*:･ﾟAlways Fangirling ･ﾟ:* @bubblefina - Tumblr Blog

Lights, Camera, Action!

The first rule of drama club is: leave the drama for the stage. So what happens when creatures that you thought only existed in the movies appear right in front of your eyes?

Dustin's older sister! reader x Steve Harrington

Slow burn

Wc: 22k+

Reader is in drama club

Warnings: NSFW content below

Season 4 is split up into two parts because Tumblr won't allow me to post all of it in one go, so be sure to read the second part! It'll be linked in the masterlist below :)

Masterlist

Season Four- Volume 1

December 31st 1985, three hours until midnight.

Drumming your fingers against the steering wheel, you sing at the top of your lungs. It’s dark, and there’s not that much traffic, which is surprising for New Year's Eve. Usually the streets would be full of people driving through and fro, but it seems as though the universe wants you to express yourself freely tonight.

“I'm out on a limb, I'm giving in to you again!” You shout, feeling the wind run against your face. Sure you may not be totally musically talented, but it’s the effort that counts.

Besides, the music is the only thing keeping you from flipping out over the events of tonight. Just an hour ago, you were at a party in another town, enjoying the time you had left before the clock struck twelve. After being there for barely thirty minutes, the cops came banging on the door.

Your motto of “not my house not my problem” didn’t stop the cops from questioning you. Thankfully you didn’t have anything to drink and passed the breathalyzer test. So here you are, driving back home to Hawkins, trying to enjoy the last few hours of the year.

“I feel so insecure, and yet I've never felt so-” Your singing session is rudely interrupted as your car comes to a halt, your neck being choked by your seatbelt.

You press on the gas, and the car doesn’t move, but you can hear the roar of the engine.

“Weird…” You whisper.

After shifting it into reverse, you run into the same issue. Having had enough, you unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door. You hunch over and notice the cause of the problem, a pothole. A giant freaking pothole that your tire is stuck in, and after closer inspection, you realize that it’s flat as well.

“You’re kidding me?” You ask yourself, “What the actual fuck?”

You’re tempted to just put the hood up and call it a night, but remember that you passed a phone booth not too long ago. Rummaging through your glove compartment, you pull out all of the quarters you can find and begin to make the trek. Luckily, you made the wise decisions to wear sneakers tonight, or else you really would have just camped out for the night.

After a few minutes of walking, you finally make it to the phone booth. There’s a list on the walls of the booth for numbers to call, along with the exact location of the phone booth.

How convenient.

You dial the tow truck number, playing with the cord as you wait. The call finally goes through, and it’s an old guy on the other side.

“Myer’s towing services and more, what can I do for you?”

“Hello, I’m on Auburn street and I seem to have gotten a flat tire…and my car is stuck in a pothole.

The old man laughs, “I know exactly what you’re talking about. Had one of my boys tow a car there earlier today.”

How comforting to know that I’m not alone.

“I’ll send someone out there to get your car. Hang tight.” The old man hangs up without another word.

You sigh, hanging up the phone.

Why wasn’t the pothole fixed if other people are having problems with it?

After walking back to your car, you sit idly inside, waiting for the tow truck to come by. It seems like forever until you see the headlights shine in your rearview mirror. The truck pulls up in front of you, and outcomes a guy younger than you expected.

You get out of the car, offering an awkward greeting. He dismisses it and gets straight to business, practically ignoring you in the process. The bright lights of the truck are oddly distracting, putting you in a daze as he lifts your car and straps it to the truck. He briskly finishes it, not wasting a second.

“Wow, you guys are really efficient.” You say, trying to make small talk, but unfortunately you’re ignored again.

He brings out a notepad, scribbling something down, “Here’s where you can pick up your car. Unfortunately, you won’t be able to get it till the morning.”

You take the torn piece of paper he gives you, pocketing it. He starts to walk back towards his truck, and you follow him. Before he opens the door, he turns to you.

“Is there something else you need help with?” He asks.

“I…I need a ride back to town. I can’t just stay here.” You laugh awkwardly, the entire situation feels uncomfortable.

“Unfortunately company policy dictates that we can’t share our vehicles with customers. You’re going to have to find your own ride, ma’am.” He opens the door, quickly locking himself inside.

“Wait, so you’re just leaving me here, stranded?” You walk up to his window, hoping that he’s not serious.

He shrugs, and begins to drive off. You stand there, jaw wide open. The audacity of that guy to not even look you in the eyes the entire time he’s towing your car, and then he just LEAVES you?

“Fucking bastard!” You shout at the top of your lungs, but what’s the use, it’s not like he can hear you.

You angrily walk back to the phone booth, gripping the quarters in your palms. Like hell, you’re gonna walk all the way back to Hawkins. You dial Mrs. Prescott, a friend of your moms. Tonight just happened to be bridge night, so your mom is away from home playing cards.

The phone rings a few times before someone picks up.

“HellO!”

You recognize that voice, it’s Mrs. Prescott herself, but she sounds very disoriented.

“Um hi, Mrs. Prescott. I was wondering if I could talk to my mom? It’s kind of urgent.”

“Oh hello, y/n dear! It’s nice to hear from you…but I regret to inform you that your mother can’t come to the phone right now-” She begins to laugh before she finishes her sentence. It’s clear to you that she’s drunk. And if she’s drunk, then your mom probably is too.

“Is my mom drunk, Mrs. Prescott?” You ask, just for clarification.

“Well it’s not a New Years party without some wine, dear!” She begins to laugh again, only this time louder.

You distance the phone from your ear, and you can still hear her snickering.

“Okay, sorry for bothering you guys. Have a nice night.” You hang up the phone. In what world is your mother having a better New Year's Eve than you?

Who else has a car?

You brainstorm all of the people you know that aren’t getting wasted tonight. Dustin is at the Wheelers house having a sleepover, but it’s not like he can drive either. Nancy is in California, visiting Jonathan, so she’s off the board. You only have one more quarter left, so whoever you dial next better come and get you.

Inserting the coin, you dial a number that you don’t dial often. The phone begins to ring, and your heart jumps once you hear the voice on the other side.

“Hello, this is the Harrington residence, Steve speaking.”

“Big head!” You say, relieved that he actually picked up.

“What? Thespian? Why are you calling me?”

“I need you to listen to me very carefully. I’m on Auburn Street, and my car just got towed. I’m kind of stranded out here, and I need a ride.”

“What are you doing all the way out over there? That’s like half an hour away from Hawkins.”

“Don’t ask too many questions, I’m on limited time here. Just come and get me before I freeze to death out here.”

“Where are you on Auburn Street?” Steve grabs his jacket and car keys, getting ready to leave.

“I don’t know, actually. Just drive until you see a yellow payphone, I’ll just stay until you get here.”

“That’s so vague! I need an actual location.”

“I can’t give you one, all I have is Auburn Street! Just come and get me.”

Steve sighs, “Fine. Stay there and don’t move.”

You hang up the phone, rubbing your arms as the wind picks up. By the time you get back home, it’s gonna be around eleven o’clock. What can you possibly do in an hour that’ll end the year on a good note? Hawkins is boring…most of the time. You try to remind yourself to be thankful that things are peaceful, but the kind of excitement you’re asking for isn’t fighting monsters and running for your life. Just something that gets your heart racing in a good way would be fine enough.

You lean your back against the wall of the phone booth, waiting for any sign of a car coming. Every time you exhale, you can physically see your breath in the air.

He better be blasting the heater.

A few minutes later, a familiar maroon BMW pulls up. You immediately run towards the passenger side door, opening it frantically as you get inside. Thankfully, he does have the heat on.

“You took forever, I was seconds away from freezing.” You say, rubbing your hands together.

“Yeah, cause it took me forever to find that damn phone booth. Do you know how long Auburn Street is? I drove around for like five minutes making sure I didn’t accidentally drive past you.” Steve checks over his shoulder before doing a u turn, beginning the drive back home.

“Well I didn’t choose to drive over that pothole. Oh, and by the way there’s a pothole nearby, so I’d just drive on the other side until we pass it.”

Steve gives you a sarcastic smile, “Thanks for the heads-up. But onto more important matters, why am I the one rescuing you?”

“It’s not a rescue, you’re just driving me home, and I called you because no one else was available.”

“Did you just assume I’d be doing nothing tonight?”

“Precisely. You’ve lost your royal touch, Harrington.”

“I haven’t lost anything, Thespian. Just cause I’m not doing keg stands that doesn’t mean I’m a loser.”

The ride back is relatively quiet, except for you rhythmically tapping your legs to the beat of “Out On a Limb”. Steve notices your constant humming that’s accompanied by it and turns down the car radio.

“What song is that?” He asks.

You stop humming, “It’s Teena Marie, I can’t believe you don’t know.”

“Your broken tune isn’t making it easy to decipher, for someone who does musicals I thought you’d be able to hold a note.”

You punch his arm, clearly offended, “Yeah, well I don’t see you selling record labels either.”

“Watch it, I’m driving.” Steve rubs his arm.

You gnaw at your bottom lip, checking the time on your watch. It’s a little past eleven o’clock now, there’s no chance of doing something memorable now. Sighing, you lean back into the seat, thinking of how you can end the night.

“You should come over, so you can listen to the song.” You cough to clear your throat. Oh, how far you’ve fallen to invite Steve of all people to your house to keep you company.

“Am I hearing this correctly? You want me to come over?” Steve begins to laugh. He makes you feel like you’re begging.

“I’m just saying, my plans were ruined, and you have nothing better to do. If you wanna spend the last hour of the year alone in your house then just say so.”

“I didn’t say no, I just wanted clarification that it was you asking me and not some monster possessing you.” Steve’s lip curls upward, but he covers it with his hand.

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Forty minutes until midnight

Steve pulls into the driveway, shutting off the car. You step outside, and it’s eerily quiet, probably because no one's home blasting MTV New Year's Eve specials. You lead the way to the front door, but your foot catches on something. Looking down, you sigh heavily.

Red roses, a full bouquet of them. That's the second time this month.

“Does your mom have a secret admirer or something?” Steve asks, noticing the roses that you kick to the side.

“I wish.” You mutter, unlocking the door.

Steve steps inside first, escaping from the cold. You grab the bouquet off of the floor, walking it over to the trashcan where you dispose of them. This routine is getting really old really fast.

You enter the house, shivering as you toss your keys onto the counter.

“Where’s the cat? Doesn’t she usually come to greet you?” Steve asks, placing his keys next to yours on the counter.

“Mom took Tews with her to play bridge. Poor thing’s probably surrounded by a bunch of giggling drunks.” You take off your jacket, throwing it onto one of the chairs.

You turn the TV, throwing the remote onto the sofa to go grab a snack.

“Seriously, the weather channel?” Steve takes off his jacket, throwing it on top of yours. He jumps onto the couch, grabbing the remote.

“Go ahead and change it, big head. I just turned it on so it wouldn’t be as quiet.” You open the fridge, opening all the containers to see if there are any leftovers worth eating.

You hear the sound of Steve shuffling through the cabinets full of vhs tapes, trying to find a movie to watch. Tucked in a corner of the fridge is a container of banana pudding, presumably Dustin’s. Shrugging, you scoop it out into bowls.

If he wanted to eat it, he would have eaten it by now.

The lights to the living room shut off as Steve turns on the movie. You throw the container away and grab both of the bowls, joining Steve on the couch. Your spoon hangs from your mouth as you hand him his bowl. He takes it without even looking, too absorbed by the opening scene of the movie.

“What movie did you pick?” You ask.

“Some movie called The Fog, I just grabbed whichever one looked interesting.” Steve begins looking for the nilla wafers, wanting to eat them first.

“Y’know, for a guy that works in a video store, I would have thought you could pick out better movies by now.”

Steve rolls his eyes, increasing the volume. The both of you lay on the couch, legs entangled, as the clock keeps ticking to midnight. Every time there’s a jump scare, you can feel him flinch, which you find funny. The guy can fight monsters and take beatings from bullies and soldiers alike, but a scary movie is what freaks him out. You swirl the spoon around the rim of your bowl, watching his brows tense.

It feels like he has some hypnotic pull to him, enough to make you tune out the movie. You continue playing with your food, using your spoon to break a nilla wafer. At the same time, there’s a loud jump scare, and that’s the only time when you jump. It seems as though you let your guard down too much. Steve notices your distressed state, his attention on you.

“Seriously? That’s the one that scares you?”

You put down your bowl, rubbing your chest through your shirt to calm your heart.

“At least I’m not the one that finds everything frightening.”

Steve scrunches his nose, annoyed at your willingness to make fun of him at every turn. He watches as you try to regain composure, but there’s something that catches his attention.

He points to his lip, “You got a little something on your mouth.”

You wipe your lips with your hand, but Steve shakes his head.

“Still there.” He says.

You huff, wiping your mouth again. Steve rolls his eyes, apparently you can do everything but wipe your mouth clean. He leans over towards your side of the couch, arm extended towards your face.

“Let me do it, you big baby.”

You feel the sofa shift as he puts his weight onto your side. He towers over you, using his thumb to wipe the residual pudding from your lip. His other hand rests against the arm of the sofa, caging you underneath him. All the effort you put into calming your heart seems to have been futile, because here you are, feeling like it’s about to burst out of your chest.

He begins to move away, but you grab onto his arm, feeling his muscles tense with your touch. He stops and looks at you, surprised. All of a sudden, you can’t form a coherent thought. Just by staring into his eyes, everything else seems to disappear. Your fingers trace along his arm, and he shifts closer.

Is this a mistake? Am I even allowed to feel like this with him? Shit, two years ago I hated his guts, but now all I want is-.

Steve readjusts, his knee gliding between your legs as he lowers himself down. His face rests at the side of your neck, and you can feel his hair stroke your skin. The smell of honey and sweet oranges envelops you as you breathe him in. You feel his finger trace along your palm before he intertwines his hand with yours. The warmth blooms, spreading to the rest of your body like fiery amber. His chest rests against yours, and you just know that he can feel your heart hammering against your rib cage. You bite your lip, trying to steady your breathing.

“I can still feel it, even if you’re trying to calm down.” He says, his voice vibrates against your skin.

You laugh nervously, “It’s from the jump scare, I’m just…”

“Scared?” He finishes for you, and you clench your eyes shut.

He’s a dork, a complete dork. He’s the guy that comes over and plays video games with your brother and dances like an idiot when he wins. He’s the guy who runs around, trying to chase your cat for a hug. He works at Family Video and doesn’t even know which movies are good. So why the hell are you freaking out over him? Why the hell does his voice sound like a melody in your ears? Why do you want more?

He pulls away again, but this time you hold onto the sleeves of his shirt with a tight grip. He stops moving, breath growing heavy as his brows furrow in confusion. There was a point in time where even looking into your eyes was a hard chore. You’re the drama geek, that’s how it’s always been, you lived to put on a show. Yet now, he can see beneath the surface of the facade you’ve put on. A quiet confession of who you really are is painted in your eyes, and he’s being drawn in.

But there’s one thing that stands clear, you’re forbidden fruit. A pleasure that he just can’t partake in. Sighing, he shakes off your grip, moving back to his area of the couch.

The warmth fades as he leans away, and you feel as though the sun itself burned out. Feeding into impulse, you grab the sides of his face, bringing him back in. Cherry chapstick, that’s what you taste when his lips are on yours. For a brief moment, you enjoy it before you realize what you have just done. Your lips break from his with a pop, eyes wide open as the kiss begins to register in your brain.

“I am so sorry, I don’t know why-”

You’re quickly cut off when Steve leans in himself, his lips colliding with yours. His hand grasps the back of your neck, moving you in closer. He’s kissing as though he hasn’t had a meal in days, devouring you by the second. Every time there’s a small chance to breathe, you hear him gasp before he goes back in. Running your hands through his hair, you can’t believe how soft it is. Giving his hair a slight tug, you hear him moan.

“Fuck…” He groans, pushing you back onto the couch.

Settling between your legs, he grinds into you, wanting little to no space between the both of you. Your arms find themselves wrapped around his neck, bringing him in closer. His tongue darts out, licking at your bottom lip before biting down. You whine, feeling him smile against your lips.

Smug Bastard.

Your hands slide down along his back, finding the hem of his shirt. Steve gasps as he feels your hands slip underneath his shirt and up his back. You feel him nipping at your lip again, and you return the favor by running your nails along his back. He tenses, feeling the sting spread across his skin. Shifting his position, he grabs your hands with his own, pinning them above your head.

Every gasp is like a siren's call from your lips, and Steve wants nothing but to get lost in the tranquil waters that you’re luring him into. His knee slides and rests on the remote. The volume of the move increases abruptly, scaring the both of you. Steve breaks the kiss, catching his breath. His eyes are glazed over, watching closely as you sit up.

You clear your throat, “Do you…do you wanna listen to the song in my room?”

He’s taken aback. That was the best kiss he’s ever had, and you’re deciding to break the tension by asking to listen to a song?

“What?”

“My room, the song I was talking about is in my room.”

Steve inhales, “Sure…yeah, let’s go.”

You climb out from underneath him, racing to your bedroom. Steve leans his head back on the couch, blinking rapidly as his mind tries to catch up on what just happened.

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Fifteen minutes until midnight.

Your hands are shaking as you fumble with the cassette tape in your hands. It feels like one of those scenes in the movies where the girl is having the popular guy come into her room, and she can’t do anything normally. The door creaks open, and you see Steve walk in from your peripheral. Gulping, you press play on your radio. The track starts, and you sigh in relief.

You lick your lips, still tasting the cherry from his lips. Standing there, awkwardly, you try to think of a way to break the tension that’s growing in the room. How do you carry on a conversation with someone who you just made out with? Silently thinking to yourself, you fail to notice the sound of Steve's footsteps as he walks up behind you.

“It’s a nice song.” He says, and you jump again.

“Yeah…yeah, totally! It’s one of my favorites.”

When did I turn into such a mumbling loser?

Turning around to face him, you get swept away in his eyes again. His hair is tousled, courtesy of you. It’s only been a minute or two, but the absence of his warmth feels like there’s a void left in your soul. Taking a step closer, you debate if you should just give into impulse again. Steve matches your gaze, and within seconds he’s pulling you in again. His hands cup your face, walking you back until you hit the edge of your bed.

You fall back onto the bed, and Steve follows suit. His hands venture to your thighs, spreading your legs apart so he can rest in between. His lips find your neck, peppering kisses along every inch as he works his way down. He gives steady kisses at your collar bone, then your stomach, and stops when he gets to the hem of your jeans. His eyes are begging for a sign to continue, and so you run your fingers through his hair, nodding your head.

His fingers fumble with your zipper before finally pulling your jeans down. You lift your hips as he slips them off entirely, tossing them onto the floor. His thumb massages circles on your thighs before spreading them open again. The entire situation feels foreign. You’ve kissed people before, and had sex, but something about this feels different. Maybe it’s because it’s with Steve? You’ve fought with this man, both verbally and in arms, and now he’s in between your legs.

His thumb presses against your clit through your underwear, rubbing gentle circles. You inhale sharply, rolling your head back. He increases the pressure, and your breathing becomes labored.

“C’mon, Thespian. Don’t hold back on me, I wanna hear you.” He whispers, noticing the damp spot on your underwear growing.

Your hands grip the bedsheets as he goes faster, it’s getting harder to keep your voice in as the pressure increases between your thighs. Shifting around, you try to close your legs, but Steve uses both of his hands to keep them open. The lack of touch on your clit makes you a little disappointed, but that’s quickly replaced with pleasure once you feel his tongue press up against it. The warm feeling makes you jolt.

“Steve!” You whine out, holding yourself up on your forearms.

He pushes you back down, shifting so your legs rest easy on his shoulders. You can feel him smile against your skin as he kisses your thighs, what a smug bastard.

“I think you’re supposed to take my underwear off before you eat me out.” You mutter, craning your neck to look at him.

“Think? Don’t tell me you’ve never been eaten out before so you have to think about how it’s done.” He hooks the hem of your underwear between his fingers, pulling them down.

“I may not be a whore like you, but I’m not a complete virgin either-” You can’t even finish your sentence before you feel Steve blow cold air against your wet entrance.

His grip on your thighs tighten, and you bite your lip in anticipation. Closing your eyes, you feel his warm tongue lick a stripe against your slit. He stops at your click, pressing against it before beginning to flick it slowly. You squirm around, the blooming feeling in your stomach growing by the second. His mouth encloses against your pussy, and you hear him moan. The noise vibrates against your skin, and you begin to pant. He hollows out his cheeks and begins to suck. All of a sudden you’re seeing stars as he devours you like a man hungry for more. Back arching off the bed, your fingers run through his hair as you try to hold onto whatever composure you have left.

One of his hands lets go of your thighs and slides in between your legs. His digits begin to poke at your entrance, and your breath hitches as you feel two go inside. You hear your own wetness as he curls his fingers inside, breathing becoming louder as he peppers kissing along your clit.

His mouth detaches, and he readjusts his position. You notice the shiny gloss smeared against his mouth, courtesy of your arousal. He licks his lips clean, staring directly at you.

“Pervert…” You say, breathlessly.

“You’re in no position to talk with the way you’re clenching down on me. It’s like you don’t wanna let me go.”

Your jaw hangs open, the audacity of this guy to tease you at a time like this? He masterfully begins to move his fingers, trying to get you adjusted to his touch. The once faint pants now turn into whiney moans as he continues to curl his fingers in and out. His other hand finds your clit again, rubbing it in circles with his thumb. Your back arches again as you try to inch closer, wanting to feel him as deep as possible. There’s a specific spot he touches that makes your eyes grow wide, and he notices. Picking up the pace, he begins to touch that spot over and over again. Unable to contain yourself, the moans leave your lips in a melodic aria. There’s a knot in your stomach that keeps growing the faster Steve goes.

Clenching your eyes shut, you cry out Steve’s name repeatedly as you become undone. Steve lets out a gasp as he feels you clench around his fingers repeatedly.

He takes his fingers out, your slick still attached as he does. He holds his hand up to his face, and you feel slightly embarrassed. His fingers are practically dripping, your wetness slowly making its way down his hand.

“If you sang like that in the car,” He brings his fingers up to his tongue, “I wouldn’t have given you such a hard time.”

Slowly, he licks the essence off of his fingers, keeping his eyes locked onto yours. You sit up on your forearms again, feeling the wetness between your thighs. You watch as Steve begins to take off his shirt, noticing the considerable amount of chest hair he has now. He was practically hairless back in high school, at least from what you saw in gym class.

“Enjoying the view?” he quips, throwing his shirt on the floor.

“Yeah…I’m really digging the chest hair.” You say sarcastically, but you can’t lie to yourself completely. Maybe it’s the hormones, or the fact that he just ate you out beyond belief, but he’s never looked hotter.

He takes off his pants, leaving him in his underwear. You feel the weight of the bed shift as he climbs back on, and immediately his lips are on yours again. His hands travel underneath your shirt to unhook your bra. He fiddles with it for a second before it unclasps.

Breaking from the kiss, you remove it from underneath your shirt, tossing it who knows where. Steve pushes you down onto the bed again, his hands cupping your breast as he kisses your neck. He squeezes slightly before pinching your peaks between his fingers, eliciting a whimper from you. He kisses along your neck, moving down to your chest. His fingers work to lift your shirt up, exposing your bare breasts to the cold air.

His tongue traces circles around your nipples before his mouth envelops it. His hand gropes the other one, making sure that it doesn’t feel any neglect as he begins to roll your nub between his teeth, his tongue flicking across the tip. Your hand reaches down, fingers cascading across his skin as you feel for the hem of his underwear. Steve laughs against your breast, understanding your desperation. He detaches himself from your chest, licking his lips.

“Do you have any…?” He trails off.

“Condoms, Steve? Is that the word you’re too shy to speak out loud?”

He scoffs, “Yes, do you have any?”

“Top drawer in the little floral container.”

Steve walks to your dresser, hellbent on finding the condoms. You take off your shirt, tossing it towards your other discarded clothing. Steve’s holding the packet between his lips as he tears it open. His bravado ceases once he sees you waiting on the bed, the glow of anticipation dancing on your face.

All of a sudden he feels it's the first time again.

He snaps out of his trance, joining you in the bed again. You lay on your bed, staring at the ceiling as you hear the crinkling of the wrapper being tossed away. Steve climbs in between your legs again, his hand cupping the side of your face.

“Are you okay with this?” He asks, dark brown eyes looking for any sign of hesitation.

“Yeah, yeah I am.” You hold onto his hand that’s on your face.

Steve nods, leaning away. You inhale as you feel the pressure from below build, a groan escaping your lips as he begins to enter. He takes it slow, hand encasing yours as he bends forward. He leans in, kissing the sides of your jaw before making his way towards your lips. Before he can continue, there’s a loud bang outside, followed by the sound of your alarm clock going off.

The loud noises continue, and it’s only then that you realize that people are shooting off fireworks, the new year has arrived.

“Happy new years.” Steve says.

You snap out of your daze, coming back to reality. Steve stills his movements, checking to make sure you’re okay. When you had asked for a little more excitement in your life, this isn’t what you were picturing, but it seems…appropriate. All of the teasing and jokes built up tension that was leading somewhere, and maybe this is just where the both of you were meant to end up.

“Happy new years.” Your hands find the back of his neck pulling him in for another kiss.

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The next morning, you wake up to the smell of breakfast coming from beyond your bedroom door. In a panic, your heart leaps through your chest, thinking that your mom had already come home. She can’t know that Steve stayed overnight…or the fact that you slept with him.

Throwing on some clothes, you run outside, hoping you can explain yourself before she has a chance to lecture you.

“Mom, nothing happened!” You yell frantically.

It seems as though you got ahead of yourself, because the person in your kitchen wasn’t your mom, but Steve himself. He turns around, eyebrow raised at your crazy demeanor.

“Still half asleep, Thespian? Or did I magically morph into your mom overnight?” He flips over a pancake, the sizzling snapping you back into reality.

“I thought…I thought you were my mom.” You take a breath, pulling up a chair and sitting by the kitchen counter.

“Well, I am using the pancake recipe she gave me. I guess I’m halfway there.” He slides over a plate towards you. When did he learn to be domestic?

You take a bite, and it actually does taste like the pancakes your mom makes. It’s to be expected, she shares recipes with Steve simply out of adoration.

“So…do you always make breakfast for the girls you sleep with?” You ask.

Steve turns off the stove, “No, I guess you’re just that special.”

You shake your head at the sarcasm, but to be honest, you’re kind of grateful that he cooked. Eating only banana pudding for dinner was not the best idea. He eats standing up, which is odd because there’s a seat right next to you.

He’s not being shy, is he?

A small smirk etches its way onto your face at the thought. Steve “the hair” Harrington is shy after a night of coitus, with you of all people? There are victory bells ringing in your head, and it seems like Steve can hear them. He pours syrup over his stack, and some of it spills onto his fingers.

Closing the bottle, he brings two of his fingers up to his face, licking them clean while keeping eye contact with you. The victory bells all of a sudden turn silent as you realize that there’s no way this bastard can be shy, he’s brave enough to tease you this early in the morning.

He notices the way your smile freezes and begins to laugh.

Oh, so everything’s a joke to him?

“I’m just teasing, don’t get your panties in a twist. Oh, wait, you can’t. They’re still on the floor.”

You scream in what can only be described as dramatic agony. Steve covers his ears, stepping back just in case you retaliate.

“Were you always this vulgar?” You ask.

“You’ve never slept with me before so I never had a reason to be.”

You fake a laugh, angrily stabbing your stack of pancakes. There’s silence as the two of you eat, but every now, and then you steal glances at him, and he does too.

“About last night…” He trails off.

Oh god, he’s not about to say it was a mistake, is he?

“What, was it not up to your expectations?” You push your plate to the side, getting up to grab a glass of water to prepare yourself for whatever he has to say. Rejection? A confession? Whatever it may be, your stomach was doing backflips.

“What? No, no, that’s not it. I just wanna know how you feel about it, cause for me, it was…good.” His eyes wander around your figure before looking down. You notice his fingers fiddling with each other, gripping his jeans.

You were wrong, this is what he looks like when he’s being shy. He looked like a sad puppy, especially with those big brown eyes of his. You swallow the anxiety you were feeling earlier.

“It was good for me too. I mean, I’m not really used to the whole one night stand thing but-”

Steve's ears perk up once you mention the one night stand. Sure, he had a lot of playboy tendencies in high school, that’s one of the things that made him “King Steve”, but that’s not who he is anymore. He smiles, remembering how you had said that he lost his royal touch last night, who would have thought that you would hit the nail right on the head.

“That’s not…” He hesitates, wondering if he should even continue.

You look at him, and you can feel your heart thump against your chest. It’s a similar feeling to the one you felt last night, when he was wiping your lips. This time, he’s not even close to you, yet you can still feel the proximity.

“It wasn’t a one night stand to me, rather it didn’t feel like one. That, I mean you, you were wonderful.” He holds his breath, waiting for your response.

You look at him like a deer caught in the headlights, and Steve realizes that he may have been a little too…upfront.

“I don’t wanna assume anything! We don’t have to take this anywhere, I don’t want to rush into anything at all. I just wanted to be honest.” He stares at you, hoping that his own words don’t backfire on him.

“Yeah, yeah, I don’t wanna rush into anything either.”

“We should just, y’know, take it…”

“Slow, we should take it slow. Like…extremely.” You finish for him this time.

He nods his head, his lips twitching into a smile that’s both nervous and relieved. The both of you stay quiet, enjoying the shared tranquility. Neither of you feel the need to speak, having said everything that needs to be said. It almost feels like a dream.

The peacefulness doesn’t last for long, and the thought of this moment being a dream is quickly shattered once you hear yelling from outside your front door.

“MIKE, I SAID I HAVE IT IN MY ROOM!”

Suddenly, your stomach is clenching itself. That’s Dustin’s voice, and you take a wild guess that he’s brought company. Somehow, this is slightly worse than your mom coming home early.

“He can’t know that you’re here!” You whisper, panicking as you try to figure out how to evade the possible awkwardness of Dustin finding out that Steve spent the night.

“My car’s parked in your driveway, he’s gonna find out one way or another.” Steve hisses back. Your anxiety seems to be transferring onto him.

You grab his car keys from the counter, tossing it over to him.

“You’re here to take me to the car shop,” You proceed to grab your shoes, sliding into them with haste, “That’s why your car’s parked outside.”

“Whoa, I’m taking you to a car shop? When did this happen?” Steve’s brows knit together, watching you run back and forth to get ready.

“Keep up, big head. We need a reasonable explanation as to why you’re here. It just so happens that my car got towed last night, so I need someone to drive me to the car shop.” You put on your jacket, grabbing the note that the tow truck driver gave you last night with the address.

“Wait, is that Steve's car?” Says Mike's voice from outside.

“Do you understand the plan?” You ask.

Steve nods, slightly out of fear that you may hurt him if he doesn’t agree. The doorknob begins to shake, and you can hear Dustin’s house keys jingling from the other side. Giving yourself one final patdown, you take a deep breath, hoping that you look natural enough.

The door opens, and in comes Dustin, along with Mike and Lucas.

Oh great, it’s the entire entourage.

“Why are you two here together?” Dustin asks, immediately getting to the point.

“Well, good morning to you too, little brother. Um, Steve here is going to take me to,” You pull out the note from the tow truck driver, “Myers Mechanic Shop.”

“Mechanic shop, why are you going to a mechanic shop?” Dustin questions again. Lucas and Mike watch from the sidelines, a little lost about what’s going on.

“I don’t know if you noticed, but my car isn’t in the driveway. It was towed last night. I need to go and get it.”

“Holy shit, your car got towed?” Mike asks, astonished.

“It’s not an accomplishment, it’s a pain in the ass. Mom’s not here, so I had to go around until I found someone who’s available to drive me.” You smile, feeling satisfied with your explanation.

Dustin laughs, “Mom’s gonna kill you.”

“Yeah, yeah, she might, but what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.” You grab your own car keys, heading for the door.

“Wait, if your car got towed, how did you get home?” Dustin stops you again, still feeling inquisitive.

“I hitchhiked!” You yell, rushing out of the door.

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A week went by, and your mom still has no idea about your towing incident…or the other incident. For once, Dustin decided to be a complying younger brother, keeping quiet about the seventy dollars that you spent getting your car back with a new wheel. A true punch to your wallet.

Luckily, the school season resumed for the spring semester, allowing you to spend most of your time on campus. Senior year has kept you busy for the most part, and the anxiety of college acceptances is keeping you on your toes.

“Jonathan also wants to go to Emerson?” You ask, poking at your portion of cafeteria mac & cheese.

“Yeah, we both agreed on it. It’ll give us a chance to broaden our journalistic abilities, and I think we have a pretty good shot. I mean, I’m already the editor of the Hawkins post and Jonathan's doing photography work back in California.”

Nancy’s in the middle of telling you about her trip to California. She had only returned a few days prior to the beginning of the spring semester, and this was the first time you’ve actually managed to have a conversation with her.

“I always thought he wanted to go to NYU.” You say, remembering how Jonathan mentioned it in passing during a conversation.

“Yeah, I thought that too, but he seemed pretty okay with the idea of going to Boston.” Nancy takes a bite of her food, lost in thought.

The cafeteria is loud, which makes it anything but the ideal environment to ponder over your future. You had sent in your college applications a month prior. Some back up schools, but the one you’re hoping for is Boston University. Their school of theater is one of the best, and it’s been your goal to attend since freshman year.

The university had auditions during last summer, and you were able to attend. You were able to meet the faculty and perform for them. Some monologues and other tiny pieces that you memorized, all within the span of ten minutes. Sometimes you can’t tell what was scarier, your audition or fighting the mind flayer.

“So, what did you do for New Years?” Nancy asks.

“I went to a party that was raided by cops, and then got my car towed.” You say casually, as if it wasn’t the biggest pain in the ass to deal with.

“Yeah, Mike told me about your car,” She takes a swig of her milk carton, looking at you suggestively, “He also said that Steve was at your house, early in the morning.”

You scoff, “I had to get a ride to get my car back.”

That little shit can’t keep his mouth closed.

Nancy raises her brow, “Oh really?”

“Don’t look at me like that. You weren’t available, and my mom wasn’t sober enough to drive home. He was the only other person with a car.”

There’s a smirk plastered across her face, as if she knows better than to trust what you’re saying. To be fair, she has a right to not believe you, after all you were fibbing, just a tiny bit. The both of you continue to eat and chatter, with you mainly trying to dodge questions of how you got home after your car was towed.

In the middle of drinking your water, a hand slams down on the table to your left. You nearly choke on your drink, glancing to the side to see who had the audacity to bother you.

“Do you mind, Dustin?” You grumble, coughing to clear your throat of any remaining water.

“Yes, I need to know if you rented Battle for Endor. Mike and Lucas are coming over to watch it tonight.” Dustin sits next to you, pushing you to the side.

“You asked me to get it for you this morning, it’s barely noon!”

“Please, just go to Family Video and rent it out. I’ll pay you back, I promise.” He clasps his hands, practically begging.

“Pay me back with what? Couch change?”

“I’ll figure out a way, just get it!”

Nancy watches as the both of you begin to argue, glad that Mike didn’t decide to join in. She glances over at the table where he and Lucas are sitting, all sporting the infamous hellfire t-shirts. It was dorky enough that they played campaigns in the basement, but now there’s a club?

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It’s past five when you leave campus. Now that you’re president of the drama club, the amount of responsibilities that are shoved into your arms are too many to count. It seems like everyone forgot how to act properly after winter break because today’s meeting was absolute chaos.

You drive up to Family Video, and thankfully there are plenty of parking spaces. The door jingles as you enter, and behind the counter is Steve, who looks to be sorting out papers. You haven’t seen him since you got your car back. He looks up from the counter, surprised to see you.

“Oh, hey. What are you doing here?” He puts down the stack of papers he was holding, sliding them to the side.

You walk up to the counter, “Dustin wants me to rent out this movie, The Battle for Endor or something like that.”

“Oh yeah, we got that in not too long ago. It’s in the back, with the rest of the sci-fi stuff.” Steve points towards a back corner of the store.

You squint your eyes, trying to see through the maze of shelves full of tapes.

“I can show it to you, if you want.” Steve says, noticing your lost expression.

You nod your head, and he jumps over the front counter, sliding onto his feet as he begins to walk towards the back of the store. He walks a little unevenly, humming a tune to try to keep himself calm. His fingers skim through the tapes, stopping once he finds the one you need.

“Here it is, the one with the teddy bears.” he tosses it over to you.

“Teddy bears? They’re called Ewoks, even I know that.”

“They’re small and fluffy, basically the same thing.”

You roll your eyes, wondering how the hell he managed to get this job when he has no knowledge of movies whatsoever. You look at the price, rustling through your wallet to see if you have any money left. Steve follows your gaze, watching you pull out cash.

“I can give you a discount, if you want.” he says.

You raise a brow, “A discount off of two dollars?”

“Yeah, I mean you spent a lot of money at that mechanic shop, I figured it would be nice to save a couple of bucks.” He leans against the shelf, crossing his legs and arms as he tries to be nonchalant.

There are stomps heard from around the corner, getting closer and closer to where the both of you are standing.

“Harrington! Why are you hiding back here?”

It’s Keith, the guy that used to work at the arcade.

“I’m just helping out a customer.” He grabs the tape from your hands, waving it around.

“I need you in the front, not mingling back here with…” Keith stares at you, fearing to even say your name.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll get to the front in a second.” Steve basically shoos him away, still holding onto your tape, as he begins to walk back towards the check out counter. You follow behind, still holding onto your cash.

After rejecting his offer for a discount, you grab the tape from the counter, fingers brushing against his as you do. There was a time when even touching him would make you squirm, but it’s not so bad now.

“See you Thursday.” You say, locking eyes with him.

“Thursday?” he asks.

“Dinner, you’re coming, right? Mom’s gonna be disappointed if you don’t.”

“Oh! Yeah, definitely, I’ll be there.”

Steve watches you leave, letting out a deep breath once you exit through the door. He looks at his palms, wiping the clamminess off onto his jeans.

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Thursday night dinners with Steve Harrington were a common occurrence in your house. What was a once in a while event turned into him coming over once a week. At the very beginning, you were hesitant to eat at the same table as him. He was still “King Steve” in your eyes, the guy that gave you shit for just existing.

There isn’t an exact moment where he started being tolerable. Sometimes you think it’s due to the gradual increase in proximity. From fighting monsters to having dinner, he was practically everywhere. For both freshman and sophomore year, you avoided him like the plague, and that worked until he burst through the doors of the Byers house that one night.

That one night would lead to a cascade of repeated encounters, and eventually you saw past the crown he once wore. He’s kind, brave and stands up for his friends. No longer the coward “King Steve”, he had morphed into someone more humble.

So here you are, many months later. It’s early February now, and he’s over for dinner like every other Thursday. Dustin’s rambling on about his D&D club, and you’re tuning most of it out. You play with the lone meatball on your plate, rolling it around.

Today was the first round of auditions for the spring production, and it was a mess. You rest your head on your hand, trying not to fall asleep at the dining table, but Dustin’s making it very hard not to with all the talk about his campaigns. Your breath slows, and you feel your eyes begin to close. As you begin to slip into a long awaited slumber, you feel something rub against your leg.

Opening your eyes, you see Steve looking at you from across the table. He looks to the left with his eyes, and you follow his gaze. Dustin’s staring at you, as if he’s waiting for something.

“What?” You say.

“I asked if you could swing by for one of our campaigns, Gareth got the stomach flu, so we’re down one man.” Dustin takes a sip of his coke, waiting for an answer.

“What…? Dustin, I’m busy. What makes you think I have time to crash one of your campaigns?” You rub your eyes, now fully awake once more.

“Because you’re my sister, and you should be there for me when I need help.”

“I don’t even play D&D! Where would I even fit in?”

The both of you begin to argue, becoming the main source of entertainment for the rest of the dinner. By the end, you had a headache and Dustin resorted to retreating to his room. You lay your head on the table, listening as Steve says his farewells to your mother. After the door shuts, you relax your shoulders a little.

“You know better to fight like that in front of a guest.” Your mom says, furiously scrubbing the dishes.

“Mom, it wasn’t a fight. It was barely a squabble, Dustin's just being a moody teenager.”

“That doesn’t matter. Dinner is supposed to be a time to unwind, not fight with your brother about his D&D game.”

You rub your temples, trying to gather whatever inner peace you have left. Unfortunately, the sound of her gasping interrupts whatever attempts of relaxing you had in mind

“I forgot to give him the banana pudding I made! Quick, Y/n, go to the fridge and get the container and give it to him before he leaves.”

Her words punch you in the stomach. Even the words banana pudding make your head spin.

“Just give it to him next week, I’m sure he can live.” You say.

“Get up now, young lady.”

You groan, reluctantly grabbing the container from the fridge. The cold air hits you in the face once you step outside, and thankfully Steve was still there warming up his car. He notices you step outside and opens the door to get out.

“What brings you out here?” He asks, leaning against the door.

“My mom forgot to give you this before you left. Better late than never, I suppose.”

“What could this be?” He grabs the container from your hands, eyeing it closely.

“Banana pudding.” You say, trying to stay as nonchalant as possible.

Steve’s cheeks turn a light shade of pink, “Oh, um okay. Yeah, that’s great! Tell her I said thanks.”

He waves around the container a little too much, almost dropping it onto the floor. It’s much more enjoyable watching him be shy about it. Your head starts to hurt again, the cold making it feel worse. You rub your head again, trying to lessen the tension.

“You okay?” Steve asks.

“I’m fine, my head just hurts. It’s been a long day.”

Steve observes for a moment, watching as your hands venture over to rub your eyes. He places the container in the driver's seat, using his free hands to grasp the sides of your face. Before you have time to process, he proceeds to blow air in your face.

“What the hell?” You say, swatting away his hands.

There’s a smile on his face, like that of a kid who’s messing around.

“That’s what my mom used to do when I was upset or in pain. I figured I can try it out on you.”

You laugh, “Blowing in my face? What’s that supposed to do?”

“It’s not a medical marvel, but it got you to stop rubbing your head.”

You roll your eyes, but you have to admit, it was a cute attempt at making you feel better. Steve grips onto his car door, foot tapping hastily against the cement floor.

“Say,” He begins, grip getting tighter by the second, “Are you doing anything for Valentine's Day?”

You raise your brows, “Me? Why?”

“Just wondering…if you had any plans.”

No way, is he trying to ask me out on a date?

“Who knows, I might. There could be a line of suitors waiting at my door next Friday night.” You shrug to remain cool, but the smirk on your face is clearly giving away your true emotions.

“Ha ha, very funny. I’m just saying…if you’re free, maybe we could?” He tilts his head, hoping that you catch his drift.

“Are you planning something, or is it just left up to interpretation?”

“Just leave your calendar open. What’s the worst that can happen?” Steve gives you one last smile before sitting back down in the car.

You watch him drive off, wondering what in the world he could have planned. Especially since the both of you were taking things extremely slow.

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The week had long gone by, and Steve’s eager for his shift to end. It’s Friday, Valentine's Day, and he’s still stuck at Family Video. He checks his watch for the fifth time, and only 10 minutes have passed since he started.

Five O’clock the watch reads, and he still has thirty more minutes of his shift even though he asked for an early leave. The flowers hidden in the back seat of his car are sure to be wilting by now, or maybe that’s just his anxiety talking to him. He got an assorted bouquet because he just couldn’t figure out which one was perfect. The florist was confusing him with all of the botany terminology and meanings of the flowers.

He looks out the windows of the store, staring at his car. He could have brought the flowers inside, but then Robin and Keith would start asking questions. You said to take things slow and keep it a secret, so why shouldn’t he do everything in his power to stay in your good graces?

“Okay dingus, that’s like the hundredth time you’ve checked your watch. Why are you so eager to leave?” Robin asks, rolling over a dolly of new shipments.

“Can’t a guy just wanna get out of work early and hit the town?”

“Hit the town? Don’t tell me you asked for an early leave to go drinking?”

“Not drinking, I just don’t want to be stuck at work the entire night. It’s Valentine's Day, it’s supposed to be a night for bachelors such as myself to go do bachelor things.” Steve bites his tongue, fearing that he’s overselling it.

“Yeah, if the bachelor can get a date.” Robin snickers.

“Hey, I’ve gotten dates!”

“But you can’t keep them. Either you’re a complete dork and they lose interest or they’re ‘just not right’ according to you.”

“Who knows, maybe I’ll meet the one tonight? Maybe, my nights of being a bachelor will be over starting tonight.” Steve points to the counter to emphasize his message, but he pokes too hard and hurts himself in the process.

Robin rolls her eyes, moving the dolley towards the back storage room. Steve looks at his watch again, and barely three minutes have passed. He groans audibly, burying his face in his hands. This shift could not go any slower.

He rearranges the shelves to make time go faster, and surprisingly it works. Once his watch begins to beep, he’s practically out the door, yelling goodbye to Robin in the process. He takes out the flowers from the back seat that he hid under a blanket, mainly so that Robin wouldn’t see, and puts them in the passenger seat. After he hears the engine roar to life, he pulls out of the parking lot as fast as possible, hell bent on not wasting any time getting to your house.

It begins to rain on the drive there, but that’s not slowing him down. He’s blasting any music he can, trying to calm the voices in his head that are telling him that he’s going to mess up somehow. It’s not like he’s planned anything extravagant, just flowers and maybe a movie. Slow, like the both of you agreed on.

He parks down the street to not alert Dustin who may still be home. He had told Steve that he had plans on going out to cerebro so he could talk to Suzie, but with the sudden downpour, who knows how that went. Steve rustles through his duffle bag that’s on the floor of his back seat. Extra hair spray, a comb, a change of clothes, everything he’d possibly need to look presentable.

While doing his hair, he almost suffocates himself when he sprays the hairspray. He rolls down the window, aggressively coughing as he tries to get fresh air into his lungs. While his window is rolled down, he notices that a car pulls up to your driveway.

“Who’s that?” He asks himself. It’s not your mom's car, and it’s certainly not yours.

Deciding to ignore it for the time being, he works on how he’s going to greet you. A hello sounded too simple, saying “Happy Valentine's Day” sounded too…relationship-y. He takes a deep breath, trying to calm down. He reminds himself that he’s flirted before, he’s a natural at it.

All of a sudden his mouth turns dry at the thought of trying to flirt with you like he’s done with other girls. You won’t be impressed by him talking about his basketball games, or the fact that he was prom king, mainly because you already knew those things.

Why was he trying so hard in the first place? It’s not like you guys are in a relationship, heck, you’re taking it slow. Maybe the reason he’s finding it so hard to talk to you is because you knew him before the fall of the king. You knew him when he was at his peak. You knew him for who he was, and yet you still managed to find it within yourself to look at him with kindness now.

It wasn’t worth stressing over every small detail. Grabbing the flowers, he turns off the ignition, the cold air immediately settling into the car. He looks at his watch one last time.

Five forty-five it reads.

His eyes wander up to your house, and he sees that a person is getting out of the car that pulled up. Looking closer, he notices that they have a bouquet of red roses, just like the ones he saw at your doorstep on New Year's Eve. Rubbing his eyes, he realizes that he knows the person who’s holding the bouquet.

“Mark fucking Lewinsky?” He whispers.

Steve opens the door of his car, watching carefully as Mark walks up to your front door. The porch light comes on, and anxiety immediately seizes his heart. The door opens, and you have a smile plastered across your face, excitement making your face glow.

Steve’s stomach feels like it's twisting around itself watching the scene unfold. The two of you appear to be talking, at least that’s what Steve’s thinking. All he can see is Mark’s broad ass shoulders taking up the whole view.

He tries to ignore the voice in his head telling him that there’s a chance the two of you getting back together. Mark’s a complete dud, the both of you agreed on that last summer. His worries come to a head once he sees Mark lean in for a hug, spinning you around like the both of you are in a cheesy romance movie. The front door quickly closes, and Steve lets out a gasp as though his oxygen had been cut off.

The bouquet in his hand falls to the ground, the rain washing away the loose petals. He stands in the rain, completely soaked and blinking away the rain. His eyes sting, but he can't tell if it's from the rain or the incoming tears that are blurring his vision.

“Stupid…” he rubs his eyes with his hands, “So fucking stupid.”

It was too good to be true. The chance at a relationship with you? A joke, an utter joke. He thought the feelings during New Year's Eve were mutual, that there was a shared connection. Was it just meaningless sex? Was he just a rebound until you found your way back to that crybaby Mark?

The porch light is still on, but everything else feels like a darkness that’s threatening to swallow him whole. His head hangs low, and soon the bouquet he dropped just moments prior gets carried away by the downpour. Each drop of rain feels like a slap to the face, and soon he’s had enough. Getting back into the car, he wipes his face, the warmth of his tears melts together with the rain droplets, and he can't tell which is which anymore.

Once the car turns on, he immediately books it out of your neighborhood, driving in complete silence. His nose scrunches as he feels another onslaught of tears coming in. He keeps telling himself that he was so stupid for being upset, it’s not like the both of you were dating. You were Dustin’s sister, someone who had just entered his life after so many years of resentment. It was barely even a friendship, so why be upset if you picked someone else over him?

His lip quivers as he thinks of your smile. Or your laugh whenever he said something stupid. The way your eyes sparkle when you talk about the things you like. If it was barely even a friendship, then why the hell does he feel like the world stopped spinning when he saw Mark hug you.

He shakes his head free of all the thoughts. Taking it slow, that’s what was agreed upon. Slow, until you didn’t need him anymore, that’s what he thinks.

“Instead of taking it slow, how about we pump the brakes all together.” Steve mutters, gripping the steering wheel.

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You lay on the couch, idly waiting as time passes. Dustin’s in his room, moping because he can’t bike out to cerebro to talk to Suzie. Him being home wasn’t exactly ideal, especially since there’s a high possibility that Steve may make an impromptu visit. You look at the clock again, counting down the seconds.

Five forty-five it reads.

The anticipation is killing you. Alone on a Friday night, waiting for a guy who may or may not come. Your suspense is cut in half when the doorbell rings three consecutive times. A jolt of electricity runs through your body, and immediately you jump off of the couch.

“Holy shit he actually came…” you whisper, trying to catch your breath.

Your fingers tingle as you grab the door knob, and a smile slowly spreads itself across your face. Who knew that Steve Harrington would have you giddy like this?

You swing the door open, smile on full display, but the person in front of you isn’t the one you were expecting. Mark takes a step towards you, flowers in hand.

“Hey.” he whispers. You can smell some alcohol from his breath.

“Mark? What are you doing here?” Your brows furrow, a scowl replacing your once elated expression.

He takes a deep breath, “It’s Valentine's day. I just…I was hoping that we could…y’know.”

“Could what? We’re not dating, Mark. There’s nothing for us to do.”

“Just listen-” Mark loses his balance, his free hand grabbing onto the door.

“Listen to what, your drunken rambling? Did you have to drink a bottle to get the courage to come talk to me instead of leaving flowers by my door like a creepy ass stalker?”

“I miss you! I miss us. I know I was a bad boyfriend last year, but I’ve changed. Just give me a chance.” He hunches over, and you’re afraid that he’s gonna throw up at your feet.

“Ah jeez, don’t hurl on me,” You step back, “I don’t want to get back together with you…besides, I’m seeing someone else.”

A slight fib, but it’s not like you need to tell Mark the full story, it’s none of his business.

“Please, just give me a chance,” He steps forward again, this time stumbling into your arms, “I’ll treat you better.”

You hold his weight, as he seems to be slipping to the floor. Of all people, why did your pathetic ex boyfriend have to come to your door drunk?

“Change? You’re still acting like a goddamn crybaby.”

Mark wraps his arms around you, drunkenly rambling as he lifts you off of the floor. You yell at him to let you go, but he just keeps crying. His foot hits the door, and it shuts with a thud.

“Get off of me you, goddamn pussy.” You knee him in the crotch, and he falls to the ground.

In the midst of his tears, you yell for Dustin, asking for some assistance to “take out the trash.”

“What the hell do you want?” Dustin walks out of his room, visibly irritated. He stops mid step once he sees Mark on the floor, crying against the wall.

“Help me kick this douchebag out of our house.” You point to Mark, annoyed by the sound of whining.

“How did he get inside?” Dustin walks to the storage closet, grabbing a broomstick.

You look at him in confusion, wondering what the hell he’s planning on doing with that.

“He’s drunk and fell on me cause he can’t keep his goddamn balance.”

Dustin walks over, poking Mark with the end of the broom like he’s trying to sweep him away. Annoyed, you walk towards the door, slamming it open.

“Okay, asshole. Get the hell out of our house.” You turn towards Mark, hands on your hips.

“Move!” Dustin shoves him with the broom again, knocking Mark over.

Like a slug, Mark picks himself up and trudges towards the door. He takes one last look at you before leaving, hoping that you’ll reconsider, but all he gets is a look of disgust. You watch as he gets into his car, waiting until he pulls out of the driveway. Dustin pushes past you, holding the bouquet in his hands.

“Eat shit asshole!” He yells, throwing the bouquet at Mark's open window.

“Nice throw.” You pat Dustin's back, watching as Mark scurries away.

“Please find better people to date.” Dustin sighs, walking back to his room.

You stand by the door a little longer, watching as the rain comes down harder. The streets are dark and still, not a person in sight. Closing the door, you walk back to the couch, waiting until Steve arrives.

The hours tick by, and the bowls of snacks on the coffee table increase. You open another candy bar, adding to the growing pile of wrappers next to you.

Seven o’clock. Then nine. Then ten, all without him. The only person to even walk through the front door was your mom after she returned from work.

“Are you waiting for someone?” she asks, walking up to your huddled figure on the couch.

“No, this was the plan. Eat a bunch of junk food and watch Casablanca on repeat.” You say dryly, clutching your blanket tighter.

“I would have figured that you had some other plans.” She sits down next to you, grabbing a Milky Way from your uneaten chocolate pile.

“Yeah, I thought that too.”

Midnight hits, and you lose whatever hope you had left. Fatigue pulls at your body, and you give in, falling asleep on the couch.

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The weekend goes by in a blur. Saturday morning was spent in the bathroom, sitting by the toilet as you threw up all the candy from the night prior. Who would have thought that eating your feelings wasn’t the best idea?

Despite all of the nausea, you still didn’t know if throwing up was worse than being blown off on Valentine's Day. It’s a little humiliating how long you stayed up, just waiting for the doorbell to ring. The guy tells you to keep your calendar open, and then just doesn’t come? Dick move.

Crawling off of the bathroom floor, you walk towards Dustin's room, banging on his door. There’s a thud on the other side, presumably him falling off of his bed. The door swings open, revealing a half asleep Dustin.

“What is wrong with you?” He asks, voice cracking.

“Did…” You hesitate, wondering if it’s even worth it to ask, “Did Harrington talk to you at all, like recently?”

“Harrington? Are you talking about Steve?”

“Obviously, it’s not like I’m curious about his dad.”

Dustin rolls his eyes, “We talked on Friday. Why?”

“Don’t worry about it, I’m just checking in on your friends.”

“Out of all of my friends, you ask about Steve?”

“I said don’t worry about it. Now go back to sleep.” You push him back into his room, closing the door.

You click your tongue, nostrils flaring. Steve Harrington actually stood you up, and you were dumb enough to actually think he would come over.

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Monday morning, you’re scribbling down notes in History. It’s practically a free period since Mr. Harris decided to just pass out a worksheet and play a movie instead of teaching. A very boring movie at that. Every so often you stop paying attention to the movie and start listening in on the conversation going on behind you.

Brenda Collins and Stephanie Johnson, your lovely seatmates, regularly had these kinds of conversations during class. It made some days a hell of a lot more interesting, plus it kept you up to date with all of the latest gossip about people you don’t care about. But they didn’t know that. To them, you always faced the front, seemingly paying attention to the lecture and writing in your notebook.

Pretending to write, you lean back in your chair a little, wondering what they’re going to say next.

“Yeah, I dumped Daniel because I saw him with another girl on Valentine's Day. What a jerk.” Stephanie whispers.

Good for you, Stephanie.

“Forget Daniel, you know who was a real hottie? Steve Harrington.” Brenda says, letting out a dramatic sigh.

“Oh yeah! I miss seeing him in the hallways, too bad he graduated.”

You force yourself to not have a physical reaction. All weekend you’ve been trying to understand why you were stood up, which eventually led to you trying to forget about the situation entirely, and now he’s being brought up in passing during a gossip session that you’re not even a part of?

“Y’know, he works at Family Video. We should stop by and pay him a visit after school.” Brenda says. You can hear the sound of her smacking her gum, and the noise is putting you on edge.

“It’s kind of cute when he flirts, adds to the charm.”

You grip your pencil tighter with each comment they make. It gets to the point where your palms are so clammy that the pencil shoots out of your grip, landing on the floor. You exhale, picking it up. So what, people think Steve’s cute, that’s not exactly breaking news.

All of a sudden, there are bells ringing in your head. He couldn’t have stood you up because he was with another girl, right? He’s a total slut, but that was in the past right? Before you know it, the bell rings. You grab your things, face tense as you head to your next class.

The rest of the day is spent contemplating. From class, to lunch, to casting for the upcoming play. Multitasking isn’t easy, but hell you managed to make it work. It’s six by the time you’re running back to your car, hands shaking as you floor it to Family Video.

“He better have such a good explanation for this.” You say to yourself, pulling into a parking spot.

You slam the door, keys jingling in your pockets as you begin to walk towards the video store. You can see him through the clear glass doors and windows, by the front counter as always, but something's different this time.

He’s talking to someone, a girl that you can’t recognize. She trails her hands up his arm, and he smiles. For some reason, you can’t look away. It’s like your eyes are glued to the scene, watching as she leans in to kiss him on the cheek, sliding something into his pocket while he’s not paying attention.

Keith walks over, presumably lecturing Steve like always. You feel like the air is made of lead, each breath making your body feel heavier. Taking a step back, you try to gather your thoughts.

Was I just another one of his conquests?

You finally peel your eyes off of him, running back to the car. The radio’s on full blast as you drive home, trying not to cry. He wasn’t your boyfriend, he wasn’t even a lover or anything remotely like that. He’s Steve, the guy you had just recently learned to tolerate. The guy that would take a hit if it meant keeping you and everyone else safe. The guy who began offering you the last dinner roll just out of habit. He’s just…Steve.

Once you get home, you slam the front door shut behind you. Dustin’s sitting on the couch, playing Atari. His head turns over once he hears the door shut.

“What is with you and slamming doors?” He asks.

You look at him, a slow frown forming on your face. It’s like all the emotions you bottled up on the drive home were escaping through the cracks. Dustin notices the way your eyes gloss over, and he immediately sets down his controller.

“What happened?” He gets up, walking towards you.

You wipe your face with your sleeve, but the pain still remains. Before long, the first tear rolls down, followed by many more. Your legs feel like jello as you slide down against the door, burying your face in your hands. Dustin’s hands are on your shoulders, asking questions that you just can’t answer.

“Seriously, you’re kind of freaking me out. Do I need to call mom?”

“Don’t call mom, I just need a second.” You take a deep breath, trying to ground yourself.

Dustin continues to sit with you, talking about anything and everything to help distract you. Even Tews makes her away over to your lap, joining the party.

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By Wednesday, you managed to ignore most of the lingering feelings about being stood up. Hawkins may be a small town, but it’s big enough to avoid one person. Thursday nights will be spent eating dinner at the Wheelers and studying with Nancy, anything to avoid being at home. You also made it clear to Dustin that you can’t rent out any more movies, refusing to further elaborate as to why.

Unfortunately, your efforts to stay focused on tasks at hand are no match for the turmoil hidden deep within. Script readings after school are spent staring at the words on the pages, getting lost in translation. A Midsummer Night's Dream, chosen by Mrs. Duran herself. Instead of being a part of the cast, your last contribution to Hawkins High’s drama club is to help direct the final play of the school year.

Mrs. Duran kept you long after everyone else left, going over all the small details. After doing one final check over the material, she finally frees you of your duties for the day. Returning home felt like a reward after such a long day. When you pull up to your driveway, you notice that your moms car is also there.

“Weird, she didn’t say she’d be home early…” You mumble, grabbing your backpack from the passenger's seat.

Opening the front door, you toss your keys onto the counter.

“Mom, you didn’t tell me you’d be home early-”

You stop mid sentence, frozen in the doorway. The dining table is full tonight. You lock eyes with someone who you planned to never see again. Steve, who’s taking a casserole dish from your moms hands, spares you a glance. He tenses, setting down the dish.

“Hey, Y/n!” Robin, who’s sitting to his right, waves her hand at you.

You snap out of your daze, blinking a few times.

“Hey Robin,” Your backpack slides off of your shoulder, “Nice to see you.”

“You came home at the perfect time. We were just about to start.” Your mom smiles, placing down a plate for you.

“It’s…it’s not Thursday.” You let out an awkward laugh. So much for your whole avoiding plan.

“And? Our guests are more than welcome to come whenever they like. Besides, any company is good company.” She smiles towards Steve.

Your jaw tightens for a moment, but quickly you take a deep breath, dispelling any physical trace of distastefulness. Joining the others at the table, you pull up the chair next to your mom, which just so happens to be the seat across from Steve.

“So, I heard the drama club is gonna do A Midsummer's Dream. I remember them doing that freshman year.” Robin says, biting into one of the cherry tomatoes on her plate.

“Yeah, the teachers figured that spring is the best time to bring it back.”

“I remember going to watch it freshman year, and holy shit the costumes were good. You played one of the little fairy things right?”

“Yeah, the freshmen always play the fairies in the forest.” You let out a soft chuckle, remembering how much fun you had.

“My mind was blown, I barely understood the play when we had to read it in middle school. Steve, do you remember reading it?” Robin nudges Steve, seemingly ignoring his apathetic demeanor.

“I didn’t go watch any of the plays in high school.” He pokes at the casserole on his plate.

“Oh yeah, you were too busy being Mr. Popular. You have to come this time, we can see Y/n’s final act in Hawkins High.”

“I can’t, Keith has me booked for the foreseeable future.” Steve gives Robin a shrug and a slanted smile to say he’s sorry.

“Booked for what? You and I work the same shifts-”

“It’s okay Robin, you can’t force someone into something they clearly don’t want to do.” You look at Steve sternly, even if it pains you to do so. “Besides, I won’t be a part of the cast this time.”

For the first time since you’ve sat down, Steve looks up at you. The sparkle in his eyes is gone, replaced with a dull and dark glaze. You feel your heart beat faster, there’s something about looking him in the eye after he stood you up that makes you want to reach across the table and demand answers. You resist, gripping your fork and finally eating a bite of dinner. What you saw that night at Family Video is all the proof you need. He never liked you in the first place.

“Awe, c’mon. Steve can’t be forced to do anything.” Robin looks over at Steve, still oblivious to the fact that he’d rather not talk.

“You’re right, Robin. Some people just do as they like, not caring about how other people may feel.” You say.

Steve looks at you again, his eyebrow twitching.

“And some people lie straight to other people's faces. Oh wait, lying isn’t the right word, I meant acting. You’d know plenty about that, right?” Steve’s lips curl up into a smile that sits at the edge of contempt.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You ask, setting down your cutlery.

The rest of the dinner party goes quiet, afraid to even swallow. The tension in the air continues to rise by the second, with you and Steve looking at each other like two lions who are fighting over the same prey.

“You know, you’re so good at putting on a performance, I wouldn’t be surprised if your love for acting bled into your personal life.” Steve takes a bite of his food, still giving you that same condescending smile.

“Are you calling me a liar, Harrington?”

“Well if the shoe fits.”

“Whoa, Mrs. Henderson, this casserole is really good. Could I get the recipe-” Robin attempts to deter the conversation, but her attempts are futile.

“Well if we’re taking direct jabs, I assume you’re the expert at multitasking. Seeing as how you can juggle your work and life balance. In fact, you juggle it so well that they collide right at your job.” You say the last part loudly, hands forming into a fist.

Dustin, who had been quiet the entire dinner, looks over at Robin with a face that says SOS. Robin shakes her head, unsure of how to defuse the argument.

“At my job? What the hell are you talking about?” Steve asks.

“You know damn well what I’m talking about. You haven’t changed one bit since high school. Steve Harrington, the guy that can’t just stick with one girl.” You feel like you’re treading into dangerous waters, but it’s too late to take everything back now.

“One girl?” Steve laughs, “You’re one to talk, Thespian. Your cohort of bachelors waiting outside your door is far more impressive than anything I’ve ever done in high school.”

“Okay, I really think we should shift the conversation now.” Robin cuts in again, her sweaty palms slamming down onto the table.

Despite not doing anything physical, both you and Steve are heaving.

“I agree, this kind of behavior isn’t acceptable. The both of you get along so well, what on earth happened?” Your mom finally steps in, clearly shocked at the conversation that had unfolded.

“My apologies, Mrs. Henderson. Let’s drop the subject.” Steve takes a sip of his water, trying to cool down.

It seems as though impulse is still running rampant throughout your body, because before you can even comprehend what exits your mouth, it’s too late.

“Why don’t you drop dea-”

“That’s it young lady!” Your mother throws her napkin on her plate. “Go to your room, right now!”

Steve gets up, his chair creaking behind him.

“I’m afraid that I’ve lost my appetite for the night. Thank you for the meal, Mrs. Henderson.”

“C’mon Steve, we can work this out-” Dustin tries to intervene, but even his efforts are in vain.

“Let’s go Robin.” He begins to walk towards the door.

Robin stutters, clearly stuck between wanting to stay and mend things over and following Steve. She sighs, offering you a sympathetic word, whispering a bye before following him out the door.

Once both of them enter the car, she immediately bombards Steve with questions.

“What the hell was THAT? It’s like watching two wild animals try to bite at each other's necks.”

Steve starts the car, vein bulging out of his neck as he pulls out of your driveway.

“That’s just how it’s always been. We’ve always been at each other's neck, since we’ve known each other.”

Robin shakes her head, “Oh no no. You were boasting about having dinner with her family a few weeks ago. What the hell happened since then?”

Steve bites his lip, contemplating if she should just reveal the secret of New Year's Eve. Talking to someone would help with all of the frustration, and it would make sure he doesn’t say stupid stuff.

“During New Year's Eve,” He inhales, preparing himself for the amount of questions Robin will ask, “Me and her slept together.”

Que the screaming coming from the passenger's seat. Robin’s mouth is agape, a low toned yell echoing from her throat. She stares at Steve as though he just revealed the location of a lost long treasure.

“You slept together? Like sex right, not just falling asleep on the couch? Like sex sex?” She begins to motion her finger in and out of her other hand.

“Yes, Robin. We had sex, it was one night.” Steve gulps, trying not to have flashbacks while he’s driving. “We both agreed that it was good, that we would take things extremely slow. It was practically no strings attached, but there was something there.”

“What, a connection? I don’t think that happens when there’s no strings attached, dingus.”

He scoffs, “I know that, but there was, trust me. Hell, even the way she smiled at me was different. It almost felt like we were flirting, which is crazy to think about.”

“After that fiasco of a dinner, yeah, it is crazy to think about.”

“A week before Valentine's day, I ask her to keep her calendar clear, cause I was gonna surprise her with flowers and stuff on the day of.”

Robin gasps, “Oh my god, that’s why you asked to get off early?”

“Yes. Now let me finish.” Steve readjusts his grip on the steering wheel, replaying the memory of that night. “When I get there, I notice that a car pulls into her driveway, and out walks Mark freaking Lewinsky.”

“No way…”

“He has this big bouquet of red roses that apparently he’s sent to her before because I saw them at her house on New Years Eve. The door opens, and she has this big ass smile on her face like she saw Santa Claus.”

“Seriously, that’s the best you can come up with? Santa Claus?”

“Robin…”

“Sorry, sorry.” Robin puts her hands up in surrender.

“Anyways, she’s smiling, and they talk on the porch, and all of a sudden they’re hugging. He’s spinning her around like it's some cheesy chick flick, and then the door shuts.”

Robin grimaces, “Yeah…that’s a big yikes. Did you stay around to see what happened?”

“What, watch them go at it through her bedroom window like a perv? No. I got my ass out of there with whatever dignity I had left.”

“I just don’t believe that she’d get back together with Mark. He’s a crybaby.”

“Yeah, we’ve established that. But I guess she likes guys who are melodramatic with flat hair.”

“Well, she also seemed pretty upset at you.”

“And I don’t know for what reason.” Steve runs his fingers through his hair. “She has Mark, what would she need me for?”

“Tell me, did you actually like her? Like, not in a sex friend way, but in a I like you kind of way?” Robin bites the inside of her cheek, watching as Steve tries to form a response.

“I guess I did, but I was stupid as hell for that. I’m just not meant for relationships.”

“I think the both of you would have worked, all of that tension has to go somewhere, if you know what I mean.”

“It’s not just about the sex, it was just her in general. At some point, it just became so natural to be next to her, to talk to her. Hell, she would ramble on about stuff I didn’t even understand, but I still paid attention because I wanted to like what she liked.”

“Oh shit…that’s not a playground crush, that’s an actual crush, Steve. You LIKE her.”

“Past tense. It’s not going anywhere now.”

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Inevitably, Steve stopped showing up to the weekly dinners. He forwarded an apology to your mother through Dustin, and to say she was upset was an understatement. She grounded you for two weeks, which was better than her original plan of a month. No friends, no phone, no driving to anywhere but school and back.

By mid-March, college acceptance letters began to roll in for many students. Every morning, there was someone new who was talking about their college of choice. Just hearing people talk about it makes you anxious. Every day after school, you go to check the mail and look for one envelope specifically, but each time you’re left hanging.

On a fresh Friday morning, you wake up early. It’s the final week before spring break, which means by early April, A Midsummer's Day will finally have its opening night. There’s an early morning rally today, so luckily you can skip a bit of first period. After chowing down on your breakfast, you bang your fist on Dustin’s door.

“Let’s go! You can talk to Suzie later, we’re going to be late.”

“In a minute!” he screams back.

“We don’t have a minute.” You open his bedroom door slightly. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Don’t come in, I’m naked!”

Immediately, you shut the door, shuddering. There’s no use dragging him out when he has all of the excuses in the world. Walking back to the kitchen, you grab your car keys, counting down the seconds in your head until you leave him to walk to school.

“I know you’re gonna have a meeting after school today, but remember not to overwork yourself. I know you haven’t been getting enough sleep the past few nights.” Your mom walks out of the kitchen, drying her hands with a towel.

It took a hot second, but the both of you managed to find common ground after the whole dinner fiasco from last month. Originally, she wanted you to apologize to Steve for all the things you said, but that was never going to happen. So, you reached a compromise and apologized to Robin instead, after all she was caught in the crossfire at the end.

“I know mom, but once this play is done I have to focus on finals, and then graduation and then college-”

“Take it one step at a time, the sky isn’t about to fall down so what’s the rush?” She rubs the side of your cheek with her thumb affectionately.

A door creaks open, and Dustin rushes out with his backpack, fixing the cap on his head.

“Okay, I’m ready. Let’s go.” He says.

“Well I’ve been ready,” You turn to your mom, “He’s been like this ever since you let him put that damn radio on our roof.”

“Its name is Cerebro, you know that!” Dustin argues back.

“Who cares? I’m tired of listening to you trying to sweet talk your girlfriend while everyone else is trying to sleep.”

The both of you begin to argue, and your mom inhales deeply, rubbing the sides of her temples. Never a dull moment in the Henderson household. She ushers the both of you out of the house, locking the door after you’re on the porch.

“I’m just saying, just because you don’t have a boyfriend, that doesn’t mean you have to be jealous of my relationship.” Dustin says, walking towards the car.

“Your relationship is something I’ll never be jealous of, Dusty Bun.” You let out a cackle, unlocking the doors of the car.

Dustin looks unamused, pouting as you begin to pull out of the driveway. The drive is swift and smooth, but once you actually get to campus, it’s an utter mess. Everyone’s crowding around each other as they find their way towards the gym. The gym is divided by class years, and you head off towards the senior section.

Nancy’s standing off near the edge, fidgeting with the notepad in her hand. She notices you weaving through the crowd, calling you over to her.

“Over here!” She yells, reaching out her hand.

You grab it, pulling yourself to where she’s standing.

“Holy shit, who knew there would be so many people coming to one of these?” You say, observing as everyone begins to settle down.

“It’s the final pep rally of the season, plus it’s mandatory. School spirit and stuff.” Nancy pulls out her pen, scribbling something down.

“Are you taking notes for the paper? There’s nothing interesting happening yet.”

“It’s just stuff that I’ve been jotting down for the past few days. We have to make our final edits today, and I want everything to be perfect.”

Once the cheer routine is finished, the basketball team rushes through the paper banner, making their grand entrance. You watch as they run by, but once Lucas makes his entrance, both you and Nancy smile. He tried out for the team last October and made it, which unfortunately meant less time for D&D.

Jason, the captain of the basketball team, begins to make his speech. He gives a special shout out to his girlfriend, Chrissy. Awes erupt around you, but all you can do is scoff.

Nancy elbows you, “It’s romantic.”

“It’s a pep rally, not date night.” You whisper back.

Jason goes on to talk about the “fire” that erupted at Starcourt. Of course, the public didn’t know what actually happened. A giant fleshy monster isn’t something that can be easily understood by an average person, so the authorities and military made up a lie that they thought fit best. As the speech goes on, you begin to question if using the tragedy of the mall as motivation to win a basketball game is appropriate.

“Is he for real?” You ask, leaning towards Nancy.

“You know jocks, all they can think about is winning the game.” Nancy rolls her eyes, putting her notepad back into her backpack.

The bell rings, and everyone scatters again.

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“Just move your date this one time. Come on!” Dustin says into the phone.

Since Lucas is going to be playing in the tournament game tonight, the Hellfire club is down a member. Eddie, the leader of the club, tasked both Dustin and Mike to go around asking other people to fill in.

“What, to hang out with you and Eddie the freak Munson? Uh, Yeah, I’ll pass.” Steve says on the other line.

“You’re just jealous because I have another older male friend.”

Steve grimaces, “Ugh. Besides, I really dig this girl. I think she could be the one.”

Dustin paces around the telephone booth, not buying Steve's lousy excuse. He’s said this about every single girl he’s gone out with in the past month

“I got some customers, I’ll call you back later.” Steve hangs up the phone, much to Dustin’s protests.

Feeling defeated, he runs back into the school. There was no way he was going to let Lucas being absent deter Eddie's final campaign. He asks person after person, but it seems as though no one is interested enough in D&D. Entering the auditorium, he yells at the top of his lungs.

“Does anyone want to play D&D?”

You were in the middle of doing the final costume fittings for the cast. Putting down your clipboard, you walk out of the backstage area, eyes on Dustin like a falcon.

“What the hell are you doing here?” you ask.

“Great, you’re here! I need you to sub in for Lucas for tonight's campaign.” Dustin looked at you as though you were his savior.

“What, no. I’m not going to play D&D with you, now go away, you're interrupting our final fitting.”

“Please, please. It’s Eddie's final campaign. I’ll owe you one.”

“I don’t even know Eddie that well. Besides, I didn’t wanna sub in when Garth or whatever his name was got sick, what makes you think I’ll sub in now when I’m at my busiest?”

“Come on, you’re already gonna be staying late, just swing by.” Dustin clasps his hands together, practically begging at this point.

“Dustin, I’m staying late because I have to make sure that everything is perfect before spring break.” You place your hands on your hips, tapping your foot like an angry parent.

Dustin sighs in defeat, walking away. You turn on your heel, returning backstage.

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By five, the basketball game had begun. The music and rumbling could be heard all the way from the gym, but that’s not going to stop you from doing your job. Slowly, as the final preparations were being made, students began to leave to watch the game. Only a handful are left, which is more than fine.

You’re in the middle of talking to Melanie, who’s playing Helena, when someone rushes into the backstage area.

“Carter, what are you doing here? I thought you went to watch the game?” You ask.

Carter, who looked as though he just ran the mile, holds onto one of the walls for balance. He hunches over, mumbling a bunch of nonsense. One of the other students gives him their water bottle, hoping it can help.

“It’s Lisa! She got hit in the face with a basketball.” He says, finally being able to breathe properly.

You do a double take, “She got hit? Oh no no, how bad is it? She’s playing Hermia, she can’t be injured.”

“I think it’s best if you come check it out yourself.”

Taking a deep breath, you follow Carter to the gym. Mrs. Duran put you in charge of the final preparations, so having one of your leads be injured would be one of the worst things to happen. You brace yourself once you enter the gym, noticing that the game has been halted.

Near one of the bleachers, a student is hunched over while the school nurse is wiping away blood.

“Oh god…” you grimace as you get closer.

Lisa’s nose is swollen and bruised, with blood still staining the surrounding skin. The nurse looks panicked as she shuffles through the first aid kit.

“What happened?” You ask, kneeling down to get a closer look.

“One of the players on the other team passed the ball to a teammate…but unfortunately they missed.” Nancy, who was standing nearby, joins in.

“I think we have to take her to a doctor, there’s a chance her nose is broken.” The nurse holds up a tissue to Lisa’s nose, closing the first aid kit.

Fred, one of the people that worked on the paper with Nancy, takes out his camera to take a picture of the scene.

“This will definitely be going in an additional column. I think I’ll call it “Final Play of The School year In Shambles”, It’s got a ring to it.” Fred smiles to himself, but Nancy gives him a disapproving look.

“You put this in the paper and Lisa won’t be the only one with a broken nose.” You deadpan, getting up from your kneeling position.

Lisa begins to cry at the mention of her potential broken nose, but is consoled by one of her friends. She’s escorted out of the gym as everyone watches. You rub your head, trying to piece together how long it would take for an injury like that to heal. In the midst of your thoughts, you feel like someone's burning holes into your back. Taking a glance over your shoulders, you scan the bleachers and lock eyes with Steve.

He looks uninterested, but his eyes narrow once he sees that you’re looking at him. Turning back around, you walk out of the gym, your stomach churning just from the sight of him.

Brenda, Steve's date to the game, taps his shoulder.

“You look upset, are you okay?” She asks.

Steve quickly smiles, “No, no, I’m fine. Just worried about the girl's nose.”

Brenda laughs, “Yeah, me too. I hope she’s okay, I’m looking forward to watching the play. Do you wanna come with me on opening night?”

Steve bites his tongue, trying to figure out the easiest way to say no. The buzzer rings, signaling that the game is going to resume, and he silently lets out a breath of relief. He never expected you to show up at a basketball game of all places, especially when the opening night of your play is so close. The rest of the game, he’s distracted, only letting out hm’s and huh’s in response to Brenda’s questions.

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The next morning, you sleep in, tired from being on your feet all yesterday. The house is quiet, which is the most ideal environment to catch up on some more than needed beauty rest. You toss around in your bed, getting into a comfortable position again, when you hear the sound of the telephone ringing in the kitchen. Deciding to ignore it, you put your blanket over your head. After a few seconds, it begins to ring again.

Groaning, you toss your covers aside, stomping to the kitchen. It seems as though Dustin finally got off of his lazy butt to answer it, and you wonder why he couldn’t have done that the first time.

“It’s for you.” He says, handing over the phone.

You mutter a thanks, holding the phone to your ear before saying hello.

“Meet me at the Forest Hills trailer park in Roane County.” The person on the other line says.

“Nancy? Why are you calling me, I told you I wanted to sleep in.”

“It’s urgent, just come! And watch the news before you arrive, okay?”

She hangs up before you can even ask any questions. You hang the phone up on the wall before walking towards the couch, where Dustin is watching TV. Snatching the remote from him, you begin to shuffle through the channels.

“I was watching that.” He says, trying to get the remote back from you.

“Shush, apparently I need to watch the news.” You finally find the local news, laying back as you along with your mom and Dustin listen in.

“We’re in the Forest Hills trailer park in Roane county, and we don’t have a lot of details right now, but we can confirm that the body of a Hawkins High student was discovered early this morning.” The news reporter says.

Your jaw hangs open as you listen in on the broadcast, as does your families.The victim hasn’t been named yet, but the testimonies from the public are hitting hard. One of them mentions Barb, and you sigh. Nancy probably wants to investigate, that’s for sure.

The front doorbell rings, and Dustin goes to answer it. You take the time to escape back to your room to get ready. After throwing on some clothes, you go through one of your drawers. The news reporter said that there was no foul play involved, but one can never be too sure in Hawkins. You pull out a gun, the same one you kept from Toddfather from last summer, and put it in the inside pocket of your jacket.

When you exit your room, you see that the surprise visitor is none other than Max.

“Where are you going?” Dustin asks.

“I need to meet up with Nancy, don’t do anything stupid, and don’t freak out mom.” You give Dustin’s shoulder a pat and say bye to Max.

Unfortunately, trying to rush past your mom right after watching the news about a murder isn’t the best idea. Your hand is barely on the door knob before she starts asking you questions.

“Where are you going? The news said that we have to stay inside.” She says, consoling Tews in her arms, or rather it’s the other way around.

“I’m just going to meet up with Nancy, love you, bye!” You quickly shut the door, pulling out your car keys to start the car.

You drive to the trailer park as fast as possible, mind occupied with what you watched on the news. Deciding to park near one of the trailers, you discreetly enter the crime scene area, hoping that you’ll go unnoticed by all of the police. After managing to evade them, you notice Nancy pull in.

She gets out of the car, immediately running towards you.

“How’d you get past the cops?” She asks.

“I pulled in behind one of the trailers while they weren’t looking, but that’s not important right now. What the hell happened here?”

“That’s precisely the question I asked,” Nancy pulls out her notepad and a pen, “And you’re going to help me figure it out.”

“What, you invited her?” Another voice says.

You turn around and see Fred, the same guy from last night.

“She’s here to help, Fred. We can trust her, I trust her.” She smiles at you before making her way to one of the trailers.

She knocks on the door of the trailer a few times, and a woman opens the door, rather annoyed. Before Nancy would even say anything other than her name, the woman shuts the door, stating that she’s already talked to the reporters. Fortunately, a simple rejection isn’t going to slow her down. She pulls out another notepad and pen from her bag, tossing it over toward you.

“We’re going to split up and ask around, leave no stone unturned.” She says.

“You want me to talk to people? I’m not a journalist, Nance.” You try to argue, but your attempts prove futile.

“Just ask them some questions, it wouldn’t hurt.”

Both her and Fred scatter in different directions, leaving you to venture off on your own. One by one, you go knock on the trailers of the residents, but they have very little to say about what happened. Most of them didn’t even know anything happened until police cars came racing in early in the morning, and the others just shut the door in your face.

Feeling defeated and slightly annoyed, you give up and go find Nancy. It seems as though neither she nor Fred have had any luck in getting the answers they want, that is until Nancy spots a man sitting by himself.

“Both of you stay here, I’ll be right back.” She says, running off.

You sigh, putting the notepad in your pocket. Fred is going over his own investigation notes, so you decide to go play with the stray dog that keeps pacing around. After trying to get it to do a few tricks, it begins to park repeatedly. You look around and notice that Fred is no longer there. Nancy seems to have noticed this too, as she comes by not too long after, asking where he went.

“He was here a second ago, I’m sure he couldn’t have gotten far.” You get up, brushing the dust off of your knees.

“Let’s split up and find him, we’re not exactly supposed to be trespassing here.”

You and Nancy go in different directions, looking everywhere for Fred. The trailer park isn’t too big, either, so he couldn’t have gotten far. Hours pass, and you wind up where you started. The dog is still barking, but now more aggressively towards a certain direction. You follow its gaze towards the nearby forest.

“You’re joking right?” You ask, looking at the dog.

Sighing, you bite your tongue, gathering the courage to enter the forest. From the moment you step in, there’s a stillness in the air. Even breathing feels like you may alert something that’s hidden in the trees. It doesn’t help that the sun already set, so you were practically going in blind.

“Fred? Are you here?” You say, trying not to trip over the numerous amounts of broken branches.

There’s a scream nearby, and you halt, heart jumping out of your chest. Moving through the dark, you dodge as many tree branches as possible, trying to get to the source of the noise. There’s a pit in your stomach that's growing the closer you get to the yelling. By the time you make it through the trees, you find yourself by a road. Eyes looking frantically, you see a body on the ground.

“Oh…oh no, no, no.” You whisper, breathing growing heavy.

Walking closer, you clasp your hand over your mouth. The face is barely recognizable, but the glasses give it away. The body belongs to Fred. It’s mangled, like something broke his bones, and his jaw is hanging open. You let out a gasp, stepping away. There’s a stinging sensation in your eyes, your vision growing blurry.

It takes a few seconds, but your body turns around, immediately running back into the forest, yelling for someone, anyone. First there’s a murder in one of the trailers, and now Fred is dead in the street? That’s no normal murder, his limbs were completely cracked and disjointed.

“Nancy! Nancy!” You scream at the top of your lungs, running towards the flashing lights of the police car.

Nancy turns her head, her eyes wide open. The police officer next to her also stiffens, speaking into his radio.

“What, what happened?” She grabs your shoulders, holding you still.

“Fred, he’s in the forest!” You point towards the woods, voice shaking. “He’s dead Nance, I saw his body.”

Fear flashes across her face, and you feel her grip on your shoulders weaken. The police officer walks towards you, asking what you saw. After another debrief, you and Nancy are told to sit in the police car and wait.

“Do you think that they’re connected?” She asks.

“Two murders in such a small radius? I’d be surprised if they weren’t.”

You lean back in your seat, recalling the image of Fred laying dead in the street. It keeps playing over and over again like a movie. Nancy notices your unease, running her hands along your back.

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The next morning, more police officers arrive with other first responders. They pull you and Nancy aside, asking multiple questions ranging from why you were there to how you found Fred. You’ve repeated the same story for hours now, but it seems like your explanation isn’t sufficient for them.

“Now, you said that you followed the sound of a scream and wound up finding Fred’s body in the street?” One of the officers asks.

“Yes, for the millionth time. I saw his body, and then I ran back as fast as I could.” You say, getting irritated as the officer writes stuff down on his notepad.

“We’ve already told this information to officer Daniels, why are you making us repeat it?” Nancy adds, also growing more annoyed at the situation.

The officers begin to wrap up the interrogation, much to your relief. Your eyes wander behind them and notice a car pull up. The doors open, and your breath hitches. Out steps your brother and Max, along with Robin and Steve.

There’s that feeling again, the same one you feel every time you see him, like you’re being drawn in. Nancy does a subtle wave, and Steve waves back, but you know that he’s only extending a greeting to her. Swallowing your bitterness, you step to the side, blocking your view of him with one of the officers.

After the officers leave, you let out a sigh of relief. The others make their way towards you and Nancy, asking questions right away.

“You didn’t come home last night, mom was totally freaked out.” Dustin says.

“Well I hope you covered for me, cause her knowing that I was at an active double murder scene wouldn’t be so great.”

The group heads towards the picnic tables for more privacy to discuss what happened. Dustin reveals that the victim at the Munsons house was Chrissy, and you tell the others that the newest victim is Fred.

“So you’re saying that this thing that killed Fred and Chrissy is from the upside down?” Nancy asks.

“Our working theory is that he attacks with a spell or a curse. Now, whether or not he’s doing the bidding of the mind flayer or just loves killing teens, we don’t know.” Dustin adds on.

“All we know is that this is something different, something new.” Max looks to the group, hoping someone can add anything else.

“Y/n, you were the first person to find Fred’s body, right? How did you come across it?” Robin asks.

“Me and Nance split up to look for Fred after we noticed he was gone. I went into the forest, heard screaming and ran towards it, and I saw him laying there, lifeless.” You grimace, remembering his mangled body.

“I thought it was rule number one to never follow the source of the screaming.” Max says.

“Yeah, well I already had momentum and decided to play hero, sue me.” You cross your arms, huffing.

Everyone connects the dots that both Chrissy and Fred died at the trailer park, and that they were both upset.

“Serial killers stalk their prey before they strike, right? So maybe Fred and Chrissy saw this vecman-” Robin tries to piece things together, but is interrupted by Dustin who corrects her on the correct name of Hawkins newest potential villain.

“I don’t know about you guys, but if I saw a freaky wizard monster, I’d tell someone.” Steve adds.

“Maybe they did. I saw Chrissy leaving Ms Kelly’s office. If you saw a monster, you wouldn’t go to the police, they wouldn’t believe you. So you would go to your shrink.” Max says.

The group quickly leaves the picnic tables, heading towards the cars that they’ve parked near the outskirts of the trailer park. You trail behind, wondering how Hawkins manages to have a new monster every single year. Nancy breaks off from the group, heading towards her own car.

“Nance, where are you going?” Steve asks, jogging towards her.

“There’s just something I want to check out.” She says, trying to be as indifferent as possible.

“Is there something you wanna share with the rest of us?” Dustin asks, clearly curious.

“Listen, I don’t want to waste your time, it’s a real shot in the dark.” Nancy takes a step back, but Steve is insistent.

“Are you out of your mind? Flying solo with this Vecna creep on the loose? It’s too dangerous, you need someone to…” He turns around, tossing his keys to Robin.

Robin protests, telling him she can’t drive. Everyone goes around in a circle, asking Steve if they can take a shot at driving his car, and they’re all rejected.

His desperation is a little laughable, enough to make you crack a smile. You take out your car keys, jingling them loud enough for everyone to hear.

“Fortunately, Nancy didn’t come alone to the trailer park.” You begin to walk towards Nancy, bumping shoulders with Steve on purpose. “No need to play the hero, she’s already got me.”

“And me!” Robin yells, running to join the both of you. “Us ladies will stick together. Unless you think we need you to protect us?”

Steve pauses, unable to answer Robin's question. You smirk, finding satisfaction in his blank stare.

“We can handle ourselves, besides, I think he’s much better suited for entertaining the masses.” You turn around, off to find where you parked your car.

Steve’s nose flares, but before he can say anything back, you’re already gone.

“I think she just called you a whore.” Dustin says, opening the car door.

“Shut up and get inside.” Steve replies, irritated.

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You follow Nancy’s car to the library, where she wants to do some research on someone called Victor Creel. Apparently Wayne Munson, Eddie's uncle, told her about the murder of the Creel family that happened years ago. Nancy explains that there’s a chance that Victor Creel himself may have escaped and is involved with the recent murders.

“Isn’t the asylum super guarded, how would Victor Creel even be able to escape?” You ask, following Nancy to the front desk of the library.

“And he’s hella old, like in his seventies. What’s the likelihood of there being a grandpa murderer that can lift people into the air and crack their bones?” Robin adds on.

“These murders are way too graphic to be caused by just one person, an old one at that. There’s no way.” You say.

Nancy continuously rings the bell on the desk, hoping for some assistance. Robin keeps talking about how much of a shot in the dark this idea is, and Nancy’s annoyance grows. You place your hand over hers, stopping her from ringing the bell further.

“We’re in a library, Nance.” You whisper.

A librarian arrives not too long after, and Nancy asks for the keys to the archives. Robin bites her lip, feeling like she may have been too upfront.

“Did I come off mean or condescending or something?” She asks.

Nancy shakes her head, but you can tell she’s slightly overwhelmed.

“It’s just that you seem annoyed. You don’t know me that well, and I don’t really have a filter or a strong grasp of social queues.” Robin begins to explain herself to Nancy, albeit a little too much.

The librarian comes back with the keys, and you quickly grab them, giving her a nod of gratitude. The three of you head off to the basement archives.

You begin to look through the newspaper articles about Victor Creel, and so far there's nothing. Even Nancy and Robin are having a hard time finding anything substantial.

“What are we looking for exactly, Nance? Any mentions of dark wizards or alternate dimensions?” Robin asks, knocking on the wall to get Nancy's attention.

Nancy sighs, getting up from her chair.

“I don’t know, okay? It’s starting to seem like this is a big waste of time, and you’re obviously bored. Why don’t you just call Steve to come pick you up, me and Y/n have this handled.”

“Please don’t call him.” You mutter, scooting your chair back.

Robin chases behind Nancy as she leaves to check out another section of the archives. You follow behind, listening to Robin trying to explain herself.

“You guys both know that Steve and I have nothing going on, right? We’re just friends.” Robin smiles, looking over at you. “Besides, he has a preference for someone else.”

“Why are you looking over at me?” You ask.

Robin coughs, stumbling over her words.

“It’s just, y’know…all I’m saying is that we’re platonic friends, with a capital P.”

You nod awkwardly. Robin walks away, rummaging through different archived articles until she stumbles upon one written by The Watcher. If anyone is going to write about stuff like dark wizards, it’s going to be them.

Feeling confident, the three of you look over the articles written by them one by one. Nancy seems to have lost interest after the first one, but you and Robin keep going strong. Each one is more ridiculous than the last, but eventually there’s one that seems to have the answers you’re looking for.

“Victor Creel claims a vengeful demon killed family, the murder that shocked a small community.” Robin says in a weird voice. You laugh, but Nancy still isn’t buying it.

“Nance, quit sulking and get over here.” You say.

Nancy walks over, shocked that the newspaper title is actually real. The article goes over how Victor believed his house was haunted, and how he hired a priest to perform an exorcism, but it failed.

“Victor believed that he was spared as punishment…” Robin says, finishing reading the article.

“That seems convenient.” Nancy replies.

“Or not. Victor was declared legally insane by the court, but what if this is why? Who in their right mind would believe his story if they didn’t see it first hand?” You add in, putting the pieces of the story together.

“It didn’t go public because of the plea bargain. The records were sealed.” Nancy finishes the story, and the three of you nod in agreement.

It’s already dark by the time you leave the library. Robin hands you the walkie talkie she had on hand, and you use it to contact Dustin, telling him about how Nancy’s shot in the dark just happened to be a bullseye.

“Yeah, that’s great, but I can’t really talk right now.” He says.

“Why the hell not?”

“Breaking and entering into the school to retrieve some confidential and extremely personal files.”

“Repeat that for me, I don’t think I heard you correctly.”

“Just get here as soon as possible! We’ll explain everything.”

The line goes quiet, and you realize that your little brother is up to no good again. Leaving him alone does absolutely no good.

You, along with Robin and Nancy haul ass towards the high school. Worried that Dustin may have gotten into trouble, you run into the school, hellbent on finding him. By the time you connect with the other group, you notice that everyone is surrounding Max.

“What the hell are you guys doing here?” You ask out of breath.

Max begins to explain how she’s certain that she saw a clock at the end of the hallway, but there’s nothing there.

“Fred and Chrissy both came to Ms Kelly for help. They were both having bad headaches, and then the nightmares started, trouble sleeping…and then they started seeing things. Bad things, from their past. The visions kept getting worse until everything ended.” Max’s fingers dig into her legs, her voice shaking as she reveals that she’s been having headaches for the past five days.

There’s a creaking noise from outside the office, and everyone tenses. Steve grabs one of the lamps in the corner and goes to check it out. You reluctantly follow with the others, fingernails digging into your palms as the sound of footsteps get closer. You hold your breath as someone runs the corner, everyone yelling.

“It’s ME! It’s me!” Lucas yells, out of breath.

“What is wrong with you, Sinclair?! I could have taken you OUT with this lamp!” Steve yells, shaking the lamp in his hand.

“We’ve got a code red.” Lucas walks up to Dustin. “I’ve been with Jason, Patrick, and Andy, and they’ve totally gone off the rails. They’re trying to capture Eddie, and they think you know where he is, you’re in terrible danger.”

“Yeah, that definitely sucks, but we have way bigger problems than Jason right now.” Dustin looks back over at Max, who seems as though she’s seen a ghost.

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You take Dustin home, and unfortunately for the both of you, your mother is not pleased. Before you’re even fully in the house, she’s up in arms about how irresponsible it is for you to disappear for almost two days and not contact her. You keep nodding your head, agreeing to her points, in hopes that she’ll get tired and let you go. Dustin manages to disappear mid lecture, and you hate him for it.

“If you’re going to sleep over at Nancy’s house, I need to know, young lady!” She paces back and forth, trying to calm herself down.

“I said I’m sorry mom, we’re just really busy. Listen, I need to get back to her house, we have this really big project due, and she’s my partner-”

She inhales deeply, looking at you as though you just committed a crime. Her hands are on her hips, foot tapping hastily.

“There was something for you in the mail.” She says, head nodding over towards the counter.

You look over, and see a large envelope. All of the colleges you’ve applied to have sent over their letters, except for one, Boston University.

Tearing it open, you reach for the letter inside. Your hands are clammy as you open it, eyes reading over the contents.

“We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted for admission to Boston University for the Fall 1986 semester…” You read out loud.

Your mom gasps, and you scream. Dustin rushes out of his room, assuming the worst possible scenario.

“What the hell is going on?!” He yells, running towards the both of you.

“Your sister got into Boston!”

“Holy shit, that’s great!” He says, a smile on his face.

In the midst of your happiness, you remember that celebrating will have to come later, as there is a literal dark wizard killing people. Putting aside your letter, you wash off the smell of the past two days. After putting on new clothes, you take Dustin and drive over to the Wheeler house.

Thanks to Nancy’s friends at the Hawkins High newspaper, you along with Nancy and Robin are now students at the University of Notre Dame under alias’. A one on one with Victor Creel was denied, but the three of you managed to get a meeting with the director.

“Now, all we have to do is charm him and convince him to let us talk to Victor.” Robin puts her hand on your shoulder, rocking you back and forth. “Luckily, we have an expert actress among us.”

“Expert liar’s more like it…” Steve mutters under his breath.

You catch onto what he said, unamused by his attempt to get under your skin.

“What was that?” You ask.

“I wasn’t speaking to you.” He replies, handing over the portfolio in his hand to Robin.

“Sure, but you were speaking about me.”

“Well, if you’re so sure that I was, then you don’t need me to repeat myself.”

Everyone in the room seems to have froze. Dustin and Robin look at each other, afraid of what’s to come.

“I heard what you said, but I think you should stop being a pussy and say it to my face.” You grip the portfolio in your hand, jaw clenched.

“You want me to say it to your face? Fine, I think that you-”

“STOP! We don’t have time for your guys’ petty squabble, okay?” Lucas stands up, putting his arms out towards you and Steve.

“Fine, you’re right. But I have a question, where’s my alias?” Steve asks.

“That’s the funny thing, you don’t have one.” Robin laughs.

Steve looks as though his head is about to pop off. He immediately gets up, rambling about how he doesn’t want to be a babysitter again. You and the other girls leave the basement, heading off towards Nancy’s room, as Steve follows behind closely.

Nancy goes through her closet, pulling out clothes for Robin. Luckily, you shoved some clothes into a bag before you left home, the frilliest things you could find.

“Where did you get this from?” Robin asks, going through all of your accessories.

“Some spare stuff from drama club. I haven’t worn it in years, so we’ll see if it holds up.”

You lay everything out, hoping that you brought enough to make a convincing enough outfit. There are some trinkets from plays you did a long time ago. Robin keeps asking you questions about them, and you’re more than happy to answer.

Steve leans against Nancy’s doorway, watching as everything gets laid out. He’s still angry at the fact that he has to be a babysitter again, but the sound of you laughing distracts him from that. You and him have been at odds for a while now, so the look of you actually being happy is nice. He misses it.

Robin catches onto Steve’s longing stare, snapping her fingers in front of his face.

“Okay, Romeo, we have to get ready. Get out.” She says, pushing him out the door.

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The drive to Pennhurst is swift and fast. Robin struggles to walk in heels, so you hold onto her arm so that she can balance herself. Nancy’s gripping her bag tightly, silently hoping that all goes to plan and that the dean allows you guys access to Victor Creel.

Once you’re in the dean's office, he opens up the resumes you brought, making comments here and there about your grades and experience.

“We can only learn so much in a classroom, that’s why we’re here…first hand experience.” Nancy says, trying to woo him.

Unfortunately, the dean isn’t impressed. He goes over the proper protocol of attempting to visit a patient like Victor. He also criticizes the fact that your thesis is due next month, but you’ve only now decided to visit.

Clearing your throat, you earn the attention of the Dean. Both Robin and Nancy look at you, holding their breath for what's about to come.

“There’s no need for apologies in this case. The fact of the matter is that we put in a request months ago and were denied, and then we reapplied, and then were denied again. Coming here, to speak to you, the man who could make it happen, was a last ditch effort to save our thesis. I really don’t appreciate you sitting here and criticizing us when all we’ve done is try and try again.” You hold eye contact with him, and he looks away, presumably ashamed.

Robin stands up, putting in her own two cents. The two of you begin to talk about how women aren’t taken seriously in this field of work, adding fake anecdotes here and there. It seems as though your joint monologue managed to reach into the deepest regions of his heart, because not a moment later, he’s up and out of his chair.

The three of you high five each other discreetly, considering it a job well done.

The dean leads you to an area that looks like a prison, and thanks to some extra charm, he allows the three of you to speak to him alone. Once the door to the locked away area actually opens, you realize that it is an underground prison. The guard taunts Victor in his cell, swiping his baton across the gates of the cell.

“Victor? My name is Nancy Wheeler…and this is…” Nancy looks over at you and Robin.

“Robin Buckley.”

“Y/n Henderson.”

“I don’t talk to reporters.” Victor says, scraping his nails against the metal desk.

“We’re not reporters. We’re here because we believe you.” Nancy takes a step closer to the cell, ignoring the warnings of the dean to stay five feet away.

“We think that whatever killed your family, we think it’s back.” You join her, Robin following.

Victor creel stops scraping his desk, slowly turning around. When you take a look at his face, you realize that his eyes are scarred shut. You have to stop yourself from having a physical reaction. Nancy begins to describe how Vecna’s attacks worked, trying to jog Victor's memory.

“We need to know how you survived that night.” Robin says, trying to appeal to whatever sympathy he may have left.

Victor laughs, “Survive? Is that what you call this? Did I survive…no, I’ll show you…I’m very much in hell.”

He begins to tell the tale of how his family moved to Hawkins. There was a month of peace before things started going wrong. He walks closer to the cell gate, repeating how it was a demon straight from hell. Visions, so many evil and horrific visions.

He recalls how one night, the radio in the house randomly started playing a song. When he went to turn it off, that’s when the evil struck. One by one, each of his family members were taken out in the same gruesome way. When he tried to get out of the house, he had a vision of the war back in France. Right when he thought that the demon was going to get him, he heard the same song that was playing during dinner. It guided him back to reality, where he realized that both of his children were taken from him.

You sigh, realizing that he had been locked in this cell for decades for a crime he did not commit. Victor finishes the story, cradling himself in the bed, humming a song. Before any more questions could be asked, the door to the underground prison opens, revealing the dean.

“Is he everything you hoped he would be?” He says, walking over to the three of you very angrily. “I just had a very interesting conversation with professor Brantley. Perhaps we should discuss it in my office, while we wait for the police.”

The guards escort the three of you out. Nancy tries to explain the dilemma, but the dean is having none of it. One of the guards pushes you forward, almost making you fall. Once you’re outside, Robin huddles between you and Nancy.

“Victor said the night of the attack, everything went on in the house, but he specifically mentioned music. And when we asked him about the angel, he started to hum.” She says.

“Hatch said that music can reach parts of the brain that words can’t, right?” You add on, remembering the beginning part of the tour.

“Right, so it’s like a gateway back to reality. A tether to the present.” Nancy says.

You look behind you, gauging how close the guards are.

“I think if we run fast enough, we can make it to your car and get out of here.” You whisper to Nancy.

“Whoa, you’re not serious, right? I have horrible coordination skills, it took me six months longer to-” Before Robin can finish, you’re already grabbing her hand, running.

Nancy’s in front, frantically reaching into her bag to get her keys. The guards are hot on your tail, but you’re determined to make it out of there. Robin kicks her heels off, and as do you, running barefoot through the cold street. The three of you get into the car as fast as possible, locking the doors. Nancy starts the car, hauling ass out of there.

You feel like passing out in the back seat, holding your head up with your hands. The sound of Dustin's voice comes from the radio next to you.

“Code red, this is a code red!” He yells.

“Dustin, we copy.” You say into the radio.

“Please tell me you have this shit figured out. Max is in trouble!”

“It’s music! Play her favorite song, that’s a key to getting her back to reality!” Robin yells, leaning into the back seat.

The other line goes silent. You can only hope that Dustin can reach her in time.

₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

Tag list ✧

@maxverstappentwink @ariesandwolves @harrysnovia

@hawkins-hogwarts @panbish-1209 @zuncorvemi

@counterstr1ke @disturbingbirds @lilsteveharrington

@marcspectorondeeznuts @bethanystan @hoshhhiiiii

@azharyy @fallingwallsh @carpetmumcher

@winchester-whiskey @salt-recs @onlyangel-444

@shadydeanmuffin @cheetoscmj

Sorry for the long wait everyone! There was so much to cover for season 4 that tumblr wouldn't even allow me to fit it all into one post. Make sure to read the second part! :)

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