Steve Harrington isn't sure he's ever felt beautiful.
He is sure it would be a surprise to most.
However, Steve is overwhelmed with himself. And not in a good way. The constant feeling of the stretch of his skin, every lump, every scar. It's hard to breathe sometimes for Steve.
There is too much of him. Hair everywhere. Worried lips. Voice fluctuating.
Too many errors. Picked cuticles, bitten nails, and crooked noses.
Too many flaws. Loudmouth has nothing to show for it. Big money, but not enough to fix.
When Steve Harrington looks at himself, he doesn't see something he defines as beauty.
Sure he's been called many things across the board. Hot, sexy, and even the occasional handsome. That is typically reserved though for old women at Family Video and his mother's book club in 79' (a disaster of an idea considering it was mostly day drinking). And although Steve is called all these things and more, he hasn't really felt them. They are just more meaningless words he is supposed to nod his head along to. It's rude not to take a compliment, he can hear his mother's voice saying.
But Steve Harrington does not feel beautiful. He knows it's not a masculine word. He can almost hear the unspoken slur every time his father calls Steve a pretty boy, good for nothing but his looks.
(Steve doesn't think it's his father's insults that make him feel this way. He thinks that his comments might have to do more with his repressed bisexuality though. That's a talk for Robin for sure.)
Steve knows he shouldn't feel this way. Should be grateful for the compliments, the praise. It's rude, he knows. To be so ungracious. He can't just push them off, he can't argue.
He knows it isn't good, and isn't healthy to put this on other people. That he should work from the inside than out. Even so, Steve can't help but wonder if it's all his years being put inside a particular box that is the problem.
Who is he to argue with everyone else too? They always know better. The girls at school have told him what eye candy he is. His old buddies would tell him they wish they looked like him. Even the kids would mostly compliment him aesthetically. Talk about his way with women. Talk about how he's lucky he's got looks.
(He thinks he should be bothered more by the value of his looks than his intelligence, but that problem feels separate to Steve. He isn't really sure if he can explain it.)
Maybe that is the problem. People talk more about his looks than to him. Around him, through him, but not to him. Or maybe it's because Steve thinks they are just being kind, being pitiful. If Steve can't be smart, can't be creative, can't be talented all that is left is looks. People can't bullshit the other things, but they can all pretend he's a good-looking guy.
He is probably being dramatic if he's being honest. He can feel the sinking weight of the words selfish, self-centered, vain. It's like a horrible thrumming in his chest, every time he thinks too hard about it. Thankless and paranoid, Steve usually keeps quiet.
It's when Steve meets Robin Buckley, things start to change just a little bit. She's the first to come the closest to making him believe he can maybe be beautiful.
It's after a shift at Family Video. Robin and Steve are sitting on the hood of his BMW at the quarry. They're stargazing. Something that before Robin, Steve would have considered a waste of time.
He is so very glad he met Robin.
Steve has never really told anyone how he feels about himself. He doesn't think it would do him any good. He comes close though when suddenly Robin turns from looking at the sky, looks directly at his face, and says, "Sometimes, you remind me of the stars."
Steve startles and comes up with an eloquent "Huh?"
Robin giggles softly. "It's the moles. Reminds me of the constellations. I sometimes want to connect them, see if they match."
Steve just stares, unsure of what to say. Feels captured by her. Can feel that familial love between them grow even more.
Robin reaches out. Carefully, delicately, as if Steve might stop her. She brushes against the moles across his face and lightly connects them. "Pretty."
It's just one word, but for a moment Steve believes it's true. It's only a second, but he thinks he might remember this moment forever.
"Thanks Rob." He whispers, afraid to break the moment.
Rob pauses for a second before continuing the journey back and forth on his face. It's if she can tell how fragile he is when she whispers back "No problem Dingus."
He doesn't believe it for very long, but it at least makes him more grateful for Robin.
Steve Harrington isn't sure he's ever felt beautiful.
Well, until he meets Eddie Munson.
It's small at first. From the second Eddie meets Steve, it's almost as if he can read every single thought that comes across his mind.
And when they become friends, after Vecna, after it all, it's as if Eddie can see completely through Steve.
Eddie notices when Steve gets uncomfortable with backhanded compliments on his looks. When Steve tenses in the slightest towards what the kids, customers, or even Nance are saying (he remembers a distinct can't believe another woman hasn't been fooled by the Harrington looks yet, from her). And at first, Eddie seems to just catch on and change the subject. Shifts the attention to himself instead.
But then Eddie starts to correct people. Shape the compliments better, more suited to Steve. There is a girl trying to flirt with him in Family Video once when Eddie is visiting. Steve isn't super receptive to it and even shrinks away a bit when the girl—Sadie he thinks her name is—looks him up and down and says "Sorry I'm taking so long, just I can't help if you're so distracting. You look so good today Steve,"
It doesn't feel good, even though he wants it to. But then there is Eddie cutting Sadie off by saying, "It's the smile isn't it?"
Eddie looks directly at Steve, chin in his hands as he leans across the counter. There is a slight uptilt to his lips while ignores Sadie's confused "Huh?"
"Can't look away when you see a smile that bright."
Steve doesn't think too badly about himself for the rest of the day.
After that something shifts in Eddie too. The verbal comments don't become fewer, but the looks do become more frequent. It's these absolutely intoxicating looks, that shake Steve to his core.
Eddie's eyes trail him, whisper to him, fucking follow his every movement.
There is this one time when Steve throws his head back and laughs harder than has in his life when Robin trips into Nancy's lap. He is sure it really isn't that funny, and he knows he looks awful with the snorting and tears running down his face. But Eddie, Eddie's eyes just follow the line of Steve's neck, connect all of his moles with his gaze, and just beams at Steve.
For a moment, Steve feels gorgeous.
Even with these little things, Steve Harrington doesn't feel beautiful.
After everything with Vecna, what little he liked about himself is quite literally torn apart. The stares are mixed now. Some admire him, some look upon him in horror. He can't decide which feels worse. They both make him feel so distinctly other. Something to look at, something to hang on the wall and contemplate.
And moments like these ones, sitting in his backyard in broad daylight, in 90-degree weather for a pool party the kids begged him to have, he can't help but cover himself up. Hide away.
Eddie sits next to him in the lounge chair on his right with a distinct plop, shaking Steve from his spiral momentarily.
"You doing alright there big boy?" Eddie raises an eyebrow.
"Yea. I'm good man." Steve tries to shake off.
"Really? Cause like I know you and Rambo—" Eddie points at Nancy "—don't exactly go in the water anymore, but the least you can do is take your shirt off. It's hotter than Satan's ass out here, and that's a lot coming from me. Considering my reputation with knowing him personally and all."
Steve looks out at the backyard, at the kids in the water, at Robin trying hopelessly not to stare at Nancy, and he contemplates for a moment. He could lie to Eddie, but that didn't feel right. They had grown too close for that. He could tell him to shove off, and Steve knows that Eddie would, no questions asked. It doesn't feel right either. Because for once, Steve wants. Steve aches. So he turns to Eddie slowly and says "I don't want them to stare."
Steve doesn't specify who. He doesn't think he needs to. It's not really anyone really. Or maybe it's everyone.
Instead of telling him they won't stare, or he has nothing to be ashamed or that he's a hot piece of ass, Eddie says "Why don't you want them to?"
Steve feels like he's been hit by a truck.
He takes a sharp breath "I—I just feel—" He tilts his head back trying to hold back tears before looking at Eddie again "—It just makes me feel like a thing. Like something to observe. The scars, they are just awful. And I know yours are the same but it's just different. It fits you, not me. I'm not sure anything fits me really. And—and even if it's not the scars they stare cause they think I like it, like it's a compliment. But I don't believe it. It's not true. It never has been, even before the Upside Down. I'm just Steve. I'm just here and..." he trails off. Steve doesn't even think he is making any sense in the slightest. But then he sees Eddie's face through the tears, so serious and kind, and Steve sees that Eddie just gets it.
Without hesitation, Eddie stands up and grabs Steve's wrist lightly, and drags him up. "C'mon" is all he says before taking Steve inside.
Steve expects a speech, Eddie is famous for them, but instead all he does is pull him into the kitchen. "Let's make the kids lunch, yeah?"
So they do. For the next five minutes, they work in comfortable silence, preparing sandwiches. Steve's shoulder's relax, the tension begins to leave his body. He can feel Eddie's warmth at his side. Can hear Eddie start to hum the tune of "Everybody wants to Rule the World" next to him, even though Steve is certain Eddie hates Tears for Fears. And because Steve knows it's for him he can't help the smile that blooms across his face, dimples and all.
Suddenly, Eddie stops humming and takes Steve's face into his hands, caressing his cheeks with his thumbs. Back and forth. Back and forth.
Steve's smile, albeit softer now, remains on his face when he asks, "What?"
Eddie leans in, a whisper away from his lips, and replies "Beautiful."
He then kisses Steve in the only way that can be described as devoted affection. It's warm and true. It's like coming home.
And Steve Harrington for the first time feels beautiful.
When time moves on, and Steve has bad days, where he feels like he's rotting from the inside out, he remembers this moment. He remembers when his boyfriend saw him covered in sweat, tears, and mayo, and can't help but kiss him for the first anyway.
He remembers Eddie can't see anything beyond Steve's smile and think that he was anything but beautiful.
Do I develop Steve's character more than necessary? yes. Will it ever stop me? no. Sorry I love a good character study. I need to do one for Eddie next.
Not much to say here except, like steve says this might not make a whole lot of sense, but it felt good to get out. Sometimes it's okay to want to be called pretty. It's not shallow or vain. It's good for the soul. Hope the pacing was okay. Llet me know what to write next <3
