispers as he moves his hand up to your shoulder. “Don’t even think about it, don’t let your mind go there. You are not a monster.” 

You don’t regret what you did, not in the slightest. You would do it again and again if it meant saving your friend, if it meant saving him. You would do anything for your friends. You would do anything to keep him safe. 

“I murdered them–” 

“Monsters. You killed monsters.” He gives you a pointed look, trying to get it through that thick head of yours. “Do you think that’s what we think of you now? That you are some kind of monster too?” 

Your silence answers his question. 

Eddie shakes his head wildly, gripping your shoulder tighter. 

“You did what you had to do, what we couldn’t do but don’t… don’t think for one second that I, that we wouldn’t do the same for you. I would have ripped those bastards apart one by one to save you, and I know that Steve would have done the same.” 

Your eyes soften at his words. You know he is telling the truth, the look in his eyes is so determined and truthful. 

“You saved him, you saved us. I don’t care how you did it, you could have fed them to the infected – hell, I would have helped you drag them to their dinner table. But stop being so hard on yourself, stop living in there,” he taps your forehead. “I know what that evil part of your brain is trying to tell you and I can promise you that it’s all bullshit, okay? You’re a fucking saviour, Sweets. You are fucking hero.”

The tension on your face disappears little by little. Your lips start curling up a bit. 

“You’re not a monster, we don’t think that about you, and your family won’t either. Hell, your brother will be proud to have such a powerhouse as a sister.” 

A smile tugs on the corner of your lip, and you can’t help but chuckle, “stop that now…” 

Eddie feels successful when your laughter fills the room again. He squeezes your shoulder, smiling at you. 

“It’s nothing but the truth. You’re strong, really fucking strong. This world hasn’t gotten to you in all that time you’ve been out there by yourself. Don’t let it get to you now, not over some pieces of shits who had it coming – god knows how many potential victims you have saved.”

You nod at his words. You know he is right. He is right about them, they deserved it, every single one of them. 

“I don’t regret what I did,” you shrug, “I just… I didn’t know that I could turn into this.” 

“There’s a different side to everyone, Sunshine.” Eddie speaks softly and carefully. “Sometimes we have to resort to it… to save and protect the ones we love.” 

His eyes flash with something else, a distant memory that never strays away from him, always reminding him of the night he protected everyone too, the scars on his skin a forever reminder. 

You nod at his words, knowing that he is right about everything. 

“You sacrificed a little part of yourself… that doesn’t mean that you are lost completely, Darling.” He whispers as his eyes flicker to the forming scar on your cheekbone. 

Warmth spreads through you, and you feel the kind of comfort you always got from your brother whenever things got tough. He is like him – in a lot of ways. 

“Like you did…” You whisper, knowing about the night he almost gave his life to save everyone. 

His throat bobs as he nods. His dark eyes flashing with horrors that night tortured him with. 

“I’m sorry, Eddie.” You whisper, knowing how painful it must be to think back to that night. 

He gives you a smile, a soft and comforting one. 

“I’m sorry too,” he mumbles and pulls you closer, wrapping his arms around. He tugs you into his comforting embrace. Giving you a warm, big hug. 

A sigh falls from your lips as you close your eyes and wrap your arms around him, squeezing his waist. 

Eddie is a little surprised that you hugged back so quickly, but a satisfied smile appears on his face. He loves hugs. Unfortunately, Nancy hates them and Steve… is well Steve. He only allows you to get close nowadays. 

You stay in his embrace for a while, only now realizing how much you needed it, how much you needed the reassurance and the comforting words of someone who is now like a brother to you. 

“You smell really nice.” Eddie blurts out after a long few minutes of silence. 

You furrow your brows as an amused smile makes its way on your face. 

Eddie sniffs at your hair causing you to giggle, especially when you pull away and he follows. 

“What’s that scent? Is that raspberry?” Eddie questions, tilting his head to the side. “How do you smell so good?” 

You push him away with a giggle, rolling your eyes at his genuine curiosity. 

“I wash my hair? Duh.” 

“I wash mine too, smarty pants.” He rolls his eyes at you, poking your cheek. “Mine never smells like that.” 

“Gotta find yourself a new shampoo then.” You shrug and look down, blushing a little. You always made sure that you look decent, that you don’t smell, which isn’t always easy in a world like this considering you sometimes run out of water and have to resort to wet wipes until you find a lake to fill up your water tanks again and Eddie tends to use way too much of your body wash. 

But you always do your best to stay clean, to smell nice – especially, especially now that you share a bed with Steve and somehow always end up in his arms or even on top of him. 

You may or may not have a secret bottle of perfume hidden in one of your boxes. 

He hums, crossing his arms over his chest as he eyes you slowly. 

“It’s not the shampoo, is it?” He squints his eyes as a smirk tugs at his lips. “You got some sort of body spray or perfume hiding somewhere, don’t ya? No one can smell that nice from shampoo or body wash alone.”

You shrug, humming, “I do.”

But Eddie can see the way you avoid his eyes, the way a blush creeps up your face, and you grow flustered. He knows exactly why. 

He can’t help but poke your waist, chuckling when you flinch, “you little liar! You got perfume hidden somewhere, don’t you? Wanna smell nice for Stevie boy, huh?”

Your eyes widen and your lips part as you begin to stutter. 

“Oh, I knew it!” Eddie laughs loudly. “I mean, I get it, if I shared a bed with someone I have a big fat crush on, I’d do the same.” 

You roll your eyes at him and push his hand away, turning around, you walk back into the store. 

Crush is an understatement, you are way past that point. 

Eddie’s smile never fades as he follows you. “You didn’t deny it.” 

You didn’t, no. There is definitely no point in denying something so obvious. Eddie already knew it when you attacked him with that wet shirt. 

“Do you want me to deny it?” You scoff. 

“Nope. I know it already anyway,” he shrugs, following you with a satisfied smirk on his face. “Tell me, have you kissed yet?” 

You halt in your tracks, cheeks burning at this point. 

Eddie almost walks into you when you stop so suddenly. He raises his eyebrows as he stares at the back of your head. 

You turn around to face him, not bothering to hide your flustered face. 

“No…” You mumble, shaking your head. The thought of kissing Steve makes your cheeks burn hotter and your chest flutter. There was a moment, a fleeting moment, where you thought that he would kiss you, where you thought of making the move yourself and closing the gap between you, but he pulled away before you had the chance to. 

Your eyes flash with something that makes Eddie’s smile fall slowly. The teasing no longer evident in his eyes when he sees something more serious in your features. 

“You hesitated,” Eddie points out, tilting his head at you. “Did you try to…?”

You shake your head. Your mind wasn’t there in these past few days and before that you were too insecure to even think about it. But you want to, god, you want to kiss him so badly. 

“No. There was a moment…” 

Eddie raises his eyebrows at you to continue. 

You take a deep breath as you glance out the window, even through all the dust and the dirt on the glass, you can still see him. He is standing with his arms crossed, face etched in concern as he waits for you to come back out. 

Eddie’s impatient huff pulls your attention back to him. 

“When I saved the cub, Steve pulled me into his arms… to warm me up– Don’t look at me like that, he would have done the same for you or Nancy!” You frown, blushing furiously when the teasing grin is back on his face. Though the thought of Steve holding Nancy the way he held you makes you feel sour for some reason. 

“No, he wouldn’t.” Eddie snorts. “He’d throw a blanket over our shoulders and call it a day. Now, continue.” He waves with his hand. 

You huff at him, rolling your eyes as you look down at your hands. 

“There was a moment where he moved closer… and I-I thought that maybe… he would kiss me.” You shrug, trying to act like it doesn’t affect you that he didn’t do it. “But then he moved back again… so maybe I just… saw something that wasn’t even there.” 

Eddie’s eyes soften, and a sad smile tugs on his lips. You don’t even see the way he looks at you. 

“Sweetheart–”

“No, it’s fine.” You shake your head, hating that exposing vulnerable feeling rising up in you. 

“You wanted him to kiss you, didn’t you?” 

You bounce your knee and bite your lip as you feel the nerves clinging to your heart. Your ears burn too now. You don’t answer his question but you look at him through your lashes, allowing him to look into your eyes. 

Eddie’s eyes light up, his dimples show when his smile widens. 

“Aw, Sunshine.” He giggles as he leans closer and pinches your cheek. “You’re adorable.” 

“Stop!” You groan in embarrassment, pushing his hand off. 

“I mean I already knew there was something between y'all but… damn… just make the first move. What are you waiting for? For him to sweep you off your feet and kiss you stupid before putting his cowboy hat on you so you can–”

“Oh god,” you interrupt him, rolling your eyes, though with a smile on your face. 

“You make the first move, you’re an independent, strong woman, Sweetheart. Don’t wait on the guy, I think he lost all his charm, you gotta be the one to make the first step here.”

You shake your head, “nope, I don’t think he likes me like that.”

Eddie sighs at your words, “listen, my sweetheart used to bully me when we were still in high school, we hated each other, turned out we just needed to fuck to see the potential between us,” he shrugs. “Steve wasn’t a bully to you… but… he kinda was. Still, I saw him checking you out, even when we were still in Hawkins.” 

Your eyes widen, “w-what?”

“Oh, Honey.” Eddie chuckles, his eyes flickering with amusement. “You are so oblivious. You’re telling me you don’t notice when his eyes are glued to your ass?”

You swallow and you shake your head, feeling as though you will suffocate if you don’t get out of here. 

“I thought women notice that shit.” He chuckles. 

You only stare in response, not knowing what to say because no, you don’t notice. 

Eddie tilts his chin down and lowers his voice, “you’re telling me he never got hard during one of your cuddle sessions–”

“Eddie!” You slap his chest, blushing harder than ever before. Your reaction giving you away yet again. 

He laughs loudly, eyes widening. “Oh, so he did!” 

“Shut up!” You mumble as you turn around and continue your way towards the door. “He said it was… wasn’t like that…”

Eddie furrows his eyebrows, still laughing behind you. 

“He just got hard for the fun of it?”

You roll your eyes and turn back around, “it was cold, it was before I got sick, when we hid in the car during the storm… We warmed each other up and he… you know.” You say quietly. 

Eddie didn’t know that. Steve told him about the part where you had to ditch your clothes and cuddle to warm up, but he left this very interesting part out. 

He crosses his arms over his chest, unable to fight the smirk off his lips. 

“It doesn’t work like that, you know? At least not to me, I’m not gonna get hard because of someone I’m not attracted to, Sweets. No matter how close they are.”

Your eyes grow hopeful, and he sees it. 

“Besides, you can’t tell me that wasn’t the only time…” Eddie says slowly. 

You and Steve have been sharing a bed since you got sick, and more than once, Eddie walked in on you cuddling in your sleep. 

You breathe in sharply and Eddie laughs again. Oh, he is gonna enjoy his next conversation with Steve. 

“And you haven’t mounted that horse yet, Cowgirl?” 

“I am done with this conversation!” You say with a high pitched voice as you turn on your heel and make your way out the door. You breathe in the fresh air, hoping for the coldness to cool off your burning cheeks, but the moment your eyes lock with his, you are done for. 

Eddie clears his throat as he steps out behind you, he stops laughing, though the amusing smile on his face gives away the kind of conversation you had in there. 

Steve pushes himself off the RV, his concerned eyes moving across your face. Unlike before, you don’t seem tense, and your expression is softer, though there is something else now troubling you. You are flustered, he can tell that much, especially by the way Eddie is smirking. 

Eddie picks up the pace when he notices that Nancy isn’t outside anymore. He catches up to you and reaches out for your arm, wrapping his hand around your bicep, he leans down and whispers, “also, you better talk to that poor man again; he follows you around like some lost puppy.” 

Guilt surges through you as you glance at Steve, whose eyes are softer than ever as he eyes you. You know you have been neglecting conversations with him, struggling to talk the way you did before the attack. The look in his eyes is why you avoided eye contact with him – it’s killing you now. 

Who would have thought that you would ever turn him into this? 

Steve furrows his eyebrows as he looks between you, noticing the flustered look on your face right away. 

Eddie brushes past him after letting go of you, he pats his shoulder before he disappears into the RV, giving you a moment to talk. 

Steve never takes his eyes off you, his body moving on its own accord, towards you. His name falls from your lips softly. His voice forces you to look up at him. 

“Are you okay…?” Steve whispers, his hand slowly reaching towards yours. 

You nod, looking into his hazel eyes, feeling warmth flooding through you, settling in your chest and in your stomach. The feeling of comfort holding you strongly every time you are near him. 

“You know that you can talk to me, right?” He doesn’t even try to hide the desperation in his voice. He knows Eddie tried to get through to you, and he might have done, but he wanted to be the one. 

“I know,” you whisper, sighing as you look down at his hand. You can’t help but reach out and slowly wrap your pinky around his. 

Steve’s heart flutters in his chest, he looks down and envelopes your hand fully, giving it a squeeze. 

“I just… I needed some time.”

Steve nods, understanding it more than anyone. 

“But Eddie…”

“Eddie is just like my annoying brother. Impatient and forcing me to talk.” 

Steve doesn’t know why he feels the weight of relief at the words ‘Eddie’ and ‘brother’ in the same sentence. He was fearing that you might have a more special bond to Eddie than you do to him. 

He cracks a smile, his shoulders slumping as the tension slips off. You notice it, how his eyes soften and a breath of relief falls from his lips. It gives you a shimmer of hope. 

“I wanted you to talk to me but I didn’t want to pressure you,” he murmurs softly as he takes a step closer to you and looks down at you with an expression that hasn’t faltered, not even after that night. You were so scared to look into his eyes, to see fear or disgust after how you handled things but you find none of those things – if anything, the look in his eyes is even softer now, making you feel stupid for even worrying, for thinking that he could see you how you saw yourself.

“I would have talked to you,” you whisper. Your own eyes soften, your voice filled with guilt. You didn’t mean to push him away, you didn’t mean to be so distant. 

“Yeah?” Steve tilts his chin down, looking deeply into your eyes. 

You nod. 

“Good. I thought you might have ditched me for Eddie,” he jokes, caressing the top of your hand with his thumb. “Thought you’d kick me out of our bed to snuggle him instead.”

Our bed. 

Your heart skips a beat, cheeks burning hotly at the choice of his words that you like a little too much. 

“Never.” You giggle, your eyes glinting with amusement. 

Steve’s stomach flutters, his heart yearning to hear more of that sound. His eyes light up and his hand squeezes yours tighter. 

“I missed that.” He blurts out, redness taking over his cheeks. 

“Missed what?” 

You tilt your head to the side in a way that makes him feel weak, you just look so damn cute, with that line between your eyebrows and the slight pout on your lips. 

“Your smile, your laughter.” 

Your breath hitches in your throat, your heart nearly exploding. 

He missed your smile? Your laughter? 

The look on his face is serious, his eyes vulnerable. You never thought that you could have such an effect on the guy who didn’t even want you around at first. 

Now he is holding you in his sleep, needing to feel you in his arms at nights, yearning to see you smile, to hear your laugh, to have you with him. It drives you crazy. It makes you yearn for him even more. 

Lost puppy is what Eddie had called him, the look in his eyes resembles just that. 

You can’t even fight the sudden urge to hug him, you take a step towards him and let go of his hand to wrap your arms around him instead, strongly. It certainly is not your first hug but it still catches him off guard, especially after days and days of your silence and distance.

You lean your head against his chest and close your eyes, breathing in his scent and melting into his embrace when he slowly wraps his arms around your waist, hugging you back after a second of hesitation caused by surprise. 

Steve’s face crumbles completely, his eyes softening even more if that is even possible. His heart beats so strongly, threatening to expose the way he feels about this. He takes a deep breath, an inhale of your sweet scent that sets all his insides on fire every goddamn time. His breathing turns shaky as he leans down and tightens his hold on you. 

You don’t know how long you stay that way for, but a few minutes pass – and if it was up to you, both many more could pass, but you need to move, you need to get back on the road. 

You pull away reluctantly. He keeps his hands on you, not pulling away completely yet. Your eyes meet and they speak to each other, the way your hearts do too. If only you could voice out your feelings. 

You are a hopeful person; you have always been one. It isn’t easy to be one in a situation like this though – even when a part of you, the smallest one, hangs onto the weak string kept together by the little moments of his eyes flickering down to your lips or his hands holding onto you tightly, searching for your touch. 

Could he feel the same? Could he feel a sliver of what you are feeling? 

If so, will he ever make a move or was Eddie right about what he said about him? 

Will you have to be the one to try? 

You aren’t sure if you are ready to try but you know that you will regret it someday if you don’t take the leap. 

You notice the way he stares at your lips, you feel the way his fingers tighten around your arms. 

Your eyes move across his face, tracing every mole, every scar, his pink cheeks, his lips that look surprisingly soft given the cold weather. Too many nights you have gone to sleep wondering what it would feel like to kiss him. 

This isn’t the right moment, it definitely isn’t. 

But you have to test the waters, you just have to. 

“Come on, we should hit the road,” you whisper as you take another step closer, moving onto your tippy toes, you press your hands against his chest, avoiding his eyes as you lean closer and press your lips against his cheek, pecking it softly. 

Steve’s eyes widen and his breath hitches in his throat. The spot your lips touched tingling as his heart threatened to jump out of his throat. 

He stands there for a while, even after you have pulled away to make your way back into the RV. He stands there processing what just happened. 

It was an innocent kiss. It was the smallest peck, a sweet kiss on his cheek – nothing he hadn’t felt before, and yet it made his heart beat in a way nothing else ever did before. 

He can’t help but crave more, he can’t help but want more than just this. 

When he returns to the RV, his cheeks are still burning, his heart's still pounding. He tries to act like nothing happened, like this little moment didn’t affect his emotions. He closes the door behind him, locking it. 

He clears his throat as he looks around, his eyes meeting Eddie’s, who is smirking at him, eyes glinting. He saw the whole thing, of course he did, he watched it. 

Though the metalhead says nothing and only turns back around, getting comfortable in the passenger seat as Nancy throws the map into his lap. She glances over her shoulder after fastening her seatbelt, looking at you before her eyes meet his. 

“Ready?” 

Steve nods, scratching his neck awkwardly as he moves towards you and takes a seat beside you. 

“Hit the road, Nance.” Eddie hums, but not without looking back at you one more time, giving you a wink that doesn’t go unnoticed by Steve. 

He glances at you, though you turn away from him, blushing. 

Steve raises his eyebrows, still looking at you – so he isn’t the only one getting teased by the metalhead. 

That sparkle of hope lights up inside of him. And he doesn’t know how to feel about it because it grows fastly and strongly. 

When after a few minutes of the drive, you lay your head on his shoulder, his heart nearly combusts as his skin starts burning up. The little sparkle will quickly turn into a flame and then… what?

How will this end for him? 

He doesn’t want to think about it, he doesn’t want to worry. 

But it’s in his nature to worry, to drive himself crazy with the what if’s. 

But for now, he reaches for your hand and he intertwines his fingers with yours. 

The squeeze of your hand makes his heart flutter wildly and it shows him nothing but the fact that he is screwed, so very screwed. 

-

You have always heard about the harsh winters in Wyoming, the sudden snowstorms, the heavy wind, and extremely cold temperatures. Though you didn’t think that it would hit you so suddenly, the way it did, given the warmth of the sun you were grazed with earlier today. 

You’ve only spent three hours on the road before Nancy had to stop driving due to the worsening weather conditions. The snow started falling harder, making it difficult to see. Thunder started rumbling, the red lightning in the distance made you all a little anxious. 

She parked the RV on the side of the road, close to a sign leading to a town. Her and Eddie left to find shelter for the night but they had been gone for an hour now and the wind had picked up since.

You look out the window, bouncing your knee anxiously as the snow covers more and more of the road and the trees. 

The howling of the wind makes you feel slightly uneasy. You feel it, it’s causing the RV to sway, making the tires creak beneath you. 

Steve is pacing back and forth, unable to find rest, knowing his friends are out there and the storm is getting worse but you couldn’t all go together, it’s too risky to leave the RV standing on the side of the road. 

“They’ve been gone for an hour.” He stresses. 

“They’ll be fine.” You assure him as you pull away from the window and sit down on the bench. “It’s not that bad out yet. I’ve been stuck in worse storms.” You shrug, trying to act like you aren’t afraid, like he is. 

“Have you?” He asks softly, his eyes finding yours as he stops pacing. 

“Yeah. It was one of those storms.” You murmur as you gesture to the red lightning in the distance. 

Steve frowns as he glances at the sky. He knows that this means nothing good. The storm, the red lightning, means the town ahead of you is crawling with monsters. 

The thought that you have been stuck in one of those makes his heart clench in his chest. The thought that you could all get stuck in that again, makes him feel the paralyzing fear that he hates so much. 

“We should have kept driving.” He mumbles as he thinks of everything that could happen. 

“No, we could’ve gotten stuck right in there. We are still a good distance away from it, we just need a more stable… shelter for the night, and after that we can figure out how to avoid this area.” 

You are right, he knows it, yet he can’t stop his fear from spreading inside of him. 

The door bursts open, making both you and Steve flinch from the sudden noise. Nancy rushes in first. Her scarf is covering half of her face, her clothes are covered in white snow. She removes the scarf, revealing her red nose and her trembling lips. 

Eddie curses under his breath as he slams the door behind him and removes his scarf as well. “Jesus, it’s cold as shit!” He breathes as he rubs his hands together. His nose is glowing red too. 

“We found something.” Is all that Nancy says before she makes her way back into the driver's seat, not wasting any time to start the engine. 

Steve looks between her and Eddie with furrowed eyebrows. “Found what exactly?” 

Eddie keeps rubbing his hands together as he brushes past Steve and plops down into the passenger seat. “Big place with a garage and everything, we can leave the RV in there, no problem–”

Steve sits down beside you before Nancy starts driving. 

“Any infected?... Monsters?” 

Eddie shakes his head at him, “just one infected outside the gate, nothing else. We checked the area and the mansion–”

“Mansion!?” You ask, your eyes widen. 

Eddie chuckles at your reaction, he holds onto the back of Nancy’s seat as she drives down the road. He looks between you and Steve. “Yeah, the place hasn’t been touched in years, we checked inside as well. It’s clean, nothing except for dust in there.” 

“Yeah.” Nancy nods. “Looks like it was some sort of vacation house.” 

“Mhmm.” Eddie hums, his eyes flashing with something that you can’t read. “You’re gonna love it, Sweetheart.” 

“Why?” You tilt your head at him. 

“You’ll see,” he chuckles, wiggling his eyebrows at you. 

You and Steve look at each other, both frowning in confusion. He takes a deep breath and turns back to Eddie when the RV suddenly lurches forward. You begin to slip off your seat, gasping in surprise as you reach your hand out to grab the handle behind you, when you feel Steve’s heavy arm around your body. 

With his arm around your waist and your back pressed against his chest, he holds you tightly, saving you from the fall as he holds onto the table beside the bench you are both sharing. 

“Wheeler!” Eddie breathes, holding his hand to his chest as he stares at the girl gripping the steering wheel tightly. 

“Sorry! Must’ve been the infected!” She shrieks. 

You grab Steve’s wrist, holding on tightly even though the RV is moving normally again, driving smoothly. 

“Jesus!” Steve grumbles behind you as he turns around to face the two in the front. “You drove over an infected?” 

“I didn’t see it until it was too late!” Nancy snaps. 

“Doesn’t matter anyways, it was dead, it was also dead when I killed it.” Eddie shrugs as he settles back into his seat. “Now we know for sure! Nance sealed the deal!”

Nancy shakes her head at Eddie, huffing at him. 

The sound of your giggle fills the silence in the RV that followed after Eddie’s attempted joke. Steve freezes behind you, his hold only tightening around your body as his heart skips a beat. 

A smile tugs at Nancy’s lip as she glances at you again, watching the way you lean your head against Steve’s shoulder who is looking down at you like you are the sweetest thing to walk this tainted earth. 

“Oh man,” Eddie whispers quietly enough for only Nancy to hear. She narrows her eyes at him before she returns her attention back to the road. 

“Ten bucks she’ll make the first move,” Eddie murmurs as he leans closer to her. 

“Money has no worth anymore, Munson.” Nancy snorts. 

She straightens her back as she leans closer to the steering wheel, a soft smile appears on her face. “I’ll get you two packs of cigarettes if you’re right but I have faith that he’ll make the first move.” 

He is intrigued, he didn’t think that she would agree to this. A smirk tugs at his lip, he moves closer to her. 

“And what do you want if you win?”

Nancy hums, “a shotgun.” 

“Why did I even ask?” Eddie chuckles, shaking his head as he leans back again. 

“I don’t know, now shut up, I need to focus.” She mumbles. Her eyes squint as she drives through the snowstorm, getting heavier by the minute now, the sky darkening. She could almost sigh of relief when she saw her flashlight in the distance, guiding her towards the garage. It was her idea to leave it there, knowing she wouldn’t be able to see the roads with the falling snow.

You could still feel Steve’s arms around your waist as the RV kept swaying, and then, you felt a slight drop making you squeal and Steve’s grip only tightened as he cursed under his breath. Your eyes turned to the windows and it was pitch black. You frowned, slowly getting on your feet with Steve as Eddie got up from the passenger’s seat.

“Let’s lock ourselves up, and we’ll go inside.” You blinked a few times, looking down at your waist. Steve followed your eyes, and he ripped his hand off you, feeling himself burn in embarrassment from holding you even after you didn’t need holding anymore. He feels as if he had been caught red handed. 

“DON’T FORGET MY FLASHLIGHT!” Nancy yells as she sees Eddie walking out of the RV with a wave of his hand. She sighs, shutting down the RV and sighing out of exhaustion. “I can’t wait to just relax…”

She gets up from her seat and turns around to face you both. Instantly, her eyebrows furrow when she senses the sudden awkwardness as Steve is blushing furiously while trying to busy himself with taking out a few cans of food to take into the house. You are sitting down still, looking up at him with a flustered look on your face. 

She can’t help but chuckle. However, when you both turn to her, she covers it up with a cough. She takes a step towards the door and opens it. 

“Alright ladies and gentlemen, garage is locked.” Eddie’s voice echoes in the garage. “Let’s go inside! Sweets come on, you’re gonna wanna see this!” 

You jump up from your seat and make your way out the RV. It’s too dark in the garage to see anything, only the flashlight Eddie is holding lights up the space around you. 

“Come on,” he tilts his head into direction of the door which you assume leads into the house. 

Eddie is grinning at you as he opens the door. He uses his flashlight to guide you inside. You make your way inside, curiously looking around, but you can’t see much yet. 

“They have a generator in the basement, but we couldn’t find any gas.”  

“That’s fine, we can light up some candles and the fireplace if there is one.” You murmur as you walk further into the house with every step that you take. 

“Romantic.” Eddie chuckles as he turns around, pointing the flashlight at Steve, wiggling his eyebrows at him. 

The former jock only rolls his eyes in response. 

“Oh my god!” 

Your shriek startles everyone, but Eddie quickly recovers when he sees what you’re so excited about. 

“Give me that!” You rip the flashlight from his hand and point it at the wall, gasping.

You start jumping up and down, bouncing on your feet as you squeal in excitement.  

Steve steps closer to you, noticing how your eyes light up like the ones of a kid on christmas morning. His lips curl into a smile, a small chuckle falling from his lips.

The wall in the long hallway is decorated with cowboy hats and western style pictures, giving away the kind of people who lived here before. 

Nancy and Eddie laugh at your reaction as you stare at the collection of cowboy hats, already looking for your favorite one. 

“This is like Wayne’s collection except we were poor and these people were rich rich.” Eddie murmurs as he looks into the big living room. 

“Hey,” Nancy steps closer to you. “You wanna take a look in the closet upstairs? I think you’re gonna like it.” 

Your wide eyes meet hers, and even in the faint light, she can see the excitement swirling in your eyes. 

Steve doesn’t tear his eyes away from you, loving the genuine surprise in your features, the happiness that slowly makes its way into your eyes. 

“Looks like a couple lived here and they were gone before shit hit the fan,” Eddie mumbles behind you as he gestures to the plastic covers over the furniture but you aren’t even listening to him. Your eyes only light up even more as you stare at Nancy. 

Steve’s own eyes widen in surprise when he suddenly feels your hand holding his, and you begin to drag him away from the hallway and towards the big staircase in the middle, “come on, Stevie!” 

Nancy’s laughter echoes in the hallway, the look on Steve’s face is more than just amusing. 

“Stevie.” Eddie murmurs under his breath to her, chuckling softly. 

“Shush.” Nancy slaps his chest as she watches you both move up the stairs. “Come on.” 

“I knew she would love this.” Eddie smiles as he and Nancy follow you up onto the second floor, which they have checked out before already. “Do you think she’s gonna force Steve into a cowboy outfit?” 

“Is that even a question?” She chuckles. 

When Nancy mentioned a closet, you didn’t imagine it to be a walk-in closet, let alone one filled with clothes your heart desires the most. You look around with wide eyes, spotting the variety of cowboy boots on the shoe shelf, the leather jackets, the jeans and vests.

“Holy shit!” You whisper as you slowly let go of Steve’s hand. 

Steve squints his eyes as you walk away from him, leaving him in the dark as you use the flashlight to take a closer look at the clothes. 

“That is like a dream come true,” you whisper, putting the flashlight down to grab a pair of boots. “I wonder if these will fit me.” 

He leans against the wall as he watches you move around, his eyes soften, and a smile appears on his face. His heart melts, the tension slowly slips off his shoulders. It’s nice to see you like this again.

“Why don’t we dress up?” Eddie speaks from the doorway, smirking cockily at Steve, expecting him to shake his head though Steve only shrugs. 

“Are you kidding? Why do you even ask?” You exclaim as you start looking through the jeans, tapping off the layers of dust that have unfortunately covered the clothes. 

Eddie chuckles at your expression, at the bewildered look on your face. He steps closer to Steve and pats his shoulder, “why don’t we find you an outfit to impress the girl, cowboy?” He whispers to him. 

Steve glares at him, though only because his cheeks heat up at the thought of your reaction to him wearing something that you love. 

“Let’s do justice to your new nickname.” Eddie chuckles as he pushes him towards the side of the closet that has all the male clothing.

“Where is Nancy?” You frown, already picking out an outfit for her. 

“Looking for batteries for a table lamp.” Eddie explains. “Go on, get dressed, Sweets.” 

You shrug and turn your attention back to the clothes, picking out an outfit. You grab the pair of boots you liked the most before you start making your way out of the room. 

Steve’s eyes follow you until he can no longer see you, with a soft gaze and rosy cheeks. 

“Be right back, fellas!” Your giggle echoes in the hallway.

Eddie’s hand is still on Steve’s shoulder. His smirk bigger than it was before, eyes flashing with mischief. 

“Oh boy.” Eddie murmurs, enjoying Steve’s reaction already. “She’s adorable.” 

Steve's smile slowly falls, his expression hardens as he turns to face his friend. 

“Hey now, I didn’t mean it like that.” Eddie chuckles, his smirk never fading. “She’s all yours, man. Matter of fact, you can make her all yours tonight. We’re safe here, nothing’s out there and if there is, the storm will take care of it, nothing survives that shit out there,” Eddie points out the window, the snowstorm now raging stronger than before. 

Steve’s shoulders tense up again and he frowns, shaking his head. 

“Eddie–”

“Don’t. I know what I see, and I can see right through you. Whatever is going on in that big head of yours,” he pauses, flicking his forehead, making Steve frown harder. “Whatever is holding you back, delete that shit out of your brain, man. Don’t let her slip through your fingers. You waiting on that perfect moment? You got it now, perfect chance.” Eddie whispers, spreading his arms out as he gestures to the big space they’re standing in. “There’s even a king sized bed, you ain’t getting that opportunity again.”

“Dude.” Steve shakes his head, blushing at the last comment. 

“Don’t dude me,” Eddie sighs, rolling his eyes. He turns away from him and starts looking through the clothes. “Just watch the way she will drool when she sees you in… these… tight pants.” He murmurs as he hands him a pair of jeans, pressing them against his chest. 

Steve looks down, lifting his hand up slowly, and he grabs them, a sigh falling from his lips. 

“This is ridiculous–”

“Guys!” 

Eddie looks over Steve’s shoulder, taking a look at you. It’s dark in the room, the flashlight only gives little light but just enough to see you. His eyes widen, and he puts his hand back on Steve’s shoulder. 

“Tell me I look like a real cowgirl!” You giggle as you twirl around. 

Steve stares at you, not even blinking, not moving, not breathing. He is just staring. His lips are parted as he eyes you up and down. 

The jeans you are wearing are tight,hugging your curves, and your ass perfectly. The brown belt low on your hips. You could have chosen one of the many flannels in the closet, but you didn’t, instead you opted for a jean vest with a very low neckline. You buttoned it up, but it is still very open, very exposing – exposing to the point where he can see a little of your bra, the lace standing out underneath. You opened your hair, removed the hair ties around your braids. 

His eyes keep flickering between your ass and your chest, unable to look away. His stomach making somersaults at the look of you, his skin heating up beneath his clothes. 

“Well damn,” Eddie whistles at you, chuckling when you stand in front of the mirror and check yourself out with a squeal. “You look hot, Cowgirl.” He smirks, squeezing Steve’s shoulder. 

Steve swallows, unable to tear his eyes away from you. 

“What do you think!” You turn around, facing Steve. 

His eyes widen at your attention, his cheeks reddening underneath your gaze. He looks away from your chest and into your eyes, though finding it hard to after checking you out like a perv. 

“Y-You…” His voice breaks, which makes Eddie cackle behind him. Steve clenches his jaw, taking a deep breath. “You look amazing, Sunshine.” 

A giggle falls from your mouth and you bite your lip as you look down at the jeans in his hand, “come on, it’s your turn!” You smile excitedly, making your way towards him. “Let me pick out the rest of your outfit!” 

Steve and Eddie step aside, letting you do your thing. They both watch as you pick a flannel and a vest for him to wear. 

“You need any assistance, Eddie?” 

The metalhead chuckles, shaking his head as he keeps on watching Steve. 

“Nah, I got it. Just help this Cowboy here out.” 

Steve feels a little relieved when he finally gets to leave the room after you hand him the rest of his outfit. He takes a deep breath once out in the hallway, earning an amused smile from Nancy when she walks past him with the table lamp now in her hand. 

“You okay there?” She asks, glancing between his face and the clothes and boots in his arms. 

“Peachy.” He grumbles as he steps into the closest room he can find privacy in. 

Nancy can’t help but chuckle, already sensing what she will walk into. She steps inside the walk-in closet, lighting up the room with the lamp she found. Her eyes widen when she notices your new outfit. 

“Oh wow! You– Your ass looks amazing in those pants!” Nancy gushes over you, looking you up and down. 

A laugh falls from Eddie’s lips when he sees how flustered you get. 

“Nancy isn’t the only one who thinks that.” He wiggles his eyebrows. “You should keep them.” 

“Eddie!” You huff, slapping his shoulder. But you can’t fight the blush off your cheeks, thinking about how he might have checked you out. 

“Just telling the truth.” He cackles, stepping away from you and towards the hallway. “I’ll be right back, I got the best one.” 

Nancy crosses her arms over her chest, shaking her head at him with a smile. She takes a seat on one of the armchairs and glances at you. 

“Aren’t you cold?” She asks, eying your exposed arms. 

“I am, but I wanna enjoy this moment in this pretty vest.” You say, turning back towards the mirror. “Are you not gonna get changed?” 

Nancy shakes her head, “nope and don’t even try to convince me, this is not my style. It looks amazing on you though.” 

You pout at her, “not even a pair of boots?” 

She shakes her head, “I’m satisfied with my own. I’ll take a look at the rest of the clothes though, I’m sure there’s something other than western stuff, right?” 

“Let’s take a look.” You shrug. You busy yourself with the big closet, standing next to each other as you look through the drawers. 

Nancy opens another one, her eyes widening. 

“Wow.” Nancy whispers, blushing as she pulls out a thong. “You want those?”

You narrow your eyes, glancing at the lace in her hand. 

“Wear them during one of your cuddle sessions with Steve,” she giggles, wiggling her eyebrows at you the way Eddie always does. 

“Nancy! You are sounding just like Eddie.” You whisper and grab it from her hand, making her chuckle. You shake your head at her, cheeks burning. 

The floorboards creak in the doorway, causing you both to look over your shoulders. Your eyes widen as Nancy gasps. 

Eddie stands there, hair hanging loosely down his shoulders, cowboy hat on his head. He is wearing a black leather vest with nothing underneath, his tattoos and his scars on full display. You look down and you can’t help but laugh loudly. The leather pants are a little too tight on his crotch, leaving no room for imagination. 

“Ew, Munson! I can see your dick!” Nancy screeches and covers her eyes. 

Eddie walks over to the mirror, ignoring her reaction. A wide smile appears on his face as he checks himself out the way you did before. 

“Oh, I am definitely taking these! My sweetheart will love this!” 

You giggle at both his and Nancy’s reaction. 

“Don’t ever wear this in front of me again!” Nancy stresses, turning back towards the closet with red cheeks. 

“I’m wearing them now, Wheeler.” Eddie mumbles, not paying attention to her. “Just don’t look at my dick, perv.” 

“Fuck off.” 

You can’t help but shake your head in amusement at their interaction. 

“I think I get it now, Sunshine. I’m kind of digging this.” Steve mumbles, appearing in the doorway. 

You turn around to face him, opening your mouth to speak, though before you can even utter a single word, your breath gets caught in your throat and your eyes widen at the sight of him in this getup. Your lips part and a weird sensation rushes through your body as you take him in. 

He left the shirt under his vest unbuttoned at the top, showing off his chest hair. You eye the scar around his neck, taking a quick glance at his face to see him staring back at you already. You bite your lip without noticing as you take in the way the jeans hug him, the way the vest looks on him, the boots. 

He doesn’t even look dressed up, it just looks… good on him. 

Your heart flutters as he brings his hand up and runs it through his hair. 

You take a deep breath, sighing softly as you tilt your head. This is it, this is your cowboy. 

Nancy presses her lips together, holding back her laugh when she notices the way you stare at him. 

And Eddie, he only shakes his head at how obvious you are. 

“So…” Steve murmurs, smiling as he finally looks up. “What do you think, Sunshine?” 

You blink. 

Steve raises his eyebrows at you. He places his hands on his hips, eying your expression. Satisfaction grows strongly inside of him when he sees how flustered and speechless you are. 

Eddie looks between the two of you, his lips curling into a smirk. 

“Do you like what you see?” Steve adds, tilting his head down towards you. 

Finally, you blink yourself out of your stupor. Your whole body is burning up now, your lower stomach tingling, your knees weaken. 

“I-I… you look… you look—“

Nancy cringes a little at your stuttering, knowing that you are dying inside. 

“Yeah, Stevie looks hot doesn’t he?” Eddie chuckles, taking pity on you. “But not even he can beat this.” He gestures to himself, which luckily forces Steve’s attention away from you and towards him. 

Steve eyes him, his smirk falling as his eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Dude…” He grumbles. “Are you trying out for your next job or…?” 

Nancy bursts out laughing, nodding. “I did see a dancing pole somewhere in here, might as well practice.” She jokes. 

Eddie’s smirk only widens at their teasing, “I would make a good stripper.” 

While the three of them continue to joke about Eddie’s potential stripper career, you are still staring at the pretty brunette, feeling taken aback by the effect he has on you. You have been attracted to people before, your ex-boyfriend for one, but it was never like this. He never stole your breath, he never made you feel weak in the knees, he never made your heart beat so strongly, not even when he broke it. 

You are screwed and it scares you a little. 

Your heart flutters strongly when he offers his arm out to you, acting charming. 

“Care to join me for dinner ‘round the fire, ma’am?” Steve attempts to imitate a southern accent. 

Your eyes widen and a surprised giggle falls from your lips. 

His eyes light up, his rosy cheeks glowing beneath the golden light of the table lamp. 

You hook your arm around his, biting your lip as you step closer to him, “why yes, sir. Do you have a horse to take me there?” You play along, using the same accent.

Steve chuckles as he leads you out of the room, grabbing the flashlight on the way out. 

Nancy watches you both leave the room with a smile on her face. 

“He sure does have one.” Eddie murmurs under his breath, chuckling. 

Nancy’s smile falls and she rolls her eyes at him, slapping his chest. 

“Why do you always have to be so gross?”

-

The fireplace in the living room is burning brightly, lighting up the room in a golden glow, the wood is crackling, music is playing softly from the radio Eddie had carried inside before dinner earlier.

You hear the howling of the wind outside and look out the window every once in a while to make sure that nothing followed you out here but both Nancy and Eddie keep repeating that you are safe for the night, that nothing will come even close to this mansion without getting stopped by the storm raging outside. 

They are right, you know they are but the red lightning in the distance makes you feel a little unsettled knowing that you might have to go through there tomorrow. 

“I have a proposition to make.” 

You push away from the window and draw the curtains close again, turning around, you face Eddie. 

He had changed into a different outfit earlier, a comfier one but you saw him stuffing the leather pants and vest into his backpack. 

Steve who had been looking at you, sitting close to the fire, tears his gaze away from you and glances at Eddie who is keeping one arm behind his back. 

“What is it?” Nancy murmurs without looking away from a book she found. 

Eddie grins as he reveals the whiskey bottle that he had been hiding behind his back. 

“Before anyone protests, I would like to remind you that this might be the only opportunity we have to relax and have some much needed fun.” He says, holding back a smirk as he looks between you and Steve. “We are safe here, you guys know we are, and we don’t know when we’ll ever get such an opportunity again.” 

Steve’s eyes find yours again. 

“You two deserve it especially.” He points between you. “You guys need to let loose.”

Nancy clears her throat and sits up on the sofa. 

“I think we all deserve to let loose. If these two are getting drunk, then so are you and I, Munson.” 

Eddie’s eyes widen in surprise, he turns to face her, “Wheeler, you never fail to impress me.” 

“Like you said, we’re safe here,” she shrugs. “And if anything happens, I’m an even better shooter when I’m drunk.” 

Eddie chuckles at her confidence. “Alright then,” he murmurs, turning back to you, he raises his eyebrows. 

You look between him and the whiskey bottle. The desire to forget about everything for a moment, to let loose, to have fun, is so strong. 

“You’re feeling better now, Sweets. You can drink,” he grins, tilting his head to the side. “Cowboy doc over there won’t say no, not tonight, am I right?” 

Steve licks his lips, taking a deep breath as he takes in the desire in your eyes. 

“No.” He shakes his head. 

“Okay…” You murmur, nodding. “But only if Steve drinks too.” 

“Oh, Sweetheart,” Eddie chuckles as he makes his way back to the bar in the corner of the room. “He’s already made his decision.” 

You make your way towards Steve, giving him a small smile as you sit down next to him. Nancy grabs a blanket and a pillow to sit on, throwing it down across from you, she plops down on it, giving you a curious smile, “when’s the last time you got drunk?” 

Eddie sits down beside her and places the cups on the ground. Opening the whiskey bottle, he fills them all up. 

“Uh… well, I haven’t had a single sip since all this shit had started,” you shrug, squinting your eyes. “Can’t even remember when that was.” 

Steve eyes your side profile, watching the way your dimple appears in your cheek when you smile. Your skin looks so soft beneath the golden light. There’s a scar forming from where you have been hit, he traces it every night, like he wants to cover the painful memory with another one – the way you do to him with his own scars. 

“Happy drunk or sad drunk?” 

You grab the cup and tilt your chin down as you raise it up to your lips, smelling the alcohol. 

“Happy drunk.” 

“Good, good.” Eddie nods. “This is gonna be fun then.” 

Steve pulls his knee up to his chest, grabbing the cup Eddie pushed towards him, he presses his hand against the floor, close to where yours is resting. 

“Do you get drunk quickly?” Steve asks as his fingers brush against yours. 

“Hmm, given the fact that I haven’t had any alcohol in over a year… probably yeah.” You nod. “But I am no lightweight usually!” 

Steve chuckles softly, finding you endearing. 

“Whatever you say, Honey.” 

Your cheeks heat up, and you look away from him, which makes his smile widen even more. The urge to tuck your hair behind your ear is growing strong. 

“Let’s drink!” Nancy cheers. 

Steve’s eyes stay on you, watching how you raise the cup to your lips and how you knock back the whiskey in one go, not even scrunching up your face in disgust. He gulps down his own and scoots closer to you, patting you on the back softly. 

“Atta girl.” 

You try to not feel affected by his words or his soft touch but it’s hard not to, especially when he speaks to you like that. 

You know this won’t be the only moment tonight that will make you feel weak in the knees, and you know that getting drunk might not be the best idea here, especially now with your feelings being so overwhelming. 

But you don’t care because one drink turns into two, two into three, and then into four. By the time Eddie is pouring your fifth cup, you have gone into a complete state of bliss. A permanent smile is stuck on your face, giggles fall from your lips at every joke made. 

And Steve feels no different, he is in the same state as you are. You have both scooted closer to each other, leaning towards one another every time you burst into laughter. His hand finds yours every time you fall into a fit of giggles at some stupid joke Eddie makes or tells a story from the past.

And in your drunken haze, you grow a little more confident, a little more daring, though waiting for an opportunity when it ends with just the two of you. It doesn’t take long for that to happen because soon Nancy passes out with her head on Eddie’s lap, the latter leaning against the couch, slowly falling asleep as well. The two of them too tired from driving all day. 

But you and Steve are far from it, not interested in sleeping at all. He is the first to get up, keeping his balance even with the alcohol in his system. He grabs the whiskey bottle that is half empty now. 

“Come on, Sunshine.” He whispers, turning to face you with a lazy smirk on his face. He reaches his hand down to you, “let’s get out of here.”

You giggle, gazing up into his eyes. Your heart flutters at the sight of his messy hair. His cheeks are rosy, sleeves rolled up, revealing all the veins in his arms. 

“Where are you taking me, sir?” You whisper as you put your hand in his and let him pull you up onto your feet. Your blanket falls off your shoulders, and you leave it on the ground, not caring to take it with you. 

“We’re gonna explore, Cowgirl.”

You giggle at that and he quickly moves his finger towards your lips, shushing you. “We don’t wanna wake them up.”

Your eyes widen, though a smirk tugs at your lips, “why, do you want me all to yourself?” You whisper, your head tilting to the side. 

All the worry, all those insecurities, all those what if’s that were coursing through his mind before are gone at this moment, and he can’t find it in himself to care to hold back. A part of him feels confident, the other intrigued, and the biggest part of him feels desire and yearning for this, for you. 

“What if I do?” He murmurs as his eyes flicker between your eyes and your lips, expecting you to get flustered, but instead, you take another step closer to him. 

“Well, you got me all to yourself now.”

Steve hums, his stomach flipping at your comment. He takes your hand, squeezing it as he smiles at you, “come on.”

You both tip toe out of the room, making sure not to wake either of them. You step out into the hallway, trying not to step on any creaking floorboards. 

“Where to first?” Steve whispers as he grabs the flashlight from his back pocket after handing you the bottle of whiskey. You instantly raise it up to your lips, taking a swig. 

“Hey now,” he shakes his head at you, “easy with the whiskey, little lady.” 

You can’t help but giggle at the deep tone in his voice and at the plastered frown on his pretty face. You take a step away from him, not letting go of his hand just yet. 

“Or what?” You raise your eyebrows. 

Steve lowers his eyebrows, a suggestive look flashing in his features. His eyes follow the drop of whiskey that rolls down your chin. Sober Steve would think about it but not do it, drunk Steve acts on his feelings though – he steps forward and brings his hand up to your face, cupping your cheek as he wipes away the drop of whiskey. 

Your breath gets caught in your throat at his action. Your stomach flipping with excitement and desire. You sink your teeth into your lower lip as you look into his eyes. 

Everything happened so quickly, so suddenly. It went from zero to one hundred. You don’t even know how it happened, how you went from shy touches to this but you aren’t complaining, not when he looks at you like this, not when he touches you like this, not when you see the chance of something more happening between you. 

The alcohol in your system makes this feeling between you so much stronger, like you threw fuel into the fire and the flames are burning higher and brighter now. 

Steve is looking at your lips, you are looking at his. All it would take is for one of you to make a move, just one step closer, just one. 

You aren’t your usual selves tonight, barely anything is holding you back and yet, the smallest part, the smallest voices in your heads, manage to break this moment apart. You don’t know who pulls away first, but a few seconds later, you are moving through the hallway again, still hand in hand. 

“I’ll pick out a hat for you.” You whisper to him, looking up at the collection of cowboy hats on the wall. 

“You don’t wanna wear one?” Steve asks, looking down at you. 

“No, I want you to wear one.” 

Steve aims the flashlight at the wall, though he isn’t looking at the hats, he is looking down at you. His heart thumping strongly, his stomach burning in desire. A mixture of emotions rushing through him. 

He watches the way your eyelashes flutter, the way you keep biting on your lip, the way you scrunch your nose up at certain hats. Steve swallows, the desire growing stronger with each passing second. Then his eyes move down to your neck, to the very revealing vest on your body, the black lace peeking out, your skin, your boobs–

“This one!” 

Steve blinks, swallowing harshly as you pull him out of his stupor. 

“I can’t reach it!” You pout as you look back at him, still holding your arm out towards the black hat. 

Steve doesn’t even think before he moves. He puts the flash light down and grabs the bottle of whiskey from your hand, placing it down on the ground as well before he steps up behind you. “I got it,” Steve murmurs into your ear, his lips getting caught in your hair. Instead of just taking the hat himself, he grabs your hips and he lifts you up with ease. 

You almost squeal in surprise, but you manage to hold it back. Your body heats up, burning like the flames in the fireplace, but you enjoy the moment, a little too much. His hands are big, his arms strong – you always knew, but this is making everything in you flutter. 

“Got it,” you giggle as you grab the hat off the hook. 

Steve puts you down again but he doesn’t let go of your hips just yet. His thumbs brush against your bare skin between your vest and your belt. Your skin is so soft, and you smell so sweet, so intoxicating. Your scent drives him crazy, every night when he goes to sleep with you, every morning when he wakes up with you in his arms but now… now it all feels more intense. 

His touch makes you feel weak, it brings out feelings in you that weren’t there before. And when you feel his breath on your neck, his nose in your hair, you almost lose it. Almost. You take a deep breath and turn around to face him. His hands are still holding your hips, grip never loosening. 

You bat your eyelashes at him as you rise up on your tippy toes, holding eye contact as you bring your hand up to fix his messy hair, the bang sticking up. 

His grip tightens on you in response, the feeling of your hands in his hair doing things to him that he can’t even explain. 

“There,” you whisper as you place the hat on his head. “Pretty Cowboy.”

Despite the cocky smirk appearing on his face, he also feels the heat spreading, feeling himself blushing, strongly. His heart skipping in his chest at your compliment. If only he could act upon his desire – he is already doing so, but still holding back. 

“Come on,” you whisper, reaching for his hand again. You bend down and retrieve the stuff from the floor. You press the whiskey bottle into his free hand and keep the flashlight in yours.

Steve tries to not look at your body when you walk up the stairs before him, but it’s hard not to do that when you move your hips the way you do, when your ass looks so good in those tight jeans. 

He swallows harshly, his eyes glued to you. His lower stomach flutters, and his breathing turns shaky. His desire for you had always been there, but never like this. The more he gets a taste of what it could be like to have you, the more his hunger grows. 

You make your way through the darkened hallway upstairs, finding a room that looks like it used to be an art room once. 

“Oh wow…” You breathe as you walk in further, eying all the drawings on the table, the paintings on the wall. You let go of Steve’s hand and pick up one of the wooden sculptures. 

Steve already misses the touch of your hand but he lets you explore the room. He looks around as well, noticing the camera on the shelf. He makes his way towards it, squinting his eyes because of the darkness in this room. He blows the dust off and picks it up, surprised to see it still turning on. He puts down the whiskey bottle, giving his entire focus to the camera. 

He polishes the camera lens with the sleeve of his flannel. He glances at you to see you standing close to the window now, the light of the flashlight kissing your features subtly. A smile tugs at his lips when your eyes light up. You look so beautiful. He raises the camera up, squinting one eye as he tries to get the perfect shot of you. 

You are so focused on the sculpture shaped into a horse that you don’t even hear the snap going off. 

“This is so nice,” you smile, putting down the sculpture. You turn to face Steve. Your eyes widen in surprise when you see the polaroid camera in his hand, not even noticing how he stuffed something into his back pocket. “Oh my god!” 

You rush towards him, taking the camera from his hand. 

“I’ve been looking for one everywhere!” You gasp, turning it in your hand. “Is it still working?” 

“Try it.” He smiles innocently. 

Your eyes flash with excitement as you take a step back. Bringing the camera up to your face, you aim it at him. “Perfect, now I get to keep a reminder of this.”

Steve chuckles. The never fading blush stays on his cheeks as he poses just for you. Not in a million years would he act this goofy with anyone. But he does it for you. So he holds the edge of his hat, almost tipping it as if saluting the camera, and his right hand is hooked on one of the belt loops of his pants. He hears the camera shutter going off, and you are smiling widely, bouncing on your feet as you hold your hand to the device to grab the picture developing already.

Once in your possession, you look at it in awe as you shake it, fanning it so it develops faster, and soon enough, your cowboy appears in the picture. He was born to wear these clothes. He sure is going to kill you someday. Your heart can barely handle it right now, but maybe the alcohol is helping with that one. The camera gets taken out of your hands, making you look at Steve, who is smirking already, a dangerous smirk that almost sends your knees to the floor.

You are startled when you feel a hat being placed on your head, his hat, and your thighs clench. You giggle a bit as you bite your bottom lip, your eyes finding his through your eyelashes, your hand stuffing the picture into your backpocket.

“Do you know the hat rule?” He tilts his head in question, a lazy smile on his lips, his body dangerously close as he moves a strand of your hair behind your ear. His voice almost a whisper.

“Why don’t you tell me?” He honestly doesn’t know what you are talking about but he also doesn’t even know when he got this close to you. He didn’t realize it. He also didn’t realize how his fingers were playing with your belt, and how your fingertips were running up and down his arms, almost without your knowledge.

“No, it’s more like… something that has to be shown.” Your eyes are fluttering and his chest is brushing with your own body and his lips are some tippy toes away. Your heart is hammering in your chest thanks to your emotions, to the alcohol, and to the heavy tension that hangs in the air, that hangs between the two of you. 

He wobbles in his place for a second, dizzy by just looking down at you. How bad leaning down could be?

But a rough rattling makes the two of you jump in your place, something having hit the side of the house and you wouldn’t be surprised it was either a tree or an infected. He steps away from you, feeling a bit more awkward than courageous now. He had to change the situation back to friendly. He had to. He points at you with the camera, a smile on his lips.

“Pose for me, cowgirl.” You smile widely, heading a few steps back, heading towards the large porcelain horse sculpture in the corner. Steve frowns because, when did that spawn? He shrugs, following you until he sees you pose, holding onto the horse that is standing on two of its feet. He snorts when you pretend to give the horse a kiss, and is that jealousy he feels for a piece of inanimate porcelain?

He swallows when you pull your vest down tighter, a more provocative pose. More skin of yours being revealed, more of your flesh that he wants to touch. He takes a picture and he is trying to think of something else to distract you from taking that last one for himself. He pretends to jump and turn around in his place. 

“What’s in the other rooms? I wonder if Eddie went into one of those.” He lies as he moves away and you jump up, rushing to get the whiskey bottle and following Steve as he holds the flashlight and camera. 

“Wait for me!” You whine. Steve is biting his bottom lip as he looks at the developing picture in the same hand he holds the flashlight. Mission accomplished. He sees you rush forward in front of him and– His eyes stuck to your ass again. You really should stop moving like this. Today is not the best day for you to show off that you look this good in tight jeans.

He sees you open the door from the room that is next to the one you two were just in. 

“Holy fuck…” A plastic wrap covers the entirety of it, protecting it from dust, bugs and humidity. Your eyes open like plates as well, sighing in surprise as you approach the massive mattress. 

Your hands immediately grab onto the plastic and you start ripping it off. Steve walks over to the dresser, wiping the surface off before placing the camera and then the flashlight on it, making it face the ceiling to turn it into a pretend lamp. It is very dim, but it works. He wobbles towards you, helping you with the weight of the plastic wrap. He almost tumbles a few times, which only makes you giggle. Once the plastic is off, you get on the bed, standing in the middle of it with your knees. 

“Sunshine–?” His voice gets cut off when you start bouncing, your hips going up and down and up and down, and your breasts and your body and– 

“Oh, this wasn’t made just for sleeping!” You giggle as if unaware of the images you just gave him. The fucking fantasies that flashed in his mind in a milisecond. You had just conjured images of yourself in many positions and with much less clothes than you had now, and you managed all that by just bouncing on a bed. 

He has to focus. The alcohol is making it all go south. It is going faster by the minute, and he is afraid of not being able to stop it. He feels sweaty, suffocated, and then you plop down on the bed with a huff, taking off the hat, you throw it on the bedside table. Laying on that bed would not be a good idea. Drunk Steve should leave. Drunk Steve should look away. Drunk Steve should leave you alone for the night.

But he can’t control himself. He wants to be near you. He wants to be close to you. So he lies down next to you, looking up at the ceiling. His head starts spinning in a good way, and oh fuck, he is sure having a hangover tomorrow. 

“I’m so fucking drunk that I feel so good, Stevie…” You mumble out, and he smiles, nodding.

“Me too.” He turns on his side to look at you properly, and you are still looking up.

“Does sex feel this good too? I imagine it does.” Your question catches him off guard. Sober Steve would have become nervous and wouldn’t have known what to properly say. He hums, making you look at him.

“It depends.”

“Depends?”

“Mhm. You can have sex, sure, but if the other person only cares for their own pleasure and is selfish? Kinda sucks. Or sex without feelings, that also sucks too.” You are caught off guard by his answer, making you turn on your side to face him. Despite the wide bed, you two are close, too close. Maybe one hand away from each other.

“So, you never had sex just because?” You ask, and he chuckles, nodding.

“I have, that’s why I can tell you that sex like that sucks.” You blink a few times, feeling a lump in your throat. Your head is spinning, and your heart is singing, and you don’t know if it is nausea or butterflies in your belly, but maybe it is a mix.

“And… would you do it again?” His eyes find yours at your question, and one of the qualities alcohol had was that it made you honest.

“Sex without feelings?... No. I wouldn’t, Sunshine.” And for some reason, that answer of his made you want to sigh out of relief. But the answer made you think a bit more, your eyes moving down from his.

“I wouldn’t do it normally… but I don’t think there’s another way for me to experience it… So I guess I would.” His heart plummeted at that. You would give your virginity away if the situation were to present itself. He felt his throat closing up at the thought of it, and rationally he should not care. Rationally, he should nod at it, and if it happened, good for you.

But fuck does he feel sick thinking of the possibility of another man touching you.

The horrible thought gets interrupted when you let out a big sigh, your eyes slowly closing.

“I hope my kids don’t get to see this, the world as it is now.” Your words shock him, making him raise up using his elbow for support, which kind of makes him dizzy.

“You… what kids?” You open your eyes to find his alarmed ones, making you giggle as you shake your head.

“I don’t have kids now! I meant– I meant my future kids, if medicine allows me to have them.” Your giggle dies down when you find him just staring at you. You feel a little intimidated and shy, making you pout. “I like the idea of having kids, sue me! I’m 22 years old!”

His heart becomes a furnace of pure warmth with your words, making his mind feel a little foggy, a little heavy. His eyes drift down for a second towards your belly… just one second. Fuck, oh no.

“I didn’t say anything, I was just surprised.” You see him lay back down with a sigh, staring up at the ceiling. “I want kids too. Six, to be exact.” 

“SIX!?” You yell, the emotion coming out naturally at the surprise. 

"I know, I know, it's a lot and the world isn't the best place to be right now but... I just want a big family. I always did.” He admits to you for the first time. Your eyes are looking at his profile, your mind filled with possibilities, with images of a future that started including little details you never expected.

"That sounds... nice. A big house... with a pool. A dog. Maybe one set of them are twins..." You start with your rambling, your eyes looking up at the ceiling as the image forms right in front of your eyes. Steve smiles, as if connected to you, as if he could see what you were imagining.

"Get to take them to the lake. Buying a suv." You giggle at those words, but nodding nonetheless. He follows you with a chuckle, looking at you at the same time you turn your head to look at him.

"Can't forget the family movie nights." He nods at that, and his voice starts lowering, his stomach flipping into itself as the words slip out of his lips before he could contain them.

"Yeah... and then when the kids are all sleeping, I can finally be alone with... my wife, partner. Have that solitude for each other." And you hum for a minute in thought, not realizing how Steve was looking at you.

"Honestly, with six kids? I think the one thing I would do is sleep." And you giggle but Steve keeps looking at you. Just looking at you.

"Yeah... you would definitely sleep." Steve smiles, still staring at you, never looking away from you, not even when he catches himself thinking of that future with you. Of walking into the living room after putting the last kid to bed, ready to spend the night on the couch with you, only to find you sleeping. The image of that is so endearing to him. His warm smile widens, his chest flutters with warmth. 

You close your eyes, humming at his words. A lazy, yet happy smile lingers on your face as you move closer to him, searching for his warmth, for his touch. 

“You getting tired, sleepy head?” He whispers, his eyes softening as he watches you snuggle up against him. 

You only nod in response. 

Your hand brushes against his, and he looks down, moving without thinking. He envelopes your hand in his, pressing his larger palm against your own. 

You open your eyes, and you are so close now that your nose almost brushes against his. Your breath hitches in your throat as his own does too. 

Steve’s eyes flicker across your face, staying on your lips for longer than they should, for it to mean nothing, for it to be friendly. You look down at his lips too, craving them on your own so badly. 

Your heart skips a beat. You want to kiss him, you want to kiss him so badly. And everything in the way he looks at you, in the way he squeezes your hand as he finally entwines his fingers with your own, tells you that he wants it too. 

And yet, neither of you make the final move. 

Neither of you step over the line that you both want to cross so badly. 

But you won’t lie and say that all his reactions, all his actions tonight, didn’t fill you with confidence. 

For tonight, you move closer, giving him one last smile and a squeeze to his hand before you curl into him, snuggling against his body and tucking your head under his chin. And your confidence only grows when he doesn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around you, to squeeze you, and pull you into his embrace. 

And then… he presses his lips to the top of your head, and your final decision is made. 

So maybe you won’t kiss him tonight, but you will kiss him tomorrow. 

☀︎

taglist: @prettyboyeddiemunson @pretentious-blonde @thecreelhouse @tvserie-s-world @thesickestqrmydcll @crispystarfishhottub @sophal22 @definitionwanderlust @talkativecarnation @mysticalwoolenfroglegs @ariesandwolves @mortqlprojections @sattlersquarry @sherrylyn0628 @purpleeyeswithgoldensparkles @micheledawn1975 @keepingitlokiii @littleromanoff2005 @sunshine-mrk @xxladymjxx @bananasplits-world @myharrington

[ilililiilililiilililiil]

You Don’t Own Me

SERIES MASTERLIST

Chris Sturniolo lives by his own rules, refusing to be controlled. Some see him as a rebel, a troublemaker—but is that the full truth? Meanwhile, Y/N is focused on making the most of her last year of high school, determined to have a normal teenage experience. But when their worlds collide, they realize they may have more in common than they ever expected.

WARNINGS: COPYRIGHT NOTICE. PLEASE READ AND LOOK UP DEFINITIONS OF WARNINGS FOR FURTHER CLARIFICATION. HUGE TW FOR THIS CHAPTER. CSA (only mentioned, not described), angst, fluff, fighting, physical altercation, lying, and more.

A/N: This is long as fuck and have fun on this emotional rollercoaster lol this is barely proofread btw

With love and big tits, Rose

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

P24: Too Soon?

A week. My mom would be gone on some work trip for an entire seven days.

I really don’t believe it. Part of me always thought she would lie about them being ‘work trips,’ but now I was sure. What kind of work trip didn’t have cell service?

She’s lying. I know she’s hiding something, I know deep down this probably isn’t the first time she’s done this before. But that’s not even the worst part.

The worst part is that she that she left Byalen in charge to ‘watch’ me—like a fucking babysitter, since I couldn’t be trusted anymore because of the time she caught me coming home with Chris early in the morning.

Fucking hypocrite. 

Sure, I wasn’t telling the truth—but neither was she. Like mother, like daughter, I guess. 

Currently, I’m on my bed, staring up at the ceiling as my phone rests on my stomach. Chris’ voice echoes through the device. We’ve been talking for hours. I really want to just go over and see him—see my boyfriend, but I can’t. Not while I’m being fucking babysat. 

“Are you sure you don’t wanna sleep over? You need to sleep.” Chris says.

God, the offer is tempting. All of me wants to say yes, walk over to his house, and cuddle up in his arms. But I can’t. I’ve slept like shit for the past three days and it keeps getting worse. I need him to hold me in order to feel okay, I wanna sleep in a house that feels like a home too. 

It’s not even just him. It’s Jimmy, it’s Matt, and hell—even Trevor. I love being around them, it makes everything feel so much easier. 

I huff, shaking my head against my pillow as I roll my eyes. “I can’t, I’m being fuckin babysat at 18 years old.” I remark. 

A wave of silence washes over for a minute. I can practically hear Chris thinking, the slight vibration of a curious hum sounding through the phone. My fingers callus over my lip, the slight graze of my nails making the muscle tingle in a way that mimics how Chris’ lips feel against my own.

Fuck. I miss that. 

It’s like he has something that I need and crave all the damn time, like he possesses some sort of energy that makes my body feel better—lighter, even. 

“Well…what if I came over there?” He offers. 

My eyebrows twist together. I lick over my lip, gnawing on the muscle as I think of his statement. 

“But…but what if we get caught?” I question. 

I could imagine it. Baylen would see Chris and all hell would break loose. 

I doubt he’d cover for me, he’d probably enthusiastically go telling my mom the second she walks back into the house. 

Chris lets out a dry laugh. “Has he really ever bothered to check in your room? I mean, even if he does, I’ll just hide in your closet or something.”

“That’s kinda gay, bro,” I joke, gnawing on my lip as I hear Chris let out a fit of chuckles that make my heart echo in my ears. 

I love being able to do that. Hearing him laugh—making him laugh, it all feels so pure. It honestly feels as intimate as him in between my legs, just in a different type of way. 

Either are addicting. It was hard to miss only one or the other, I craved both. 

I wanted to feel the euphoric relief from his touch. I wanted to laugh with him to the point where I couldn’t think of anything except how bad my stomach cramped from giggling. 

I wanted everything and all of it—I just want him. 

It’s only been a bit over a week since we made things official, but god—I could feel emotions building so rapidly, so much that they felt like they were consuming every corner of my mind.

Some of it made me sick. 

I never felt this way with Ryan, my ex. The butterflies were there, but not to this extent—not to the point where I caught myself trying to imagine he was holding me in order to fall asleep. 

“Do you want me to come over and not?” Chris remarks, pulling me back to reality as his voice echoes through my phone. 

I bite back a sore smile, humming in approval, “Yes please.” 

___

It feels good like this. Every inch of my body is content, my limbs melted in his hold as I let myself breathe in the fresh air from the cracked window in my bedroom.

His hand is combing through my hair. I hear him clear his throat, his chest rumbling as he begins to speak, “So, um…I…I’ve really missed you.” he says—again.

My lips tug into an unrelenting smile. We’ve been cuddling for hours and he’s repeated the same statement at least ten times. 

It should be annoying, but it’s not. It makes me feel warm—it makes me feel a part of the moment, like every wave of the breeze is infiltrating the pores on my skin to ground me with a profound amount of peace. 

“I missed you too.” I reply, scratching my nails over his chest as I let out another hum of contentment. His lips press against the crown of my head, a lingering kiss placed on my scalp as I feel his warm breath tickle into my hair. 

It’s dark now. We should be tired, but we’re not. A short nap had rendered us a bit sad since we wanted to watch the sunset together, but it was okay since now we got to watch the night sky illuminate with a crescent moon and thousands of stars varying in vibrance. 

I wonder who’s watching. Maybe my dad is one of those stars, maybe he gets to see me finally living after all these years without him. 

The gap of his presence still aches in my heart, but it’s not as exhausting. A tiny splinter of a gap still remains in the pumping muscle, but it seems to be soothed by the added layers of security from Chris’ arms around me. 

“What’re you thinking about, pretty girl?” Chris asks, combing through my hair. 

I crane my head to stare up at him, sparing a soft smile as I give a slight shrug of my shoulders. “I just…” my words float into the air, unfinished as I gulp the lump in my throat that seems to build with how his eyes are piercing into me. “-I really like this. I…really like you…being here with me. It’s just–” 

Chris leans down, pressing the tip of his nose against my own as he blinks, his eyes lashes fluttering against my own with a ticklish sensation that makes a soft sigh fall from my lips. 

“-good. I’m glad you like it because I love it. You don’t understand how much I missed holding you, really,” he whispers, his breath fanning across my lips in a way that makes my stomach swarm with warm butterflies. “-this makes me so, so, so fuckin’ happy—holding my girl, in my arms—”

“You’re never gonna stop saying that, huh?” I tease, biting on my lip as his eyes open and gleam into my own.              

Chris purses his lips, shrugging. “Nah. Getting to call you my girl?” he puffs, his eyes going with before he offers a playful smile, “-could never get old to me. Makes me feel all….” he wraps his arms tighter around me, pulling a gasp from my mouth as he pulls my chest plush against his, “-warm.” 

Ugh. He feels the same way I do—maybe even more so. 

I let myself bathe in his stare, the reassurance of his gaze making me feel like moonlight—calm, radiate, and important. Part of me doesn’t wanna speak at all, the fear of this exact moment ending making my heart pulse in my chest with a sharp sting. 

But it’s okay. 

It’s okay because I know there will always be more moments like this with him. It’s okay because there’s no doubt in my mind that he’ll ever let me feel anything less than cared for. 

Words linger on the tip of my tongue, words I know I shouldn’t say—not yet, at least.

But it’s true. I love him, I really, really do. I don’t know when the realization happened. Honestly, I think it might’ve been when we first met, like some sort of cautious feeling that was warning me of destiny. 

Chris licks over his lips, his smile fading into a serious look as he swallows thickly. “I…I know we haven’t been official for very long, but—I…I feel things for you, I feel so much it hurts,” he breaths. 

My breath halts in my chest, my ears ringing as my bones seem to vibrate inside my body. He feels it too. It’s like everything about us is connected, like everything is falling into place so effortlessly it feels like magic. 

“I…” The words fall flat on the tip of my tongue, my eyes glazing over with pure emotion as I let my eyes wander over his face.

It’s so comfortable. All I can hear is our hearts beating in sync, the way my entire soul is burning for me to say it—say everything. 

“I love you.”

My eyes widened in shock. The words had rambled off my tongue so rushed, the devotion hanging in the air with an accompanied echo of his own voice. 

“Oh.” 

Our words are still in sync. We both let out a small laugh, the giggles falling quiet as we just breath in each other’s presence. 

“I guess that wasn’t as scary as I was making it out to seem, huh?” he tuts. 

I shake my head, laughing under my breath as I shrug, “-I guess so.” 

___

Chris’ POV

I keep waking up. I’m not sure what time it is, but it’s like my body doesn’t want to sleep, even though I’m very comfortable, I just wanna look at her in my arms. 

The slight sound of crickets echoing with the cool night air makes me sigh. My eyes drift over to her nightstand, her empty water bottle catching my attention. She had jugged all of it and fell back asleep within an instant a while ago, waking up a bit later, disappointed to find the bottle empty. 

Maybe I should fill it for her.

Yeah.

Slowly sliding away, I wince hearing her let out a small whimper, reaching out for me as I stand up fully. Her eyes peek open. I pet over her shoulder, cooing, “-hey, go back to sleep—’m just gonna fill your water, okay?” 

She nods hazily, her eyes falling shut with a slight scowl printed on her face. 

God, she’s pretty.

My stomach flutters with warmth as I watch her bottom lip pout slightly, her arms reaching out and tugging the pillow that was beneath my head into her hold as she greedily takes a large breath.

Fuck.

She’s barely awake and she still wants me. 

With light steps, I carefully make my way out of her room, venturing through the halls in hopes of finding the kitchen. It doesn’t take long. I walk into the tiled room, the cold flooring against my feet making me miss the warmth of her touch. 

“Ugh,” I sigh, walking over to the sink and filling the bottle, trying to tilt the object to create as little noise as possible. 

My lips roll together, my mind racing with thoughts as I reminisce on earlier. I was so scared to tell her that I loved her, I was scared it was too soon, too much, or purely insane to feel so strongly when we only made things official a bit ago. 

But she said it at the same time, and somehow that was better than her saying it back. 

“Who the fuck?” 

My eyes go wide as I screw on the cap to the water bottle. I turn around, finding her brother with messy hair and sunken eyes staring at me with a scowl. 

Fuck. 

“Shit.” I mutter, squinting my eyes shut in hopes I’m just having a nightmare. 

But no. 

I open my eyes, he’s still there—closer. 

“Who the fuck are you?” he interrogates, his shoulders broadening as his nostrils flare with an angry huff. 

“I, uh,” I look towards the hallway, mentally cursing myself as I think of her getting in trouble because of me, “-I’m Chris. I’m…uh—”

I don’t get the chance to finish. Baylen’s eyes shift to the bottle in my hand, his tongue prodding on the side of his cheek as he shakes his head disappointedly. 

“What? Are you her boyfriend or something?” he asks, lips tugged into a straight line. 

Gulping, I nod. Surely me being her boyfriend is better than being a stranger breaking in, right?

“No.”

The fuck?

My brows furrow together at his statement. Baylen seems to analyze the confusion on my face, shrugging as he repeats the words with a more tense voice, “-I said no.” 

“What? No? Hate to break it to you, but that’s not really your decision.” I point. 

No wonder she can’t get along with him, he’s a prick. He barely acts like a brother, yet he’s trying to dictate our relationship? 

Fuck that. I’ve done more for her than he has with a fraction of the time. 

I mean, how hard is it to be there for his sister? 

After losing my mom and Nick, no matter how distant or hurt I was, I still hugged Matt when he needed it. I might’ve grown distant, but I never grew heartless.

Baylen couldn’t even suck it up to play video games with her. 

His face contorts with distaste. I let out an angry sigh, my eyes rolling while he let out a scoff. 

“She’s my sister. I’m the one who gets to look out for her, not some guy she’s known for what, a couple months?” he remarks, a slight snort echoing at the end of his sentence. 

His words seem to make my heart pummel against my chest with rage, the statement making my blood boil as I lick over my teeth. “Look out for her? You can’t even sit down and play a video game with her for more than five minutes. Just…” I shake my head, watching as his face shifts into shock before the fury in his eyes starts to become more intense, “-it’s whatever.” 

Baylen clicks his tongue on the roof of his mouth, shaking his head, “Shut the fuck up. You have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

My nose twitches, my eyes squint as my jaw becomes tight. Who the fuck does he think he’s talking to? 

“Oh, I have no idea what I’m talking about?” I huff, my brows lifting as I let out a dry laugh, “-no, you have no idea what you’re talking about. You’re an awful fucking brother, you have no say in anything when you’re treating her like…like a fucking dick.” 

His jaw clicks. Baylen stalks forward, his hands twisting in the collar of my shirt as he yanks me to the side, pushing me against the wall as his eyes glare into me, the anger radiating off of him making the ache in my head from the impact seem less apparent as I drop the water bottle and clutch onto his wrists, trying to yank him off of me. The loud clunk of the bottle hitting the ground makes me wince. I huff at his unrelenting grip, taking a heavy sigh as I try to calm the pulsing anger in my body. 

I can’t hit him. She cares about him—even if he hurts her, I know that would make her upset.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” he repeats, his voice dangerously low as he pushes me harder against the wall.  

“You abandoned her when she needed you most. What kind of brother does that?” I spit, the emotions in my voice leaking with a bit of hypocrisy. 

I wasn’t always the best when it came to comforting Matt after my mom and Nick had died, but at least I came around. Someone had to knock some sense into me—that someone being my dad, but it didn’t seem like anyone was ever gonna set Baylen straight. 

“You—you don’t get it. Stop. Just—just shut up,” he yells, shoving me even harder as I feel the back of my head pulse. 

“I do. Just…ow, fuck—” I hiss, the pain becoming evidentally apparent as my skull aches, “-I lost some of my family. Someone had to knock some sense into me. She—she’s your sister, you both lost your dad, she’s hurting and—shit.” 

It fucking hurts. The back of my head is pulsing, an echoing pain bursting through my forehead as I try to move, only to have him shove me harder. 

“I didn’t lose anyone. You…you don’t understand.” 

My eyes peak open, curiosity accompanied by pain as I hear a slight crack in his voice. His face drops with sadness, the anger fleeting into some sort of sullen emotion as he swallows thickly. 

“You…you don’t understand. That man—he’s not my father. He’s a sick excuse of a man that traumatized her and she doesn’t even fucking remember,” he spits. 

“I…what?” I breathe, my chest tightening as Baylen loosens his grip around the collar of my shirt, his lower lip wobbling. 

“I’m never supposed to tell her. I…I have to hear her mourn a man who would…who’s the reason she’d have to sneak into my room—he’s the reason she could never make it through the night without having an accident. Something was wrong—everything was wrong.” 

“What—what’re you saying?” I ask, my mouth falling open as I let my hands fall from his wrists. 

Baylen’s eyes sink with sadness, his cheek hollowing as he gulps. “She wasn’t potty trained for a long time. At first, I didn’t get it. But…but…he was touching her, her body was showing all the signs of sexual assault, but I was just a kid, I didn’t…I—by the time I understood what had happened, it—it was too late. Now I have to hear her mourn a man who is the reason I feel—he’s…he’s the reason I can’t comfort her, he’s the reason I can’t look at her,” he says, his head tilting as his face scrunches with pain;

“He’s the reason I hate myself—the reason I can’t let myself get close to her without seeing how much of a failure I am.” 

Oh.