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Chapter Eight - Deep Conversations

Summary: Weeks have passed since the work trip, and Steve’s been avoiding you ever since. You can’t shake the confusion of his sudden silence. When an unexpected heart to heart happens, you start to think differently about your feelings.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Warnings: mentions of Y/N, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, Steve’s pov, financial stress, food mentions, humor, shopping, feelings of loneliness, emotional numbness, implications of depression, fake friends, rain, crying, mentions of death, Eddie and Robin are great friends, Nancy and Aniyah are amazing too, car breakdown, Steve and Luxe are being idiots

Word Count: 14.8k

Note: Steve is being stupid and Luxe doesn’t know any better. They’re just two stubborn idiots who just can’t communicate. I would love it if you guys sent your thoughts in my inbox, like what you think of Luxe’s relationship with the other characters or what you think will happen next. I hope you guys like the ending of this chapter hehe…

Series Masterlist

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Steve sat at his desk, trying to focus on his computer in front of him, but his mind was somewhere else entirely. He couldn’t shake the image of that morning from his head, the way you had been pressed up against him in his arms, your skin warm beneath his fingertips, the way his body had instinctively moved closer in the night, only for him to pull away the moment he fully woke.

It didn’t make sense. He didn’t like you. He was supposed to be irritated by you, annoyed even. But all he could think about was how impossible it was to stop thinking about you, how your presence had settled into his mind like a stubborn song stuck on repeat.

His fingers tapped nervously on the edge of his desk. What was this feeling? Confusion? Wanting? He’d never been good at this, at liking someone who was supposed to be someone he disliked. It scared him, so he shoved the thought down and forced himself to focus.

Not being able to concentrate, he stood to leave his office. That was a big mistake because he caught sight of you in the shared workspace just as he passed by. You looked up briefly and your eyes met for a split second. He wanted to walk over and say something, but the words got caught, tangled in his throat. Instead, he turned and walked away quickly.

He didn’t know how to tell you what he was feeling. Maybe he wasn’t ready to even understand it himself. So for now, he stayed silent, pretending like nothing had changed between you, even though everything had. He didn’t know how hurt you had felt that morning. If he did, he wouldn’t have acted like this. The two of you needed to communicate, but you both were too stubborn to say anything.

Steve walked into the design room, shutting the door behind him a little harder than necessary. He needed a break from his office to clear his head. No matter how many late nights he spent trying to distract himself or how many early mornings he forced himself to focus on work, they always found a way to creep back in. These feelings, whatever they were, were gnawing at him, keeping him up at night and slipping into his thoughts even during the day. The worst part was that he didn’t even know what to call them. He wasn’t good at this sort of thing, he’d never had to be. Relationships were never something he prioritized. A few casual flings here and there, some longer than others, but nothing deep. Nothing that ever lasted or made him feel like this. So how was he supposed to recognize the ache in his chest when you weren’t around, or the heat that flushed over him when he accidentally touched your hand, or the way his body reacted to holding you that morning?

He ran a hand through his hair, letting out a frustrated breath as he leaned over the large table in the center of the room. His eyes barely registered the sketches spread out beneath him, something one of the interns, most likely Will, probably did. He didn’t even care honestly. God, this job wasn’t supposed to be hard, it was supposed to be simple and stress free.

After high school, he never had a plan for his life, never had a dream or a clear direction. It was all just coasting from one part time job to another, clocking in and out of places he didn’t care about until one day, Jonathan mentioned the idea of fashion as his photography career began to take off, of working with Nancy’s new company. It was quite hypocritical of him, really. There he was, accusing you of getting this job handed to you, when his friends offered the position to him.

It was still shocking to him. Fashion, of all things. Steve had laughed in Jonathan’s face at first, he didn’t know shit about fabrics or cuts or color palettes. He still mixed up terms sometimes, but the weirdest thing happened once he gave it a chance. He actually didn’t hate it. In fact, he got good at it. Not in the technical sense like the designers or seamstresses, but in the people sense. He was good at selling a vision, bringing it to life, making it feel real. So Nancy, in her typical pragmatic way, promoted him to lead campaign coordination, all the public stuff, as the Brand Manager. The smiling, shaking hands, marketing charm kind of stuff. It fit him. It was easy for him.

Or at least, it used to be. Because now you were here, and you’d gone and thrown everything off balance without even trying. The minute he met you, he thought he had you figured out. You were just some stuck up, privileged, maybe even a little entitled, girl who would breeze through town and make everyone’s life harder just by acting like she knew better. But that’s not who you were. Maybe a little bit at first, but he was far from right in the way he thought. And the more time he spent around you, the more he saw that. The more he caught himself looking when he shouldn’t, lingering longer than necessary, listening closer than he meant to. You were smart and pretty and confident and stubborn as hell, but funny too, and kind in a way that wasn’t always loud but always intentional. Then there was that morning.

God, that morning.

Waking up with you curled into him, his arm wrapped around your waist, your hair brushing his face…it should’ve been nothing. It was an accident, but it didn’t feel like nothing. Not when he felt his body respond to yours, not when he became aware of the fact of how close you were, how warm, how soft your skin was compared to his. He wished he held on for a few more seconds, but he hadn’t. He moved away quicker than he wanted to, shocked at what happened. Because what was that? What was that feeling? He didn’t know. He genuinely didn’t. His body felt like it knew, but his heart couldn’t catch up, and his brain was too afraid to try. He moved away because it scared the shit out of him. He didn’t understand what it meant to want someone like that, and not just physically but emotionally. He didn’t know what it meant to care so deeply that just being near someone made your chest hurt.

He didn’t realize how much he’d hurt you when he left the bed that way. However, he did notice the way you stayed quiet in the car ride, and then saw the shift in your expression when he passed by you in the hallway. The way you wanted to say something when he tried to avoid you. The way you kept your distance the days after, realizing it wasn’t worth talking to someone that didn’t want to do the same. He wanted to do something, but he couldn’t make himself say anything. Couldn’t bring himself to explain, because how do you explain to someone that you ran because you’re feeling things you’ve never felt before? How do you explain that you’re scared not because you don’t care, but because you might care too much?

So he stood there, pretending to look at the sketches, trying to clear his head like that would fix anything, but all he could think about was you. All he could think about was that damn trip and your laugh, and your face, and how you looked in his arms like maybe you belonged there. His brain kept telling him how stupid he was for letting go.

“You’re hiding,” Robin said, voice cutting through the quiet as she leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed and an amused smile already tugging at her lips.

Steve didn’t even bother looking up. He just stayed where he was, hunched slightly over the table, pretending to focus on the sketches in front of him, ones he hadn’t actually registered in the last ten minutes. “Not hiding. Just…thinking.”

Robin stepped into the room, sneakers squeaking softly against the polished floors. “You? Thinking? Shocking,” she said with mock awe, coming to a stop beside him and nudging his hip with hers. “Should I be concerned?”

He shot her a dry look, but she saw the heaviness in his eyes anyway, something she couldn’t quite make out since he got back from that weekend trip three weeks ago. “I’m fine.”

She didn’t buy it for a second. “Uh huh. That’s why you’ve been brooding like a sad Victorian husband since that Monday you returned. Come on, dingus. Spill. How did the trip really go? You haven’t said a word about it since you got back, and I know that’s not because it was boring. You never shut up when something’s actually boring.”

Steve dragged a hand down his face and finally stood up straight, shaking his head. “It was fine, Robin.”

“Liar,” Robin said cheerfully, leaning her elbows on the table now as she tried to meet his eyes. “Because if it was fine, you’d have come back bragging about how you successfully made her angry or how you somehow sabotaged the entire weekend. But you’ve been quiet. Weirdly quiet. And—” She gave him a pointed look. “You and her aren’t fighting like usual. You didn’t even snark at her in the meeting yesterday. You barely looked at her.”

Steve’s mouth twitched, but he said nothing.

Robin squinted. “Wait. Wait a second. Don’t tell me something actually happened on that trip.”

“Nothing happened,” Steve said quickly, way too quickly, and ran a hand through his hair nervously. “We didn’t do anything.”

Robin raised an eyebrow. “Okay, but the fact that you felt the need to clarify that immediately tells me everything I need to know.”

He groaned.

She grinned. “So something did happen.”

“Nothing happened,” he repeated, staring down at the table now like it would swallow him whole if he stared long enough. “It was just…weird, okay? The whole thing was weird.”

“Weird how? Like weird weird, or emotionally repressed weird?”

He looked at her now, eyes flat. “Do you ever stop talking? Let me remind you, you’re the reason why we were both on that trip in the first place.”

“Hey, admit it. You know that I’m onto something,” Robin said with a sing-song tone, clearly enjoying this way too much. “You’re acting like someone who saw the light and now doesn’t know how to handle it.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “You’re being dramatic.”

“Says the man sulking alone in a room full of half finished sketches.”

He didn’t have a comeback for that.

Robin softened a little, letting the teasing settle for a second. “Look, Steve. I know I mess with you a lot, but you can talk to me. I’m your best friend. If something happened with her, if things got complicated or…I don’t know, something — you can tell me. I’m not going to tell anyone.”

Steve stayed quiet, jaw tight. His fingers drummed lightly against the edge of the table, a small, anxious rhythm he probably didn’t even realize he was doing.

Robin tilted her head. “Okay, new theory. You caught feelings, freaked out, and now you’re pretending like you didn’t because emotional vulnerability is scary and hard and you’re secretly a twelve year old boy inside.”

Steve didn’t laugh, didn’t deny it either. Just stared at the sketch in front of him again.

Robin nudged his side gently, this time with a little more care. “Seriously, man. If something changed, it’s okay. You’re allowed to feel things. Even if it’s confusing. Even if it scares the shit out of you.”

He finally looked at her. His eyes were tired in a way that she recognized, like something was rattling around in his head and wouldn’t let go. He didn’t say anything right away, but the silence between them said more than enough. She held his gaze for a second, waiting for him to crack a joke, brush it off, give her something small to work with. But all he did was blink slowly, like he was slowly taking in her words and thinking it over.

Robin sighed, then gave him a crooked smile. “God, you’re getting weirdly introspective in your old age.”

He scoffed. “You’re a year younger than me.”

“And yet I’m leagues ahead emotionally,” she said, tossing him a teasing look. “Come on, Harrington. What happened? You go on a trip with someone you swore you couldn’t stand and now suddenly you’re…not snapping at each other like rabid dogs every ten minutes? It’s a little suspicious.”

Steve shook his head, leaning back against the table. “We were never rabid. Maybe, like, mild barking.”

“Oh, please,” she rolled her eyes. “You two argued like you were an old married couple trying to decide who gets the cat in the divorce.”

That made the corner of his mouth twitch. He tried not to let it, but she caught it anyway.

Robin watched him, softer this time. “So. Did something happen?”

He hesitated. There was a flicker of something in his expression, but it disappeared just as quickly as it came, tucked behind a shrug and a half hearted smile. “Not really,” he said, looking away. “She just…wasn’t as annoying as I thought she’d be.”

Robin raised a brow. “You practically packed holy water when you found out you were gonna be alone with her for three days.”

“I was being cautious,” Steve said, lifting a hand defensively. “You can never tell with that woman. She’s so unpredictable.”

“You like unpredictable.”

“I don’t like unpredictable,” he replied, then paused, squinting. “Okay, maybe a little. Not the point.”

Robin grinned, nudging his arm again. “Mhm. So what you’re saying is, something happened.”

He let out a slow breath and tilted his head toward her. “You’re so nosy. Does this mean I get to do the same to you next time you’re within a ten foot radius of Vickie?”

Robin froze like she’d just been caught on tape saying something incriminating, then her face flushed a very distinct shade of red.

Steve smirked, smug. “Oh? What’s that look for? You blushing, Buckley?”

“Screw you,” she muttered, smacking his arm lightly. “Low blow.”

“Just saying. You get all weird and fidgety when she’s around. Kind of adorable, actually. Like someone who’s trying to hide the fact they just got kissed.”

“I have not—” Robin stopped herself, narrowing her eyes. “You’re changing the subject.”

“Am I?”

“Yes.” She crossed her arms, but she was still grinning despite the embarrassment. “We’re talking about you and your weird feelings, not me and my imaginary love life.”

Steve gave her a look, half amused, half grateful. “Well, maybe I’ll open up once you confess your undying love for Vickie and write her a poem.”

Robin rolled her eyes. “God, you’re so annoying.”

“And yet, here you are. Still talking to me.”

“Only because I have no choice. You’re emotionally constipated and I’m the only one with a plunger.”

Steve laughed, finally. An actual, real laugh that seemed to knock some of the heaviness off his chest, even if only for a moment. Robin didn’t say anything else. She didn’t have to. She laughed along with him. Sometimes, it was enough to just show up.

Because even if he couldn’t say it out loud yet, she knew. She could see it in the way his eyes softened now when his eyes landed on you, when he thought no one was looking. The slow unraveling of something he didn’t quite understand yet. The kind of thing that crept up on you before you had a name for it. She wouldn’t push him to say anything now, but she’d wait until he was ready. And he was grateful for her, because he knew she’d be there.

Their laughter died down, and Robin leaned forward, resting her elbows on the edge of the table. “You know,” she said, more gently now. “If something did happen between you and Y/N…maybe you should talk to her.”

He didn’t say anything, just kept his eyes down and let her keep going.

Her voice softened, more sincere this time. “Just…I don’t want you to push her away if it’s real. You’ll regret it. And it’ll hurt both of you in the end.”

Steve looked away again, lips pressed tight. He already was.

You felt so unbelievably stupid. You tried to reason with yourself, giving him the benefit of the doubt like any sane person would. Maybe he was just tired. Maybe the trip took a toll on him and he needed space. Maybe, once you were both back in the office, things would reset and fall back into place. You would go back to the snarky comments and bickering that somehow became a language only the two of you understood.

But that hope began disappearing the moment you realized he was doing everything he could to avoid you. He didn’t just distance himself, he made it a mission. Every time you entered the same room, he found a reason to leave it. His eyes never met yours, not even by accident. He walked faster, dodged you in the hallway, buried himself in his office. There were no remarks, no playful arguments. There wasn’t even annoyance. It was like you were strangers.

So you took the hint, loud and clear. You stopped trying. If he didn’t want to talk to you, then fine. You weren’t going to beg for crumbs of attention from someone who clearly didn’t want to give them. You weren’t the kind of person to chase after anyone, not when the energy wasn’t returned. That had never been your style. You were too proud for that, maybe even a bit stubborn, but you were never desperate. You’d rather sit in the thick of your own ego than swallow it. So if he had something to say, he’d have to be the one to say it. You were done putting in the effort.

That still didn’t stop the questions from creeping in. The kind that came late at night, when you were alone and everything else died down. Why did it always come to this? Why was it always so easy for people to let go of you? As if you were something disposable, merely an afterthought. It made you wonder if you were the problem. If you had done something to deserve it. Were you really that difficult to love? Had you unknowingly pushed people away so many times that this was just the universe returning the favor?

Maybe this was karma. Maybe this was what it felt like to be on the receiving end of the cold shoulder you’d given to others. A spoiled, rich brat that couldn’t care less about anyone besides herself. Whatever it was, it hurt.

For some reason, no matter how hard you tried, the tears never came. You’d lie there in your room, waiting for the inevitable release. You wanted to cry, needed to, even. But every time your chest tightened and your throat began to ache, nothing would happen. Just that hollow pressure behind your eyes that never spilled over. Maybe you were broken. Maybe it was all just building up, waiting for the perfect moment to snap and drown you in everything you’d buried.

The silence in your room didn’t help. It made it worse, honestly. Because the only thing louder than the silence was your own thoughts. And lately, they all revolved around one thing, the fact that you didn’t belong here. Not on this team, not in this friend group, not in whatever weird family had formed between you all. From the beginning, they had decided who you were. A difficult, spoiled, rich girl who was self absorbed, and to some extent, they weren’t wrong. You were used to things being handed to you, used to getting your way. You’d never really had to work for approval before, not like this. So when you felt it slipping through your fingers, it was easier to assume the worst than to try and fix it.

That’s why you started to pull away. It wasn’t all at once, but it was the little things, like leaving rooms early, answering messages late, keeping your tone just cold enough to make them second guess whether you were mad. You convinced yourself it was damage control. If you distance yourself now, you’d save yourself the hurt later. It was only a matter of when they’d turn their backs on you. You weren’t stupid. You’d seen the way people looked at you before when they thought you weren’t paying attention. You knew how easy it was for people to decide you weren’t worth it. And maybe they were right.

You didn’t want to be this version of yourself. You really didn’t. But when everyone expected the worst of you, what was the point of trying to prove them wrong? It was exhausting. You were tired of pretending it didn’t get to you. Tired of holding back the bitterness that was quickly turning into something heavier, something you didn’t know how to name. You didn’t know how to fix any of it. You just wanted someone to notice that something was wrong without you having to say it out loud. But people didn’t usually check in on the girl who always seemed to have everything. Not when she smiled like she had nothing to complain about.

Maybe if you were quiet long enough, someone would finally ask why.

You found yourself tucked away in the room Jane had shown you briefly on your first day. It was a smaller workspace tucked near the end of the hallway. She had called it ‘The Quiet Room,’ a spot for people who needed to work without distractions or just wanted to get away for a bit. You hadn’t thought much of it then, but now, you were grateful for it. It was quiet, dimly lit, and best of all, no one ever really came in here unless they needed to.

You didn’t even bother turning the lights on. The gray light filtering through the blinds was enough. You sat slouched on the worn couch shoved in the corner, legs curled up, head leaned back, staring at the ceiling.

You weren’t doing anything, you just wanted to exist, let yourself breathe without all of the problems that were messing with your head. You hated how you were sulking, because Braiser you would have never done this. Though, you guess you were past that now. The ache in your chest had overstayed its welcome, and for the first time in a while, you didn’t have the energy to cover it up.

You heard the door creak open but didn’t move, didn’t even bother to act like you were doing something productive. If it was Jane, she’d just give you a sympathetic smile and quietly leave. If it was Nancy or Jonathan, you’d lie and say you were fine and hope they didn’t try to dig deeper. It was neither of them.

“Damn. This room feels like a funeral,” Eddie said casually, letting the door fall shut behind him. “Oh, no. Did you die?”

You rolled your eyes, lips twitching in the smallest hint of a smile before it disappeared. “Hi, Munson.”

He looked around, squinting at the empty room. His eyes landed on you again, slouched on the couch without a care for posture, definitely not the picture perfect image one might expect from a wealthy girl. His brow lifted, clearly amused. “Maybe you really did lose it,” he said, voice light with teasing. “Didn’t think you had it in you to go full emo.” He dropped into the worn chair across from you, spinning it halfway toward your direction with a lazy turn. “Just…don’t bite me or anything, yeah?”

“I’m not in the mood.”

“I know.” He leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. “That’s why I’m here.”

You didn’t respond, just stared at the ceiling again, as if maybe this time, it would open up and swallow you whole.

“I asked the interns if they knew where you were. Max said you disappeared and looked like you wanted to murder someone or cry. Or maybe both. She couldn’t tell. I thought I’d come here because this seems like a reasonable place to hide.”

You sighed. “I’m not hiding.”

“No? Then what is this? You’re secretly planning your dramatic villain origin story?”

“I’m just taking a break.”

“Sure. From work? Or from Steve?”

That earned him a sharp look, and he held his hands up in mock surrender.

“Hey, I’m just asking. The two of you came back from that little trip acting all weird. Steve’s stomping around like someone kicked his cat and you’ve been MIA. Robin keeps pestering Steve about it, trying to get him to talk.”

You said nothing, you only sank deeper into the couch, arms crossed tightly over your chest. Eddie tilted his head, studying you like he was trying to piece something together without all the details.

“You know,” he said gently. “For someone who walks around like she’s untouchable, you’re really bad at pretending nothing’s wrong.”

You let out a quiet laugh, dry and humorless. “Thanks for the analysis, Dr. Munson.”

“That’s my job,” he said with a smirk, but it faded quickly. “Look…I get it. You’re not exactly down to talk about your feelings. That’s fine. Neither am I. I usually just write aggressive songs about mine and scream them into a mic.”

You glanced over at him, raising your eyebrows. “And how’s that going for you?”

“Eh, could be better. But it keeps me from going insane, so it’s something.” He paused, trying to find the right words. “Look, I’m not here to pry, alright? If you don’t wanna talk about whatever happened with Harrington, that’s your call. But—”

“Nothing happened,” you cut in way too quickly. “We just…didn’t get along. Shocking, I know.”

Eddie raised a brow but didn’t call you out on the obvious lie. “Right. And I’m a chicken.”

You looked away, jaw tight.

He stayed quiet for a moment before continuing, his voice softer. “I know you think we don’t really care. Like we’ve all already made up our minds about you, so why bother letting anyone in, right?”

That struck something in you. You felt your throat go tight.

“But you’re wrong,” he said. “We do care. Some of us just don’t know how to show it. Or maybe some of us are just waiting for you to open up more. I’m not saying that’s fair, but…it’s how people work sometimes. We’re kind of complicated and bad at saying what we actually mean.”

You blinked hard, your throat tightening against the sudden lump you didn’t see coming. You weren’t going to cry, not in front of him. You simply nodded once.

He stayed quiet for a moment, just watching you. He was trying to figure out how much he could say without crossing a line. Then he leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees.

“So…” he started, dragging the word out. “Are we gonna talk about what happened on the trip, or do I have to keep guessing and making up stories in my head?”

You groaned and sank deeper into the couch cushions, dragging a pillow into your lap. “There’s nothing to talk about, Eddie.”

Eddie made a face. “Okay. Sure. You’ve just been a brooding mess for weeks for no reason. Totally normal. Nothing happened.”

You glared at him. “We didn’t fight, if that’s what you’re getting at. Not really, anyway.”

That surprised him. He sat up straighter. “Wait, no fighting? You didn’t feel like strangling Harrington at any point with a Prada belt?”

You rolled your eyes. “I don’t own a Prada belt.”

“Gasp! You’re losing your touch!”

A small smile tugged at the corner of your mouth, but you bit it back just as quickly. You didn’t even know why you were telling him this, but maybe it was because Eddie didn’t push in the way that felt suffocating. He just sat there, cracking jokes, letting you talk when you were ready.

“No, we just…didn’t fight that much,” you said eventually. “I mean, we still bickered. That’s just how we are, but then there was this one time where…I don’t know. Maybe I’m insane. But it felt like there was something there. Like we had a moment or whatever.”

You stared down at the pillow in your lap, fingers picking at a loose thread.

“I felt weird,” you added softly. “Like not a bad-weird. I just—” You exhaled, frustrated. “But then we woke up, and he was already different. He was distant, like someone flipped a switch. He wouldn’t even look at me.”

Eddie was quiet again, but not judgmental quiet. He was thinking. Then he smirked. “Damn. Maybe Harrington’s got a thing for you.”

You blinked at him, then laughed sharply. “Yeah. Sure.”

“I’m serious,” he said, grinning now, clearly enjoying your flustered expression. “You’re hot and scary. That’s gotta be someone’s type.”

“Definitely not his,” you muttered, more to yourself than him.

You didn’t say the rest out loud. It couldn’t be true because no one really liked you. People tolerated you, worked with you, laughed at your jokes when they were in the mood, but actually liked you? Cared about you? That didn’t happen.

Eddie must’ve picked up on the silence, or maybe he just knew how to read people better than he let on, because his smirk faded.

“Hey, I know we got off on the wrong foot,” he began saying, and you looked at him. “But I don’t want you to think we don’t like you. You’re part of the team now, and you need to know that we’re all here for you whenever you want to talk. You’re our friend, and I’m not just going to let my friend disappear without a word.”

Friend. Your eyebrows knitted together, going over his words, but then let out a soft laugh. It wasn’t forced this time. “Thanks, Eddie,” you said, voice lighter than it had been all day.

Perhaps it was dumb and it meant nothing, but a tiny part of you wondered if this was what it felt like when someone actually cared. Eddie didn’t have to say that. He didn’t have to come looking for you, or sit here trying to pull you out of your own head. He could’ve just shrugged it off and gone back to working, but he didn’t.

“I mean, I could’ve disappeared to like a random city thousands of miles away,” you added, raising an eyebrow. “And you still would’ve tracked me down, huh?”

Eddie leaned back in the chair with a smug grin. “Damn right I would’ve. You’d be shocked how far my guilt trips can travel.”

“Oh, I believe you.”

“Besides,” he said, kicking his boots up on the edge of the coffee table. “You’re one of the only rich girls around here who can keep up with my jokes. I need you. It’s a purely selfish motive.”

You snorted. “Wow, I’m flattered. How many rich girls do you know, Eddie?”

“Only one,” he said with a wink. “Don’t let it go to your head though.”

You smiled to yourself, not saying anything. For once, it felt kind of nice to have someone actually check up on you. And Eddie? He made it really hard to feel alone.

Sure, it made you a bit mad when he and Robin cheated on the project, but you didn’t want to hold a grudge on them for that. You’ve met and signed with many designers back at Lennox, so you didn’t mind being in last place. You only got angry when you found out you were forced to go on that work trip. That was all in the past now.

Eddie stood, walking toward the door before glancing back. “Anyway, I’ll leave you be, but like I said, don’t disappear completely, alright? We kind of need you around here. You’re not getting rid of us that easily, sweets.”

You snorted despite yourself, and he grinned.

“Ah, finally.” He gave you a small salute and opened the door. “You ever wanna talk, or not talk, you know where to find me.”

And with that, he was gone, leaving the door slightly ajar. You didn’t move for what felt like a long time. You just sat there in the quiet, taking in everything that just happened.

You finally stood up after ten minutes, brushing off your dress pants as you exited the room. As you walked back to the shared office space, you picked up on the loud chatter from outside the door. Raising an eyebrow, you pushed open the door to see almost everyone in deep conversation.

“Look who’s back!” Robin shouted, already halfway across the room before you could step fully inside. She grabbed your wrist and tugged you in dramatically. “We’ve been wondering where you went! I was about to file a missing persons report.”

You looked toward Eddie, who gave you a reassuring smile, one of those I didn’t say anything to anyone kind of smile. You gave him a small, thankful nod before shrugging and sitting back down at your desk. “Uh, I took a walk outside. What’s going on?”

“Pizza,” Jonathan said seriously, as if that explained everything.

“Pineapple on pizza,” Max clarified, throwing her hands in the air. “And how it’s an absolute crime against nature.”

“Oh come on, dude!” Argyle exclaimed from the couch, waving his hand around. “Try before you deny! It’s sweet and salty, it’s the perfect balance. Like yin and yang, my man.”

“Argyle, no. No yin, no yang,” Max said, scrunching her nose in disgust. “Fruit does not belong on pizza. That’s the law.”

Jane tilted her head. “But tomatoes are fruit.”

Everyone went quiet, visibly caught off guard, heads turning in unison as they thought over her words.

“Okay, but they know their place,” Mike jumped in after a few seconds. “They don’t pretend to be dessert.”

“I don’t think it’s the end of the world, Mike,” Will said with a sigh, already clearly exhausted by this argument. “You act like pineapple is personally trying to ruin your life.”

Mike threw his hands in the air. “Okay, I’m sorry for thinking that fruit doesn’t belong on melted cheese! I don’t understand how that’s a controversial opinion!”

“Because you’re wrong,” Argyle said, kicking his feet up on the break table. “Pineapple adds a totally tubular balance of sweet and savory. I used to work at Surfer Boy Pizza. We would never disrespect the fruit, bro.”

“Thank you!” Robin exclaimed, spinning to high five Argyle.

Dustin jumped in, holding up both hands to get everyone’s attention. “Okay, but have any of you even tried jalapeños and pineapple on a pizza? Because that’s peak flavor. Sweet and spicy with a little burn, it gives the full experience.”

“Absolutely not,” Jonathan mumbled from his seat, squinting at him. “I like to eat my pizza, not fight with it.”

Eddie leaned forward with a smirk. “I think all of you are cowards. Anchovies are the real test of character.”

“You’re disgusting,” Max said flatly.

“Ouch, Mayfield,” he said, clutching his chest theatrically.

Jane giggled, hiding it behind her hand, while Lucas just shook his head, chiming in. “All of you are gross. Just get pepperoni like a normal person.”

“That’s so boring,” you chimed in finally, unable to hold back a grin. “You’re really gonna go to war over fruit toppings, but then order the most basic pizza in existence?”

Mike looked personally offended. “Pepperoni is a classic.”

“It’s bland,” Robin retorted. “Like white bread. Or, honestly, Mike’s fashion sense.”

“Hey!” Mike said, whirling around. “What does that have to do with anything?”

Will couldn’t help but add his own comment. “He wore socks with sandals last week.”

Jane nodded solemnly. “I saw. I didn’t say anything, but I saw.”

“That was one time!” Mike shouted.

“Right. One time too many,” Dustin said, patting him on the back. “How you’re related to Nancy, I’ll never know.”

You bit back a laugh. “How did this even start?”

“I said I was ordering everyone pizza for lunch,” Jonathan said, waving his phone in his hand. “And then Argyle committed a felony by suggesting Hawaiian.”

“I offered a beautiful culinary experience,” Argyle insisted. “And was met with violence.”

“Verbal violence,” Will clarified. “Mostly.”

You shook your head, laughing as you leaned back in your chair. “I leave for like thirty minutes and come back to the biggest pizza debate of the century.”

“We were about to vote before you came in actually,” Max said, before looking around. “Okay, final vote. Pineapple: yay or nay.”

Robin raised a hand. “Yay.”

Argyle, Jane, Dustin, and Will joined in.

“Nay,” said Mike, Lucas, Jonathan, and Max.

All eyes turned to you. You paused, not knowing what to say. “…I’m more of a mushroom and black olive person,” you said, before watching several nods of approval. You only heard Mike and Eddie groan.

“That’s worse than pineapple,” Mike muttered.

Eddie leaned toward you. “You’re lucky you’re pretty.”

“Oh shut up, Munson, you literally put anchovies on yours,” Robin snapped, before looking at you. “Mushrooms and black olives are actually solid.”

“Yeah, I respect that,” Dustin agreed, pointing at you. “It’s earthy and salty. Now that’s a combo with depth.”

“You know what?” Lucas shrugged, nodding approvingly. “That’s fine. I’ll allow it.”

Even Max offered a thumbs up. “Definitely better than pineapple.”

“Okay, I think we’ve found our winner,” Jonathan muttered, clearly relieved the room was becoming more peaceful. “Mushrooms and olives for lunch, then.”

“I still think the best topping is just extra cheese,” Will added under his breath.

Robin turned toward him, grabbing a balled up napkin and chucking it at his head. “Who the hell eats just cheese, little Byers?”

“I’ll take that over Eddie’s anchovy pizza,” Jane added with a playful grin as Eddie gasped in mock horror like she’d betrayed him.

“It’s actually good! You’re all just afraid of bold choices!”

You leaned back in your chair, grinning as the argument slowly changed from pizza to what counted as a sandwich (Mike was already getting worked up about hot dogs being unfairly excluded). You were beginning to realize that as chaotic as this group was, it felt like exactly where you needed to be. This was probably the most at home you’d felt in a long time.

You hadn’t expected to see anyone waiting outside your apartment, least of all Leslie. You briefly stopped, clutching the strap of your purse tighter over your shoulder, almost uncertain for a second if your mind was playing tricks on you. When Leslie turned at the sound of your keys jangling, offering that same reassuring smile, the one she always wore when something wasn’t right, you knew something was off.

“Leslie?” You called out softly.

Leslie straightened from where she’d been leaning against the wall, her heels clicking softly against the floor as she stepped forward. “Hey, love,” she said, her voice calm. She opened her arms, and you didn’t even hesitate. You sank into her, arms wrapping tight around the woman who had helped you through so much.

Inside the apartment, you dropped your bag near the door, turning on the lights, and offering Leslie something to drink even though you both knew she wouldn’t stay long. Leslie declined, settling on the armrest of the couch instead of the cushions, like she didn’t want to make herself too comfortable.

“So…” you started, leaning back against the kitchen counter, arms crossed loosely over your chest. “What are you doing all the way out here? You never just drop by.”

Leslie hesitated, her mouth twitching like she was choosing her words carefully. “I didn’t want to do this over the phone,” she said, finally. “Figured it was better if I told you in person.”

You felt something in your stomach twist. You waited for her to continue.

“There’s been some movement with your accounts,” Leslie began to stay. “Some of the money your uncle put aside for you…they were supposed to be temporary. It was sort of a buffer. He did what he could before he realized he would get arrested. He just didn’t expect the investigation to reach as deep as it did.”

You frowned, the words coming slower now. “Wait…what about the apartment—”

“You’re fine here,” Leslie said quickly. “This place is secure. It’s in your name, it’s clean. He was smart about that. But your liquid assets, like your spending money, basically that’s been…well, eaten up. The investigation froze more of his accounts than we thought they would. A lot of the money he tucked away for you was tied up in those. And the trust he left in your name? It’s been draining faster than we anticipated.”

You didn’t move, your brain struggled to process the words as they piled up. “How much do I have left?” You asked, your voice lower now.

Leslie sighed. “Enough to get by, but not for long if you don’t continue working. You’ve been spending like you’re still in the city, so you have to slow down on that. If you’re not careful, it’s going to give out.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” you said, shaking your head slowly. “How does that even happen? I thought he left me enough—”

“He left you what he could, but your uncle wasn’t exactly dealing in honesty,” Leslie said gently. “And now the government’s crawling through everything he touched. Anything remotely suspicious? It’s frozen. And even if it wasn’t, most of the income you were getting was from his businesses or at Lennox, which are either shut down or being investigated. You’re not exactly broke, but you’re headed in that direction if things don’t change.”

You stared at her for a long moment, then turned away.

Leslie stood, smoothing out her coat. “I’m not saying this to scare you. I’m telling you because I care. Just…be smart, okay? You don’t need to panic, but spend less. You’re going to be okay, you just need to start thinking about money differently now.”

You nodded stiffly, barely looking at her.

“I’ve got to get back to Braiser tonight,” Leslie added, checking her phone. “I’m sorry to drop this on you and run, but I wanted you to hear it from me. I’ll check in soon.”

She crossed the room and wrapped you in another hug, her touch more delicate this time. You didn’t lean into it quite as much. When the door closed behind Leslie, the apartment suddenly felt too small, like everything was closing in on you.

Everything your uncle had built, every layer of security he promised, it was unraveling. You would have never even seen it coming.

You sank to the floor, your back pressing against the side of the couch. Your knees pulled up to your chest, arms wrapped around them tight. The tears still didn’t come. It was as if you just went completely numb, unable to feel any emotions.

You never thought you’d end up in the same position again, struggling to make ends meet, counting every penny. The last time you were like this was before your parents passed, and then also when Uncle Theo took you in. He hadn’t made his money yet, and every day was a stretch. It was hard then, and somehow it felt even harder now. You missed your parents more than you let yourself admit. You had been so young when they died, too young to hold onto every detail. The memories you did have were fading at the edges, and sometimes you wondered if the ones you did remember were even real.

Just then, a knock echoed at the front door. At first, you ignored it, hoping whoever it was would just go away. You weren’t in the mood to speak to anyone. Hell, you weren’t even sure you could manage a smile if someone asked for one, but the knock came again. You groaned, dragging yourself up and walking toward the door.

When you opened it, there stood Aniyah, her usual smile so wide and her arms wrapped tightly around a pastel pink box tied up with yellow ribbon. She wore an oversized lavender hoodie that almost swallowed her frame, and her curly hair was pinned up in a messy bun that somehow still looked put together. Everything about her radiated warmth and sunshine, like the world hadn’t yet managed to bruise her the way it had you.

“I made cupcakes!” She exclaimed. “Thought you might want one.”

Your lips parted, caught off guard. “Oh,” you said, stepping aside. “That’s really sweet of you. Come in?”

She walked in with a hum. You closed the door behind her and watched as she set the box on your kitchen counter and turned back toward you, smile faltering just slightly as her eyes swept over your face. “You okay?” She asked, voice softening. “You look…I don’t know, sad.”

You hesitated, but then you remembered how easily you opened up to her the other day and how she gave you such good advice. “I think I’m going broke,” you said, letting the words fall out before you could second guess them. “I thought I was doing good but clearly I’ve been spending a little too much.”

Aniyah’s face crumpled slightly, a sympathetic gasp escaping her lips. “Oh, babe. You poor thing. That’s awful.” She walked over and pulled you into a tight hug that you hadn’t asked for but didn’t resist either. “You know what you need to do? Shopping.”

You gave her a look. “Niya. Did you…not hear the part where I said I’m broke?”

“I heard you loud and clear,” she said, completely undeterred. “Which is why I will be paying. There’s this cute little thrift shop just a few blocks away. Trust me when I say it’s cheap, adorable, and sometimes has hidden gems. Come on. Let’s go right now.”

“What? No. I can’t let you do that,” you protested, even as she was already walking toward the front door. “That’s too much, really.”

“Nonsense,” she called over her shoulder. “It’s my treat. Besides, looking good helps you feel good. I’m not letting you mope around for another second.”

Before you could argue further, she’d already grabbed your keys, thrusting it into your hands with that same smile, before opening the door. Even though a part of you felt guilty, like you were accepting too much kindness without deserving it, another part followed her out the door without a fight.

The store she takes you to is tucked between a laundromat and a nail salon, the kind of place you’ve passed a hundred times without giving it a second look. Inside, it’s a burst of color with racks of floral skirts, soft pastels, playful patterns, things that don’t look like anything you’d ever wear.

You followed Aniyah, eyes scanning the racks with caution. In your mind, you kept thinking how you would never wear these clothes. They were bold, bright, and definitely not your style. You were used to designer clothes that gave off a statement.

Aniyah held up a sunflower yellow dress and twirled around, laughing as she pressed it to her frame. You smiled, feeling yourself start to get more comfortable.

Aniyah then grabs something else from the rack and spins around with a grin, holding up a sleeveless green jumpsuit. “Try it on.”

You open your mouth to refuse, but she’s already shoving clothes into your arms and pointing toward the fitting rooms. “Just humor me. One outfit. If you hate it, we’ll leave. Deal?”

You sigh in defeat and step inside the tiny changing stall. You stare back at your reflection in the mirror. As you pull the first outfit on, a pair of wide leg trousers and a loose, floral blouse you would’ve never picked for yourself, something in you changes.

You stare at your reflection. It’s not exactly you, but it’s not bad either. It’s softer, definitely not the same girl from Brasier. This version of you was from Hawkins, and honestly, you didn’t hate it.

You try on a few more things, and when you step out to show Aniyah, she claps her hands and grins like she’s won a prize. “See? I knew it! You look amazing!”

You laugh genuinely, this time. You end up buying a few outfits. You let her pay, even though it feels wrong, even though your pride stings a little, but maybe it’s okay to let someone show up for you. Just this once.

The next day, you wore one of the outfits Aniyah bought for you. It was a blouse with too many flowers on them, tucked into a high-waisted black pencil skirt. Your heels were a simple pair of kitten heels, unlike the tall stilettos you’re used to wearing. You still felt unsure, like this wasn’t really you, or at least not the version of you you were used to, but maybe that was the point. Maybe that wasn’t a bad thing. You inhaled deeply before stepping through the front doors of the shared office space, your stomach fluttering in anticipation, a little worried someone would laugh, or just put too much attention on you.

You passed Argyle first. He was munching on a bag of chips as he lazily waved your way, but then he paused, did a slow motion double take, and blinked at you. “Woah, dude! Is that a new outfit?” He asked, mouth half-full and eyes full of surprise.

You crossed your arms instinctively, trying to cover yourself even though there was nothing remotely revealing about what you wore. “Uh, yeah. I went shopping.”

“Holy shit,” Eddie said from behind you, approaching fast as his shoes stomped across the floor. He spun you gently by the shoulders to face him fully, his brows lifting in mock disbelief. “I have never seen you wear a top with this many patterns before.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, heat crawling up your neck. “Does it look bad?”

Eddie frowned as if offended by the suggestion, then leaned back to take it all in again. “Bad? Oh, no, sweets. You look great. Seriously.”

Argyle nodded beside him, stuffing another chip in his mouth. “I prefer this. It’s like you’re an actual human being with feelings.”

Your lips parted in mild offense, unsure if that was a compliment or an insult. “Uh. Thanks?”

Before you could question it further, Robin looked up from her computer and narrowed her eyes. “Wait, wait, hold on. Is that who I think it is?” She called out, squinting as she stood up and practically jogged over. “Okay, holy shit. You look so good. Like actually approachable.”

“Right?!” Eddie exclaimed, throwing up a hand.

Robin gave him a look before turning back to you with a full smile. “No, seriously. You look like us now.”

Max had entered just behind her, slinging her bag off her shoulder and watching you curiously. “Damn, you’re not in your designer clothes and stilettos for once,” she noted, half teasing. “I like this better. You don’t look like you’re about to walk into a Vogue meeting anymore.”

“Not that the rich girl look didn’t work,” Lucas added from behind her, raising a brow as he dropped into his usual seat. “I mean, it was cool. Kinda intimidating. Like Barbie, but like, wealthy Barbie.”

“But this—” Robin motioned to your outfit with a sweeping hand. “This has personality. It feels more like you. Less like a robot.”

“She never looked like a robot,” Will said softly, though he was smiling too. “She just looked…polished.”

“Which is code for ‘you looked like you paid someone to dress you,’” Dustin added from beside him. “But this outfit? Way more real.”

You blinked at all of them, unsure of how to respond to the whirlwind of sudden commentary. “I…didn’t think it’d be this noticeable.”

“Girl, you’ve been walking around like the ghost of a magazine cover,” Max said, nudging you lightly. “This is the first time you’ve walked in and looked like one of us. In a good way.”

Despite how awful and heavy everything still felt under your skin, like you were still unsure of it all, you had a huge smile on your face. It was that feeling where suddenly, the room didn’t feel so cold. You didn’t feel so out of place anymore. For once, no one was treating you like an outsider with a bank account too big to relate to, or a wardrobe too curated to be taken seriously. You just looked like someone who fit in.

Even if the change felt fragile, even if the version of yourself you were trying to present still felt unfamiliar, their reactions were genuine. That made you satisfied.

You decided to go to the breakroom to make yourself a cup of coffee. Your heart was still fluttering with equal parts relief and panic as you poured the coffee into your cup, a faint smile playing at your lips. Suddenly, you heard a familiar voice behind you, so quiet you almost missed it.

“…Hey.”

You froze before slowly turning to find Steve in the breakroom doorway, eyes locked on you like he wasn’t sure he was seeing right. He looked like he was caught off guard, like maybe he hadn’t meant to speak, but now he couldn’t take it back.

He hadn’t spoken to you in weeks, and suddenly he was looking at you like he hadn’t been avoiding you all this time.

“You look...different.”

There was no smile on your face, you just tried to stay calm. “Yeah?” You said lightly, resting a hip against the counter. “Figured I’d change things up a little.”

Steve looked like he was seeing you for the first time. He couldn’t figure out if he liked it or hated it. He was leaning towards the former. Your chest fluttered a little the longer he stared at you. You couldn’t help but feel a little happy inside that he finally was talking to you.

You smiled and opened the fridge to distract yourself. “Anyway,” you said, digging around the yogurt cups like they were suddenly fascinating. “It’s nice to know you still remember how to speak.”

You didn’t look at him when you said it, but you could feel him shift on his feet. Steve laughed quietly, but there was no real amusement in it. “Yeah.”

You shut the fridge and turned to face him. Three weeks of pretending you didn’t exist, of looking straight through you during meetings, of barely acknowledging you in the office or in passing or in front of anyone else. It was like everything that happened between you didn’t matter.

“I just…” You shrugged like it didn’t matter, like everything hadn’t been dragging behind you every day since. “I wasn’t sure if you were mad at me or something.”

Steve shifted, looking down at the ground. “No,” he said after a second. “Not mad.”

You waited a few seconds, hoping he would continue. When he didn’t say anything else, you sighed and tilted your head. “That’s it?”

“I’ve just been busy,” he muttered, before taking a step back. “I’ve got a lot going on.”

With that, he walked out the door, not sparing you a glance. You stared at the spot he’d been standing, heart sinking to your stomach. You grabbed your coffee and walked out.

You felt that ache in your heart again, but you didn’t let it show on your face. If he didn’t want to talk to you, then fine. You’d leave him be.

You tapped gently on the door of Nancy’s office, peeking in just enough to see if she was alone. She looked up from her computer, her glasses perched low on her nose, a slight crease between her brows like she’d been concentrating for hours. You held up the file folder in your hand.

“Hi! Come in,” Nancy said your name, waving you forward and sitting back in her chair with a soft sigh. “Thank you for finishing these files.”

“No problem,” you said, stepping inside. You placed the files neatly on her desk and straightened up, expecting that to be the end of it. As you turned to leave, Nancy called your name.

“Hey, Y/N,” she said after a moment, looking up at you. “You have a second?”

You stopped, looking back at her. “Um. Yeah?”

She stood, taking off her glasses and setting them on her desk. She grabbed her purse and walked around her desk to stand in front of you. “Come with me. I was just about to step out.”

You hesitated, a little confused. “Is this, like, a work thing?”

Nancy smiled warmly at you. “Not everything is a work thing. Come on. I feel like we haven’t had the chance to spend time together since you started working here.”

You followed her down the hallway, feeling a little curious that Nancy wanted to spend time with you. You’ve never had that sort of thing, where people genuinely wanted to be around you if it wasn’t for their benefit. All you ever had were fake smiles and forced hangouts due to work. Nancy looked like she actually wanted to hang out.

She didn’t say where you were going, but when you got outside and she led you across the street to a small smoothie shop, you stared in surprise. The place looked old but charming, like the inside would smell fruity. Nancy held the door open for you.

“This is my favorite spot when I need to get out of the office,” she said as the bell above the door jingled. “No one from work ever comes here, so it’s kind of my little haven.”

You followed her inside, scanning the chalkboard menu and hesitating, mostly because everything was overpriced and you were trying to save money now. Nancy didn’t even look at the prices, she just ordered her usual like it was muscle memory, and when you reached for your bag, she shook her head.

“My treat,” she said simply, her smile big. You opened your mouth to protest but she stopped you. “Don’t fight me on it.”

So you didn’t and ended up ordering a smoothie that seemed the most appealing to you. You ended up sitting across from her by the window, hands wrapped around the cold cup, watching people pass by outside while Nancy sipped her smoothie like she had all the time in the world. Which made sense, as she was the boss and could practically do anything.

Nancy took in your outfit, like she hadn’t realized this entire time that you weren’t in your usual designer clothes. “I like this look on you! It’s so stunning!”

“Thanks, Nance.” You felt your cheeks grow warm again, and you took a sip of your smoothie, not knowing what to do with yourself. “I was scared the team was going to make fun of me since it’s really different, but everyone seemed to like it.”

“I don’t see why they wouldn’t,” Nancy shrugged, looking out the window to see a car pass by. She turned back to you, giving you a small smile. “I know it’s probably been…weird for you. This place. The job. Everything.”

You laughed under your breath. “That obvious, huh?”

“It’s not a bad thing,” Nancy said quickly. “It’s just…I can tell you’re still trying to adjust. Braiser to Hawkins is a big change. And I know what that feels like.”

“You do?” You tilted your head. “I thought you lived here your whole life?”

She nodded, stirring her drink absently. “I have. I meant that I was the same way when I came back to Hawkins after college. Thought I’d be in New York by now, honestly. But life…well, it doesn’t always care about our plans.”

You stared down at your drink. “Yeah,” you muttered. “Tell me about it.”

Nancy gave you a reassuring smile. “You’re doing fine. I’ve been watching you. You’re really smart. You have a sharp eye and great taste. Once you realize that Hawkins can finally feel like your home, you’ll be unstoppable.”

It caught you off guard, how much that meant to you, how badly you’d needed someone to say it. Maybe you were too proud to admit it, but you’d been flailing, trying to seem okay when you weren’t even sure who you were without the life you used to take for granted.

“Thanks, Nance,” you said quietly, your voice a little tight. “It means a lot.”

Nancy raised her cup in a half-toast. “To fresh starts.”

You clinked yours against hers, the corners of your mouth lifting.

The two of you continued to talk for what felt like hours. You didn’t know how much time had passed until Nancy glanced down at her phone, her eyes widening. “Oh, wow,” she murmured. “It’s been a while. It’s already time to clock out.”

You blinked, looking down at your now empty smoothie cup. Time had slipped by without you even noticing, which was rare. Usually, you were always aware of every second, but talking with Nancy had felt easy. There was no sense of competition, no judgment, no subtle digs disguised as compliments. She wasn’t trying to one-up you or ask if your bag was last season. She didn’t care about labels or social status or what your family’s name meant. You’d never had that before. It made your chest ache in an unfamiliar way.

“Well, let’s get going, I don’t want to keep you any longer,” Nancy said with a soft smile, pulling you back into the present. “Plus, I have to head back to the office to finish up some last minute files.”

You shook your head, a small grin tugging at your lips. “I don’t mind at all. I had a great time with you, Nance.”

She beamed at you, standing up and collecting her bag, her phone slipping into the side pocket. “I’m glad. This was super fun! We’ll have to do it again sometime, yeah?”

You nodded as the two of you stepped out of the cozy smoothie shop, the warm afternoon sun warming your skin. “Definitely. Thanks for suggesting it.”

“I can drop you off at your place if you want,” she offered as the two of you reached the sidewalk, already adjusting her sunglasses. “Or, wait, did you drive?”

“Yeah,” you said with a quick nod, gesturing toward the lot just across the street. “It’s okay, really. I drove here, but thank you.”

Nancy smiled, falling in step beside you. “Cool. I’ll walk with you to your car, then.”

You gave her a grateful glance as you made your way to your car parked in front of the studio building. The vehicle sat exactly where you left it. It was very different from the luxury models you used to drive back home, and every time you looked at it, it reminded you of how different your life had become.

You pulled your keys from your purse and unlocked the door, sliding into the driver’s seat as Nancy waited. With a small sigh, you turned the key in the ignition. Instead of the usual start, the car made a sputtering noise. You froze before trying again.

This time, it choked out another strange noise that you didn’t really like. Your brows furrowed, lips pressed tightly together, willing it to work.

Nancy tilted her head, taking a step closer. “Uh-oh…is it not working?”

You sighed under your breath and tried one more time, and the car responded with another useless splutter before giving up entirely. You stared at the wheel for a second, then exhaled slowly.

“I have no idea what’s wrong with it,” you muttered, fingers tightening on the steering wheel. “It was fine these past few weeks.”

“Want me to call my mechanic?” Nancy asked gently, already pulling out her phone. “He’s in town and usually fast. We can just leave it here and he’ll come get it later. I really don’t mind dropping you off.”

You hesitated for a second, but then nodded, shoulders dropping with relief. “Yeah…okay. That’d be great. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” she said with a reassuring smile. “Seriously, it’s not a big deal.”

You stepped out of the car, locking it behind you and adjusting the strap of your purse over your shoulder as you crossed over to Nancy’s car parked a few spots down. She unlocked it with a quick click, and you climbed into the passenger seat, sinking into the smooth leather, already feeling a little less stressed.

“Thank you, Nancy,” you said quietly as she started the car.

“Of course,” she said, glancing at you with a soft smile. “What are friends for?”

You weren’t sure if she realized how much that meant, but you smiled anyway, biting down the emotion that swelled in your chest, and looked out the window as she drove you home. When her car slowed in front of your building, she tilted her head, glancing up at the exterior with a knowing smile.

“This is a nice place,” she commented. “I think a friend of mine used to live here a couple years ago.”

You gave a small laugh, shrugging. “Took me a while to get used to it, but it’s fine now. I feel comfortable here. Definitely not the worst place I’ve ever lived.”

“Understandable,” Nancy said with a small smile, watching you gather your things. “Well, I’ll see you Monday!”

“Thanks, Nance,” you replied, stepping out of the car and giving her a little wave. “Drive safe.”

She pulled away, tires humming softly against the road, and you turned toward your building, adjusting the strap of your purse on your shoulder, but then your steps slowed.

There were two girls standing near the front entrance. You hadn’t noticed them before, too caught up in your own thoughts, but now that you had, your entire body tensed.

You knew those silhouettes, knew them too well, in fact. Your heart dropped into your stomach.

Tina and Vicky.

They weren’t supposed to be here. They couldn’t be here. You hadn’t told anyone where you lived. How the hell had they found you?

Tina’s shrill voice broke the silence, her fake excitement cutting through the air like nails on a chalkboard. “Look who it is! Do you know how hard it was to find you?” You barely had time to brace yourself before she threw her arms around you, the scent of her perfume clinging to your clothes like it was trying to suffocate you. “It’s been forever! Oh my god, you look so…different!”

Then came Vicky, squeezing you quickly before pulling back, her mouth already twisted in that familiar judgmental smirk. She let her eyes sweep over your outfit, the blouse with too many flowers, the black pencil skirt that still had creases from the hanger, the kitten heels that didn’t click with nearly as much authority as your usual heels used to.

“Oh my,” Vicky said dramatically, eyes wide and tone pitched just a little too high. “What are you wearing?”

You resisted the urge to flinch. Instead, you gave a dry smile, rolling your eyes slightly like their judgment didn’t affect you, even though it did. Deep down, in places you didn’t want them to reach.

“Clothes,” you replied simply, brushing past them to walk through your building’s door. “Come in.”

The second you opened the door and led them up the narrow stairwell to your unit, you felt their gazes trailing behind you like they were inspecting the walls for mold or dust. When you unlocked your door and stepped inside, you paused for a moment before letting them in. Part of you hoped they’d change their minds and just leave, but they didn’t.

You stepped aside and they entered, both of them scanning your apartment with a grimace.

“Wait, you live here?” Tina asked, wrinkling her nose.

Vicky laughed under her breath, walking further in and tapping a chipped corner of your coffee table. “Wow. I thought this was, like, a storage space or something.”

You crossed your arms, leaning against the wall as you watched them wander through your living room like they were on a tour. You didn’t say anything, and not because you had nothing to say, but because you weren’t sure what would come out if you opened your mouth. You were still stuck on the fact that they had found you.

“Ugh, besides the fact you live in this place…we’ve missed you so much,” Tina gushed, perching herself right on the edge of your couch like she was afraid it might stain her. “It’s not the same without you. Lennox feels so…empty.”

Vicky scoffed lightly, her nails tapping on the kitchen counter. “Please. Blair’s been trying to fill your shoes but let’s be honest. She’s just not you.”

“For real,” Tina chimed in, twirling her hair. “She’s, like, super annoying. I can’t stand the sound of her voice.”

That name landed with a thud in your chest. Blair. You hadn’t thought about her in weeks, not since that morning when Blair had come up to you offering her sympathies. Blair had always been polite, always sweet, with that infuriating way of offering help that never sounded condescending. She was never cruel to you, yet you treated her terribly. You honestly just felt insecure around her. You were beginning to realize that it wasn’t Blair who was the problem, it was you.

“Well, I’m sure she’s doing fine,” you said vaguely, keeping your tone light as you busied yourself with tidying up a stack of papers at the edge of your counter. “She always wanted more responsibility anyway.”

Tina hummed as she crossed her legs. “It’s just not the same. Work has gotten so dull. You should come back. I mean, we all think so.”

You highly doubted that. Before you could answer (you didn’t even know what you would’ve said), there was a knock at the door. You turned, almost relieved, crossing the room quickly to answer it. When you opened it, the first thing you noticed was a warm and delicious scent. The second was the bright and familiar smile.

“Aniyah!” You said, a little surprised.

“Hey, girl!” She held up a big container cradled in her arms. “I just wanted to check up on you after last night. I also made my homemade chicken casserole!”

“Oh goodness,” you smiled, stepping aside to let her in. “Thank you, Niya. You didn’t have to do that.”

Aniyah leaned sideways and spotted your guests on the couch. Her smile didn’t falter, but she could tell something was different about these girls. The way they sat like they owned the place, their stylish clothing, their judgemental glance, waiting to be acknowledged by you.

“Ohhh,” Aniyah said, her tone syrupy sweet as she stepped into the room. “Friends of yours?”

You nodded, rubbing your arm. “Uh, yeah. They’re from my old home, Tina and Vicky.” You looked at the girls and pointed towards your neighbor. “Girls, this is Aniyah.”

Tina offered a little wave with her fingers, though her nose was already scrunching up. “What is that smell?”

Vicky gagged slightly and fanned her face with her hand. “Is something…rotting?”

Aniyah’s eyes gleamed. She kept her smile firmly in place, but you were getting to know her well enough by now to recognize the sarcasm beneath it. “It’s called seasoning. I suppose it’s probably a foreign concept to you.”

You nearly choked on your laugh, hiding it behind a fake cough as you moved toward the kitchen to set the food down. Tina blinked, caught off guard, and Vicky let out a scoff, her jaw tightening. Aniyah didn’t wait for a response. She walked in, heading toward the kitchen to start unpacking the food. You bit back a smile as you moved to help her, grateful for her.

“We were just saying how much we missed our dear friend back home,” Tina said, trying to change the subject. “Things aren’t the same in the city.”

“Oh, totally,” Vicky added. “We’ve been dying to find something cute and local here. You know, like, something authentic. Like, something to take back and show off. Something quirky.”

Aniyah turned, looking at them. “You want quirky?” She said with a laugh. “I know a place.”

Tina and Vicky perked up, clearly intrigued. Their eyes lit up in unison, excitement crossing their features at the idea of going to a place they could take selfies to show off to everyone.

“Seriously?” Tina asked, already reaching for her purse. “Like somewhere actually decent?”

Aniyah nodded, glancing at you from the corner of her eye. “Yep. It’s got really nice clothes. And weird little trinkets and handmade stuff. You’ll love it.”

You shot her a look, silently thanking her. She gave you a wink in return, then nudged your elbow gently.

“So, are we taking your car, Y/N?” Tina asked as she stood up, flipping her hair over her shoulder.

You bit the inside of your cheek, heat creeping up your neck. You hated the answer before you even gave it. “Uh, not exactly,” you said with a stiff breath. “My car broke down earlier today. It’s in the shop.”

“Oh, no!” Aniyah looked at you with those sympathetic eyes, squeezing your hand.

Vicky gasped and held onto Tina’s arm like it was the end of the world. “I’m definitely not walking! Let’s just take our car, Tina!”

You sighed, your patience thinning. Your eyes went to Aniyah again, who was the only person in the room who wasn’t so dramatic. This was going to be a long night.

The little boutique Aniyah had brought them to was cozy, just like all the other shops you’ve been in since you started living in Hawkins. The walls were lined with racks of cute clothes in different colors. A shelf near the window contained small candles and delicate jewelry. It was wonderful and you would’ve appreciated it more if you didn’t feel like you were being held hostage.

Tina and Vicky were already flipping through racks like it was their full time job, giggling every time they held up something they’d never wear just to mock it. You sat on a low bench near the changing rooms, your hands folded in your lap, eyes vaguely following the movement around you without really seeing any of it. You felt mentally tired, like you weren’t even really there.

“Y/N,” Tina called sweetly from a few feet away, holding up a long green dress. “What about this one? You’d look so cute in it.”

You glanced at it, barely reacting. “Sure,” you said flatly.

Vicky joined in, tossing a feathery shrug over her shoulder with a laugh. “Oh my god, remember when you used to live for this kind of stuff? You were, like, obsessed with statement pieces.”

Tina looked you up and down. “Right. Now you wear…whatever that is.”

You gave a small shrug, eyes dropping to your heels. You didn’t have the energy to pretend. You couldn’t wait for them to leave. In your periphery, you could see Aniyah chatting with someone by the front counter, one of the girls who worked here. They were smiling, talking easily, arms brushing like they’d known each other for years. Aniyah still had on her signature smile, her laugh spilling out like music. You envied how free she seemed, how she didn’t need to armor herself the way you were doing now.

Vicky’s eyes went to Aniyah. She rolled her eyes, her eyes going back to you. “Ugh. I can’t believe the people you associate yourself with now, Y/N. It’s tragic.”

“Seriously,” Tina scoffed, putting one of the dresses back on the rack. “Whatever happened to standards?”

You mumbled under your breath, frowning at the two of them. “She’s a better person than both of you combined.”

“What was that?” Vicky questioned, not paying much mind to you.

You didn’t answer. Tina dropped onto the bench beside you, her perfume so strong. Vicky hovered nearby, hands full of clothes she’d never buy. Tina then broke the silence. “Oh, by the way, remember how I told you Billy and Heather were together now?”

Your heart thudded, remembering the phone call from Tina a few weeks back. You didn’t want to hear what was coming next.

Vicky leaned in, faking a pout as if she actually cared about you. “Tina…don’t you think it’s too soon to tell her? We don’t want her to get sad or anything.”

Tina waved her off, her smirk turning bigger. “Oh, nonsense. If my best friend went behind my back and decided to date my ex, I’d want to know too.”

Your stomach twisted. You didn’t say anything. You couldn’t let any words out.

Tina giggled, adjusting her sunglasses on top of her head. “They’re totally official. We saw Billy kiss Heather at work last week. Everyone was kind of shocked but can’t say we didn’t see this coming.”

“And Mr. Harrington is giving Heather special treatment now,” Vicky continued, eyeing you. “Just like how he gave you special treatment when you were still dating Billy.”

“And they’re going to the gala together,” Tina added on. “Isn’t that, like, kinda funny? Full circle or whatever. Like he was supposed to take you, but not anymore.”

There it was. You could feel your heart get punched, the betrayal you thought you were over, the heartbreak you buried. Billy. Your ex boyfriend. Heather. Your best friend. At least, she used to be. You remembered what it felt like when the truth came out. You couldn’t even believe it.

You pressed your lips together to keep them from trembling. “Oh,” you managed, keeping your voice even. You didn’t trust yourself to say anything else.

They were watching you, that much you knew. They were waiting for your reaction, waiting to see what you would do. You wouldn’t give them the satisfaction though. So instead, you nodded once and looked up at your ‘friends.’ You were not going to cry in front of them.

“Well,” you said, your voice nonchalant. “That’s good for them.”

Tina tilted her head, studying your face like she didn’t believe you. You kept your expression smooth, like the news hadn’t just reopened an old wound that never really healed.

Vicky glanced at her phone and let out a dramatic sigh. “Oh shoot. We should probably start heading back. I don’t want to be out here when it gets dark.”

“Yeah, seriously,” Tina said, standing up and brushing off her skirt. “This town is not exactly our cup of tea.”

You stayed seated, offering them a tight smile. “Thanks for stopping by.”

Tina leaned in and gave you a quick hug, her arms wrapped around you loosely, like she didn’t want to touch you for longer than necessary. “It was so nice seeing you again,” she said with a sugary smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “You haven’t changed at all.”

It sounded like a compliment, but you knew it wasn’t.

Vicky followed, hugging you quickly and whispering against your cheek. “You should really come back home sometime. Might be good for you to see how everyone moved on.”

That one stung. Your stomach turned as they both smiled like nothing cruel had left their mouths. Without another word, they turned and walked out. You watched them through the window, laughing as they ran as rain started to pour. They got into the car and drove away without sparing a glance.

Aniyah appeared beside you, a shopping bag in one hand, her brows pulled slightly together in concern. “You okay?” She asked gently, though she already knew the answer.

You blinked, your gaze still fixed on the window, and gave her a single nod.

She didn’t push, but offered a sad little smile. “Not to get in your business,” she said. “But they’re really shitty friends. Like…impressively shitty. They don’t care about you.”

You swallowed, the words sinking in slowly. You knew she wasn’t wrong. The rain came down harder now, streaking the glass of the store. The thought of walking home in this weather didn’t seem so awful anymore.

Aniyah reached for your hand without a word and gave it a gentle tug. “C’mon. Let’s go home.”

The two of you stepped out into the storm, the cold biting instantly through your clothes, soaking your hair and skin. Normally, you would’ve been complaining. You tilted your head back, eyes to the sky, letting the rain hit your face freely.

“I’m sorry about my car getting broken,” you murmured, your voice low, barely audible over the rain.

Aniyah let out a breath that was somewhere between a sigh and a laugh. “I’m sorry for not even having a car, babe. I really need to get my shit together.”

Aniyah’s phone suddenly buzzed in her pocket. She paused, pulled it out, and furrowed her brows the second she saw the name flashing on the screen.

“Shit,” she mumbled, already pressing it to her ear. “Hello?” You glanced at her, waiting for her to finish, but her face only grew more serious. “Okay. Yeah. I’m coming now.”

She ended the call and turned to you with an apologetic look.

“I’m really sorry. I gotta go, it’s kind of an emergency. My cousin got into some trouble and I need to go pick him up before my aunt loses her mind.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” you said quickly, shaking your head and stepping back. “It’s fine. I can walk home.”

Aniyah frowned, eyes scanning the clouds above. “Are you sure?”

You offered her the most convincing smile you could. “I’ll be fine, Niya. Seriously. It’s not that far. Go.”

She hesitated for a second longer, then stepped forward and wrapped her arms around you. The hug was warm, just like herself. “Call me if you need anything, alright? And don’t let them get in your head. They’re just bored and petty.”

You nodded against her shoulder. “Thanks, Niya.”

She pulled away, gave your hand a quick squeeze, and took off down the street, jogging as the rain poured harder. You watched her go, her figure disappearing down the block and around the corner. You stood there for a moment, arms crossed tightly over your chest, your purse still in hand. The rain soaked through your blouse quickly, your hair clinging to your face, and your heels squelched slightly with every step. You started walking, but your limbs felt heavy.

A car sped by and drove straight through a puddle near the curb. The splash hit you instantly, dirty water coating your legs, your clothes, and your bag. You gasped, stumbling back, the cold cutting through you so suddenly it made you shake. That was when you finally broke.

You stood there in the middle of the sidewalk, soaked, humiliated, and exhausted. All the pain, all the pressure, all the heartbreak you’d been swallowing down for so long started to rise inside your chest, and you couldn’t hold it back this time. Your face crumpled, a silent sob breaking through as your hands came up to hug your arms, to shield yourself from the world that kept taking and never giving anything back.

You didn’t even care who saw. Your shoulders trembled, tears mixing with the rain, your breathing uneven and fast, but you couldn’t move. You couldn’t do anything but stand there, soaked and shivering, arms curled around yourself.

You don’t know how long you stood there until you suddenly felt the rain stop hitting your head. You frowned in confusion, tears still streaming down your face, when you realized something was blocking it. It was an umbrella. You turned to see who it was and your breath hitched.

Steve Harrington.

His face was unreadable, jaw tense, his eyes flickering with something you couldn’t place. He didn’t say anything except hold the umbrella over you. This was the last thing you ever expected him to do. You stared at him in silence, completely stunned.

Steve did all he could to stay focused on his computer, fingers tapping out the last lines of his report. The screen blurred every few seconds, his mind slipping toward you no matter how hard he tried to push it back. He leaned back in his chair, dragging a hand over his face, willing himself to think about literally anything else.

A soft knock on the door broke the silence. Before he could answer, Nancy stepped in, holding a folder and a coffee that was probably long cold. “Hey,” she greeted casually, closing the door behind her.

Steve sat up straighter, trying to look busy. “Hey, Nance. What’s up?”

“Nothing urgent,” she said, walking over to place the folder on his desk. “Just checking in. You look like your brain’s somewhere else.”

He shook his head, forcing a small smile. “I’m fine. Just tired.”

Nancy tilted her head like she didn’t believe him, but didn’t push. She knew him well enough by now to know that not everything needed to be said out loud. “So, I was talking to your favorite person earlier,” she said lightly.

Steve raised a brow. “My favorite person?”

“You,” she said pointedly, “are terrible at pretending you don’t care. I’m talking about your precious ‘Luxe.’ Her car broke down, apparently. I ended up giving her a ride back to her apartment.”

Something tightened in Steve’s chest before he could stop it. He remembered how your car wasn’t starting the other day and couldn’t help but feel concerned at the thought of you possibly being stranded somewhere, with no one around. Thankfully, you weren’t alone. “Oh. Uh—yeah? She, uh…she okay?”

“She seemed fine,” Nancy replied, watching him too closely. “Although, when I drove off, I saw her talking to two girls outside her place. Judging by their outfits, I’d bet they were her friends from Braiser.”

Steve thought back to how you mentioned an ex-friend calling you once when you two were on the work trip, but you’d changed the subject quickly, not giving him any details as to why you got so upset the other day. “Oh.”

“They reminded me of Y/N’s first day, actually,” Nancy went on with a little laugh. “The day she walked in here, she was so different than she is today. Her clothes, her attitude, literally everything.”

Steve huffed out a quiet laugh, thinking the same exact thing. You have changed a lot since the first time he saw you. He spat so many cruel words at you, assumed so many things that turned out to not all be true. You were a person with depth, but he was too judgemental to see that until he actually got to know you. Now he couldn’t stop his mind from being constantly stuck on you.

Nancy’s voice softened. “Anyway, it’s late, Steve. You should head out. The rain’s coming down hard. Drive safe, okay?”

“Yeah,” Steve muttered, shutting his laptop. “You too, Nance.”

By the time he left the office, the sky was pitch black, the rain pounding against his windshield. His wipers fought to keep up, but visibility was garbage. He was halfway through an intersection when something, or someone, caught his eye on the sidewalk.

At first, it was just a figure in the downpour. Then, as he got closer, his stomach dropped. It was you. You had no umbrella, your hair was plastered to your face, your clothes were drenched, your shoulders shaking as you hugged yourself, your face twisted into an expression that made him realize you were crying.

Steve’s hands tightened on the wheel. He’d never seen you cry before, and it pained him to see you so vulnerable, so hurt as you stood there all by yourself, getting soaked in the rain. He pulled over hard, putting the car into park before rummaging in the backseat for the umbrella he rarely used. The cold hit him instantly as he got out, rain soaking through his shirt in seconds. He couldn’t find it in himself to care, because at this moment, all that mattered was keeping you safe.

Without a word, he stepped up beside you and held the umbrella over your head. You startled, looking up at him, but he didn’t give you the chance to protest. His free hand came to your shoulder, guiding you toward his car.

“Come on,” he said, voice soft.

You didn’t speak the entire time. Not when he opened the passenger door and not when you slid inside dripping water all over his seats. Steve didn’t care about that. He’d happily let you damage his car if it meant you were safe. He shut the door behind you, heart still pounding, rain still hammering down, wondering when the hell it had started to matter this much.

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