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Heroes | Stranger Things x Fem!Henderson!Reader (Interactive!) | Chapter 31 - Can You Stand The Rain

SUMMARY: An unexpected group of outcasts and nerds must come together to solve their small town's mysteries, learning what it means to become found family and heroes.

INTERACTIVE: This story is completely interactive! Place votes at the end of each chapter to determine which paths you go down! Every decision matters!!

A/N: Time feels wrong again.

WARNINGS: Mentions of death, angst

WC: 6.0K

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Two days later

You sat on your bed, leg propped up on a couple of pillows as you played with the hem of your t-shirt.

Some shuffling from the kitchen filled your ears, as well as the mindless chatter from the television from the living room.

Your brother and rest of your friends, with the exception of those in California, went to Nancy’s place to help her clean out some old stuff. You would’ve gone had you been able to walk properly.

It felt odd being in your bedroom despite living in it for nearly your entire life.

You couldn’t remember the last time you could see the floor, and now you could see parts of it.

Steve had been coming by and helping you clean up. He folded all your laundry and had it stacked neatly in the corner, dusted off your furniture, and started to reorganize all your stuff again.

It felt so bizarre.

Three people died and you were just expected to return back to normal life. Three people died and Steve Harrington was cleaning your room.

You didn’t understand.

What the hell happened that night?

The question rang through your mind and honestly as much as you wanted to forget, you couldn’t.

You never would.

“Have you taken your medicine yet?” Steve called from the kitchen, the sound of him rummaging through stuff pausing momentarily.

“No,” you called back.

Steve hummed and you could hear him pull the cabinet open and shake out a few pills from a bottle.

His footsteps padded through the living room and back into your room. He had an ice pack in his hand, a glass of water, and two pills.

He flashed you a small smile, setting the ice pack and water down onto the night stand. He held his hand out to you and you took the two pills, popping them into your mouth. He handed you the glass of water and you drank half of it and thanked him after.

Steve moved to sit on the edge of your bed by your ankle. He gently unbuckled the straps of the boot at your ankle. He slowly slid it off and you winced, shifting slightly.

“Sorry,” he apologized softly.

“It’s okay,” you muttered, watching as he set the boot onto the floor.

“Can you hand me the ice pack, honey?” he asked, looking up at you.

You reached over to your night stand, grabbing the ice cold pack. You handed it to him and he thanked you, placing it against your ankle.

You shifted again.

“Too cold?” he asked.

You shook your head. “It’s fine.”

The room fell silent as you stared at Steve’s hand holding the ice pack against your skin.

Your face fell looking at it.

Billy Hargrove, Max Mayfield, and Eddie Munson died/ended up in a coma and here you were…alive with a fucking boot and ice pack.

“…Eddie Munson, the leader of this cult and prime suspect in the murders, has been missing since the earthquake and is presumed dead.”

The television in the living room was still on, and one sentence in particular caught your attention.

Steve’s eyes immediately darted up to you and saw the way your body language had completely changed.

The way your bottom lip twitched, the way you stiffened and refused to look up.

Steve stood up and walked out to the living room.

“But this offers little comfort to the people of Hawkins, who are scared, angry, and searching for answers. Why their town? What have they done to deserve so much suffering? A growing chorus believes that the two recent tragedies are linked-”

He turned the T.V. off and returned a few seconds later.

Steve looked up at you, trying to figure out what your reaction would be but you seemed to be completely checked out.

You stared at the floor, something like anger, hurt, grief, and almost vengeance, lingering behind your eyes.

It was truly ridiculous for half of Hawkins to believe that Eddie Munson, a boy who barely made it to his twenties, was a part of some cult that split the town into fours. You couldn’t believe some dipshits thought it was true.

But you supposed people needed ways to cope, needed something to believe in to make sense of the oddities of the world.

You hated that it had to be Eddie. Why couldn’t they blame something else? Something else that made even half sense?

Eddie was the sweetest boy you had known. When you first saw him you thought he was a little scary, maybe even mean because of his appearance. But as you got to know him, you found out that he was actually kind, caring, and weirdly charismatic.

Yet, all anyone would ever know him as was the guy who killed a bunch of teens then died himself.

It was disgusting.

Your bottom lip twitched ever so slightly and it didn’t go unnoticed by Steve. Your brows pressed together and soon enough your eyes filled with tears.

Steve’s expression softened as soon as your gaze met his. Your breath hitched slightly as you tried to keep it together, but as soon as Steve spoke, you couldn’t help but to break down.

His words, “Oh, honey, I’m so sorry,” completely did it for you.

You broke down into a sob, the gravity of the loss really hitting you for the first time.

You’d never see Eddie again. Never yell at him for playing that damn guitar too loudly. Never roll your eyes at his corny jokes. Never laugh when he did something so stupidly ridiculous.

You’d never see Eddie Munson again.

Hot tears ran down your face and Steve immediately scooted closer to you, pulling you into a hug. You leaned into his side, breath wavering and a headache already starting to form.

Steve stroked your hair, kissing your hairline and resting his head on top of yours.

And you stayed like that for a while.

Just sitting in silence, your sobs turning into soft sniffles, Steve’s head on yours, his arms wrapped around you as if to never let you go.

You heard the front door to your house creak open and you sat up.

Dustin appeared in the living room followed by-

“Holy shit, El?!” you exclaimed.

El smiled at you, walking into your room, followed by Jonathan, Will, and Mike.

“Hi,” she greeted you, leaning in to give you a hug. She stood up afterwards and glanced down at your ankle. “Your ankle.”

“Your hair.”

Her hair was buzzed just as it was the first time you saw her a few years back.

She looked up at you, lips parted slightly but with an amused curve. “It is a long story.”

Will rounded your bed, practically flying on you to give you a hug. You jumped slightly when he wrapped both his arms around you at lightning speed. “I’m so happy you’re okay,” he said, shutting his eyes and squeezing you tight.

You would’ve said “Me too!” had three other people not died.

He pulled away and you gave him a small smile.

“Forgot about me?”

You looked up and saw Jonathan leaning in the doorway. You narrowed your eyes at him. “Who are you again?”

Jonathan rolled his eyes and walked over to you, ruffling your hair and you smacked his hand away making him chuckle. “Missed you,” he said. He looked over at Steve. “Guess I missed you too?”

Steve pulled his lips into a tight line. “Thanks.”

Dustin sat on the edge of your bed, analyzing your face. It didn’t take a genius to draw the conclusion that you had been crying, your pink and tear stained cheeks a dead giveaway.

His expression softened and he genuinely contemplated not telling you what they had really come over for. He wasn’t so sure you could handle much more.

Though, shockingly, you had been doing relatively fine for someone who lost three people. He didn’t think your mood was as horrible as it was a year ago.

And maybe that was because now you had someone who you confided in sometimes and didn’t care if they saw you at your lowest.

That person was Steve.

For the past two days he had been nothing but a sweetheart. He helped clean your room, helped you when you couldn’t walk, and made sure that you weren’t alone. Because he knew the person you’d become if he left you all alone.

For the past two days he had stayed up at night with you. Sometimes it would be quiet and you’d rest your head on his chest and listen to his heart beat. Other times he talked. He’d tell you about his trip to the store to get you more over the counter medicine or something stupid about his past like a basketball game.

Sometimes you’d cry and cry and instead of keeping it all in, you’d tell him how you were feeling.

One night, you told him almost everything. How you felt like you should’ve seen Billy’s death coming. How you felt like Max didn’t deserve any of it. How you felt like you should’ve done more to protect Eddie.

And instead of Steve telling you that it was fine or that it wasn’t your fault, he stayed quiet. He just listened. He hummed every now and then to let you know he was present.

That was all you wanted.

You didn’t want someone to respond. You didn’t want the advice. You just wanted someone willing to listen to how you felt and Steve was that person.

While it kind of felt good to get some things off of your chest, you hated how it felt to confront your emotions. Talking about it meant you had to feel every ounce of pain, grief, regret, and guilt. You hated it. You didn’t want to feel it. So, as soon as you realized that talking about it made you relive the trauma, you ignored it.

Mike came over and gave you a side hug with a small smile. “Long time no see.”

You hummed. “Kinda liked it better that way, Wheeler.”

“Ouch!” Mike exclaimed, clutching his chest.

You smirked and leaned to sit against your headboard, resting your head against Steve’s shoulder.

Dustin inhaled deeply, trying to sound as casual as possible. “So uh…we were uhm, you know, shooting the shit,” he began, earning a raised brow from you. “And uhm…well we’re going to see Max and just wanted to extend the invite,” he said rather awkwardly. “Only if you’re up for it of course, no pressure.”

Max had been in the hospital the past two days and was somehow alive, though El would explain later that it was thanks to her. You too were in the hospital for a day due to your ankle and after you were discharged, you went straight home and you hadn’t been back there since.

That’s not to say you were an asshole or anything, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to see her.

You felt horrible because you were sure that if circumstances were different and it was you in the hospital and Max awake, she’d see you every day.

You were terrified to go see her because it meant seeing the destruction that you caused. Seeing what you failed to prevent. So, you subconsciously pretended that it didn’t happen.

You stiffened slightly, feeling awkwardly all too seen by everyone in the room. Feeling as though they could read your thoughts and would shame you for it.

“I think uh…” you trailed off. “I think I’ll have to sit this one out. Can’t really walk anyway,” you said, motioning to your ankle.

Dustin nodded understandably. “I get it, no worries.”

You chatted a bit with the others about California and they talked about it as if it were the best state in all the U.S., which it definitely is.

El and Will vaguely talked about school and Jonathan talked a bit about his stoner friend Argyle who you couldn’t help but to think would get along well with Eddie.

The group left after a while, leaving you and Steve.

“Do you think I should’ve gone?” you asked, looking up at him.

Steve sucked his teeth. “I think you should go whenever you’re ready.”

You sighed, resting your head on his shoulder. “And if I’m never ready?”

“You will be.”

One month later

The breeze blew against your skin, the scent of spring pollen filling your nose. The leaves gently crunched under your feet as you took slow careful steps. It had been a few days since you stopped wearing your boot and began walking again, though it felt strange doing something seemingly so simple.

An annoyed groan escaped your lips as you sat down crisscrossed, a certain metal head’s guitar pic necklace dangling around your neck.

You screwed the cap off of the bottle of acetone and dumped some of it onto the headstone in front of you and began to scrub it clean with a wired brush.

Red paint dripped down the headstone, some of it clinging to your skin. Your scrubs began to speed up the more you thought about it.

People continued to graffiti Eddie’s headstone with unkind words. It seemed every time you cleaned it, someone came right back with more ruthless intent.

Your grief began to turn into something far more dangerous. Vengeance. Especially since you stopped talking about it. Your grief consumed you and the more you ignored it, the more it built up into pent up anger.

You wanted Henry dead. You wanted everyone who hated Eddie dead.

Those nights you couldn’t sleep, instead of crying, you plotted.

You fantasized about the ways you’d kill Henry. What you’d say. How you’d say it.

Some members of the town grew slightly weary of you.

You’d already cussed out principal Higgins.

Word had gotten around campus that they wouldn’t call Eddie’s name at the graduation ceremony. You stormed into his office and he explained how he wanted to “avoid controversy”. You called him out on his bullshit excuse and cussed him out, earning yourself the ability to not walk at the graduation ceremony.

You didn’t care anyway, you hated high school and were ready to move on.

Some students in the halls avoided eye contact with you. You’d already gone off on a few people for claiming that Eddie was the devil in disguise.

You finished cleaning off his headstone, letting out a sigh. “You know, I’m kinda sick of buying twenty bottles of acetone a week. Even in death you’re annoying as shit,” you joked, talking to…well no one. You just imagined Eddie could hear you anyway in the afterlife.

You’d come by and visit him every day, telling him about your life and random dreams you’d have. You’d joke like in the past, hoping he was laughing somewhere.

“Oh, and uh, guess what? I’m officially not walking at graduation,” you spoke, rolling your eyes. “I don’t really care anyway, I’ve actually got work that day.” You shifted, staring at the headstone. “Kinda wish you here though, it’s uhm…it sucks talking to stone. Wish I could see your stupid face and hear your stupid laugh,” you said, grief seeping into each and every word.

You glanced down at your nails, swallowing hard. “I only ever see you, you know. I don’t see Billy or Max…” you trailed off, embarrassed, admitting it out loud. “I’m ashamed to say it. Billy’s literally in the same radius as you and I just- I don’t know, I can’t go over there. And Max, that’s just a whole other story. I don’t know what it is but the thought of going to see her fills me with so much anxiety, I just can’t.”

Your bottom lip twitched, that familiar feeling of guilt cutting through you like a knife. “Maybe it’s because going to see her means owning up to what I did. Same with Billy, but…I don’t know.”

You sniffled and wiped a tear and ran down your cheek. “Fuck, I’m literally talking to no one right now,” you half laughed, half cried. “I hope somewhere, somehow, you’re listening, because I really miss you. It’s like ever since you left I- I…lost myself. I never really realized that you were my- like, my glue. One of the few people in my life with the rare ability to keep me whole.” More tears fell from your face. You blamed gravity, but your emotions said otherwise.

You wiped your face again, blinking rapidly. “Robin’s been doing okay, same with Will and Dustin, but they all miss you a lot. I miss you a lot. Sometimes I have these dreams where we’re hanging out, just like we used to. You’re playing that guitar too damn loud while I try to read. You laugh and make fun of me for getting annoyed so easily and I throw my book at you and I get to hear that laugh of yours. And then you crack the corniest joke I’ve ever heard and I laugh too. But…then I wake up. And I realize that none of it was real. I snap back into the reality that you’re gone and I’m still here trying so hard to move on. But I can’t. How can I move on when you’re not here with me? How is it fair for me to walk into the future while you’re buried in the past?”

By now your face was soaked in tears as you wiped them in your sleeve, your sleeve so wet that it was just smearing tears across your face. “I’m gonna find him. Henry. And when I do, he’s going to regret ever fucking with any of us. He’s still out there somewhere, planning something, I’m just not sure what. But it isn’t going to happen. So long as I’m alive.”

Knock knock

Dustin groaned, rolling over in his bed and pulling the sheets tighter.

Knock knock

“Oh my fucking…” he grumbled, climbing out of bed and walking to the front door, already knowing who it was. “What?” he asked, harsher than intended.

Steve raised his brows, caught off guard by his tone. “Hey, uh, is your sister here?”

“No.”

Steve blinked. “Well, where is she?”

“I don’t know,” Dustin groaned. “Probably went to see Eddie or something.”

Steve scratched the back of his neck. “Oh…when do you think she’ll be home?”

“Don’t know,” Dustin said, growing more annoyed by the second.

“When did she leave?”

Dustin shut his eyes and sighed. “Don’t know.”

“Okay, well what-”

“Can you stop asking me a billion questions like I’m some magic eight ball?” Dustin snapped. “You can just wait here for her to come back.”

Dustin turned around and walked towards his room, leaving the front door open.

Steve blinked. “Jeez,” he mumbled, walking inside and shutting the door.

He huffed and rolled his eyes, annoyed by how Dustin had been acting recently. Steve sat on the couch, turning on the television and waiting for you to get back.

Half an hour had gone by and the locks on the door clicked. The door opened and you walked in. You stopped in the doorway, looking up to see Steve on your couch.

He smiled at you and you pulled your lips into a tight line. You shut the door behind you and walked into the kitchen, tossing your keys onto the counter.

Steve stood up, walking into the same room as you. “Where’d you go?” he asked, popping up behind you.

You leaned over the sink, washing the red paint off your hands, crimson water flowing down the sink. “No where.”

Steve furrowed his brows, watching the paint drip down your hands and into the skin. “What is that?”

“Nothing,” you mumbled, turning the sink off and drying your hands. You turned around and walked into your room, Steve following.

He shut the door behind him. He knew you well. Too well. You were falling back into bad habits. Closing him and everyone else off again.

He didn’t want to see you struggle again like you had last year. This was something he could fix, and he could do it now.

You opened up your dresser drawer, pulling out a t-shirt and sweatpants.

“You okay?” Steve asked.

You pulled your shirt over your head, tossing it into your laundry hamper. “Yeah.”

Steve watched as you pulled a t-shirt over your head and began to unbutton your jeans. “Are you sure? We can talk about it.”

You tossed your jeans into the laundry hamper, climbing into your sweats. “I’d rather not.”

Steve sighed, walking over to you. He placed his hands onto your hips. “I’m right here. You can talk to me.”

You stiffened. “I know, Steve, but I just don’t wanna talk about it.”

Steve nodded. “Okay,” he murmured, giving your lips a quick peck. “Oh, I was uh…” he trailed off with a smile. “I was wondering if you wanted to go out tonight? Enozo’s. You know, we haven’t gone on our date yet and I just thought it’d be nice.”

Your expression softened. You wanted to go out with him, you really did, but you weren’t in the mood to do much. Your trip to see Eddie left you with a heavy heart.

And besides that, it felt weird going out and having a good time when two people died and another was in a coma because of you.

“Not today,” you said. “I’m just…kinda tired.”

You could immediately tell that Steve was hurt. “It’s okay.”

It was quiet for a beat.

“Look, I don’t wanna go back to how you were last year,” Steve said suddenly.

You blinked. “What are you talking about?”

“You know what I’m talking about,” he said softly. “It’s like you’re not even here some days. You act so…different.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” you snapped, pulling away from his touch with your arms crossed over your chest.

Steve realized that his words didn’t come out how he intended them to. “No, no, no, I didn’t mean it like-”

“No, I think you did,” you said, hurt written all over your face.

You knew you had changed. You were colder. You were angry all the time and you even hated yourself for it. You hated the person you were becoming.

Steve sighed, brows pressed together. “I’m just saying, you’ve changed.”

“Well in case you forgot my best friend died, my other friend also died, another is in a coma, and my biological father is still out there probably plotting his next move. So, sorry if I’ve changed,” you grumbled, rolling your eyes.

Steve ran a hand through his hair. “No, you’re misconstruing my words.”

“Misconstruing?” you scoffed. “You literally just said I’ve changed? You just said I act different.”

“Yeah,” Steve now scoffed. “And honestly, I think it’s because you’ve stopped talking about your emotions. You’ve always done that. You always bury how you feel and act like if you ignore it, it doesn’t exist.”

You tensed, feeling completely exposed. Steve read you like a damn book and it hurt more because it was true.

You never handled your emotions well.

A month ago you talked to Steve, and were honest with how you felt. And now you were so consumed in anger you started to go back to not speaking. You didn’t want to keep talking about it, it hurt too much to say it. It made it too real for you.

“How are you ever going to move on if you can’t face your fears?” Steve asked. “Ignoring it might make it hurt less, but it doesn’t make it go away. It’s still very real.”

You shut your eyes, shaking your head. “I’m not doing this right now,” you said, moving to walk past him.

Steve grabbed your wrist gently, stepping in front of you and stopping you from leaving. “You’re not grieving properly. It’s just gonna eat you alive until you deal with what happened.”

“I am dealing with it, okay?” you snapped. “I don’t want to have this conversation with you. Not now. Not later. Not ever. I am fine, Steve. Now, can you move?”

Steve snapped his fingers. “That. That right there is what I’m talking about. You can’t even have a serious conversation with me about your own emotions.”

“I can, I just don’t want to.”

“Okay, if you can then, let’s sit down and have it.”

You stared at Steve, and he could sense your irritation. “What is your problem?”

“I don’t have a problem,” Steve said. “I’m just trying to help you because I love you.”

You looked away from him, your wrist still in his hand. “Can you let go?” you muttered.

Steve’s fingers uncurled from your wrist. “I just want to help you. That’s all.”

You shook your head. “It doesn’t matter how much you try to help me, this is never going to be the same.”

“What’s not going to be the same?”

“Us.”

Steve’s heart sank, his eyes filled with tears and for a second he thought he had died and ended up in hell. “What?” he asked, voice cracking.

“Well it’s clear to me you want someone who’s emotionally available.” Your eyes filled with tears as you shook your head. “I can’t be that for you, Steve. I can’t handle what I’m going through and you at the same time.”

You stiffened, that last sentence not coming out as intended.

Steve tilted his head slightly. “What the hell is that supposed to mean? You don’t love me?”

“I- I never said that,” you faltered.

“Then tell me.”

“Tell you what?”

“That you love me!”

You blinked back your tears, looking at Steve. You then realized something. “Did you not read the letter?”

Steve shifted, looking away. Truth be told, he hadn’t. It was in the glovebox of his car, tucked away. He couldn’t bring himself to read it because it meant reliving the day you almost died.

You scoffed and nodded your head. “I wrote that for you,” you said, hurt cracking through your tone. “I poured my heart out to you because I thought I was going to die and you didn’t even fucking read it.”

“I-I’m sorry,” Steve apologized. “I just- I can’t. It hurts too much to think about.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “You’re such a hypocrite.”

Steve now shook his head too. “Don’t do that. These are two completely different things.”

“Oh, so you get to not face your emotions but I have to?” you asked sarcastically.

Steve let out a sigh. “I’m not gonna watch you do this to yourself. Not again.”

“Then don’t.”

Steve blinked in disbelief, not even knowing what to say.

Hot tears filled your eyes. “I can’t do this,” you muttered.

“Then let me help,” Steve urged you, taking a few steps towards you.

You stepped back away from him. “No, I’m not talking about grieving. I’m talking about us.”

Steve blinked back the tears that threatened to spill. “Don’t do that. Please don’t.” The hurt in his tone made you want to cry. You loved Steve more than anything, but you hated the way he wanted you to confront the darkest parts of yourself.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, bottom lip trembling.

Steve shook his head, heart hammering so loud he could hear it in his own ears. “I thought this was something worth fighting for?” he asked, referring to the day you agreed that your relationship was one worth fighting for. “You said that our love was.”

“I want to love you, Steve,” you muttered, vision blurry from the tears. “But you make it so damn hard to.”

You loved Steve, you did. But he made you feel like you were drowning sometimes. The constant checking on you and now he was pushing you to do something you had been trying so hard to avoid.

Steve blinked, desolation and anger filling him. “So now I’m too hard to love?” he scoffed. “I’ve done nothing but been there for you,” he protested. “All those nights you’ve cried I’ve been there to hold you. Every time you’ve needed something I’ve done everything in my willpower to get it, and you know damn well I’d move a mountain for you. Even when you’ve cussed me out, yelled at me in my face, and quite literally treated me like shit, I’ve stayed. I’ve stayed because I love you, so don’t tell me I’m too fucking hard to love,” he snapped, his anger rising with each word. “You wanna talk about being too hard to love? If anything you’re too hard to love.”

And there it was.

The thing you feared the most coming to fruition.

For a long time you avoided telling Steve, or anyone for that matter, that you were Henry’s daughter, because you were scared they would see you differently. That they wouldn’t love you.

But turns out, your heritage wasn’t the problem.

You were.

You were never good at handling your emotions and now you were experiencing the consequences of it.

Your bottom lips trembled, tears streaming down your face. “Fuck you, Harrington.”

Steve scoffed. “Yeah, fuck me. The one person who you got to treat like shit but loved you regardless. The one person who stayed with you because it was clear you were struggling.”

You wanted to break down right there, and you were starting to, but you didn’t want to in front of him. Not while he was standing in front of you shoving a mirror in your face.

“Remember when you said you didn’t even know why I was with you?” Steve asked, tears slipping down his face despite his anger and cruel words. “I honestly don’t even know why I was with you either.”

His words cut through you like a knife to your chest. You never deserved him and you knew it. You knew it the entire relationship. Everyone always gave him shit for being insecure, but really you were too.

“Now you’re just being mean, Steve,” you cried, wiping your face in frustration. Steve’s expression softened slightly. He loved you, he always would, but he couldn’t help but to feel as though he’d exerted so much energy into you and that you hadn’t given him anything back.

The relationship felt one sided sometimes and it wasn’t fair to him.

He knew you were going through a lot, but this argument was his breaking point. He’d kept how he felt bottled up because it felt selfish and inconsiderate to go to you and tell you that he felt like you didn’t love him back. So he stayed quiet, his own frustrations building up.

“I’m just being honest,” Steve muttered. “You were honest with me so now I’m being honest with you.”

“So you think I never loved you?” you asked, voice cracking.

Steve stared at you for a moment. “Do you realize how bad you treated me last year?” he asked. “You don’t treat someone you love like that.”

He was right.

You pushed him away, argued, fought, yelled at him.

Was that how you were supposed to treat someone you loved?

“So, no, I don’t think you ever loved me,” he said. “I think that before all of this, you were a good person. I think you were beautiful inside and out, and that’s why I fell in love with you. But now, I don’t even know who you are anymore. I saw pieces of you through the ugliest parts of our relationship, but now you’re not the same girl I fell in love with.” His bottom lip trembled as his voice cracked. “And it hurts. It hurts more than you’ll ever know because I keep trying so hard to bring her back but she’s not even trying herself. I can’t save someone who doesn’t want to be saved.”

Your cheeks and nose were flushed pink as tears streamed down your face. Hearing his words was like a slap to the face. “I’m…” you began, your voice falling apart. “I’m not who you fell in love with?”

Steve shook his head. “No. You’re not.”

You choked on a sob, nodding, unable to look at him. “You’re a liar,” you muttered. “You said you’d never leave and now you’re leaving. You said I ruined the part of you that knows how. You said that whoever I was, you’d still be there!” you shouted the last part, pointing an accusatory finger at him. “I asked you what if you had fabricated a version of me in your head and- and you fucking promised me that you’d stay,” you cried. “I was telling you that I wasn’t who you thought I was but you decided to stay anyway.”

Steve stiffened because Dustin had also told him prior to getting with you that he might’ve had a fabricated version of you in his head. He told Steve that maybe, just maybe, Steve loved the idea of you. As time passed, it grew increasingly true.

Steve had his idea in his head that if he tried hard enough, you’d go back to the girl he fell for. But nothing could ever erase what happened. He couldn’t make you not be Henry’s daughter anymore. He couldn’t bring back the dead.

He couldn’t bring back the girl he fell so desperately in love with.

Just then, Steve realized something. For a long time, ever since the beginning, it had been heavily foreshadowed the play of events. He just chose to ignore it.

“Why would you say that to me?” you cried, voice cracking. “Why would you ever lie to me?”

Steve’s expression softened as he wiped his tears. He avoided eye contact, too ashamed to look at you.

“I really hate you,” you whispered.

“Yeah,” Steve whispered. “Well, it’s a good thing I’m not your boyfriend anymore, then. Right?”

Steve walked out of your room, slamming the door shut. Soon after, the front door slammed shut.

That’s when you broke down.

You sat on the edge of your bed, hands covering your face as you cried. The worst part was that neither of you were necessarily in the wrong. You didn’t treat Steve very well for a long time. Sure, you were struggling, but it didn’t excuse your behavior.

And Steve had this idea that he could fix everything. That he could make you the bubbly, happy, person that you once were.

But looking beyond the ugly parts of your relationship, there was something there. There always had been. And that was love. You both loved each other more than anything.

He was the right person, you had just gotten together at the wrong time.

Now emotions and stakes were high, leading to a messy breakup that neither of you deep down ever wanted.

Your door creaked open and Dustin sat beside you, pulling you into a hug, rubbing your back.

He didn’t even need to ask what happened. He heard everything.

Steve climbed into his car, slamming the door shut and turning the keys into the ignition, music starting to play.

“But I need somebody who will stand by me”

“When it’s tough she won’t run”

“She will always be right there for me”

“Sunny days, everybody loves them”

“Tell me baby, can you stand the rain?”

Steve scoffed, the song rather ironic for his situation. His hand dropped to the gear shift when his eyes landed on the glove box. He hesitated, sighing before reaching over and opening it.

He took your letter out, looking at the back. You wrote his name neatly, a little heart beside it. His heart ached immensely.

He took a deep breath before opening it, unfolding the lined paper.

His eyes read it over and each and every word made him want to run back into your house and apologize, make you take him back and kiss you all over.

Because you had poured your whole heart.

You told him everything. You admitted words you’d never dare to utter out loud. As he read he could hear your voice. He could hear the sincerity in your tone and how much you rawly admitted everything.

He was so angry, so hurt, so confused, but the more he read, the more he understood the complexity of your nature.

You had never loved someone as much as you loved Steve Harrington. And now you wanted nothing to do with him.

Pick a pity letter (aka someone who wasn’t chosen yet)

Robin

El

Will

Mike

Nancy

Billy

Remaining time: 4 days 10 hours

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A/N: Okayyy and that’s a wrap on season 4!! I hope you guys enjoyed and I hope you guys end up liking what I’ve got planned for season 5!! I’ll be dropping the letters soon and afterwards we’ll start the next season and you’ll get your ability to vote back!

And yes, the reader still loves Steve and yes, Steve still loves the reader, so yes they will be low key pining over one another next season.

The reader and Steve are 100% still love interests as of right now so this is not a grantee greeting rid of him lol. Don’t worry Steve lovers, I’ve always had this breakup planned *cough cough* all the foreshadowing! Luckily they’re still very much so in love so we’ll see how things play out next season.

I know there’s a lot of discourse about Steve, but whether you’re a lover or a hater, it’s all gonna work out just trust my crazy mind (I’ve got an ending that I think/hope will satisfy everyone).

We’re ALMOST halfway through this fic and I’m super excited to begin act ll (that’s the real deal!)

Alsooo next season you all better vote very very very carefully. I think it’s clear I’m not holding back on deaths so vote wisely. 😁 #iwillkilloffeveryoneifyoudontvoteright

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Jonathan’s Letter

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How I feel plotting a few more plot twists

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