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idk what i’m doing :P

[ohwell-al]

Falling

part 2 part 1 here steve harrington x reader word count: 13.2k summary: you left steve. well, not for forever, at least you hoped not. feeling wrecked over your fight, and steve left to pick up the pieces in an empty home, will you find it in you to forgive him, or leave the both of you falling apart? content/warnings: ANGST, hurt/comfort (actual comfort this time), fluff (FINALLY), kissing, flirting, swearing, reader has hair, reader is shorter than steve, mentions of anxiety, kind of self-harm (finger picking and biting), insecurities, mentions of weight, art teacher!reader, coach/teacher!steve, one single use of y/n (i couldn't figure out how to get around it), crying, pathetic steve honestly, let me know if i missed anything!

a/n: hi everyone! thank you so much for being patient with me. i apologize for the delay, i've been working late a lot and i had finals last week so it's been pretty hectic but she is here!!! i hope y'all enjoy this part 2! i really appreciate everyone's comments and i have tagged everyone who has requested to be tagged! xx divider by @cursed-carmine

Present, Tuesday

Tossing and turning on the couch in Nancy and Jonathan’s living room, your body began to sweat and your mind elsewhere. You opened your eyes to see yourself in a pitch black void, the ground underneath you solid, but black as tar. You looked around you, trying to find a source of light or anything but black nothingness. You were dreaming.

Turning around rapidly- back and forth- you spot two people.

“Hello,” you shout into the void, hoping to catch their attention.

You start walking towards the pairing, shouting to grab their attention.

“Hey,” you said, trying again with no avail, your presence to them was nonexistent.

Once you got closer to make out who the strangers were, you stopped in your tracks only a couple of feet away. It was Steve and Laurie.

They were talking to each other, laughing at whatever each person was saying. You stood in front of them just a few steps away, observing them like an audience. You couldn’t make out what they were saying because it was all gibberish. Nothing was making sense. Taking a few steps forward, you hoped they would soon realize you were standing there and stop and look at you. Deep down, you were hoping Steve would look at you.

Eventually you were only a foot away from them, still not acknowledging your attendance. Their words were jumbled but it seemed like whatever they were talking about, they were speaking in a language only they could understand.

“Steve,” your voice barely above a whisper, trying to catch his attention.

You watched as Laurie moved her head up towards Steve’s ear, whispering something to him. Whatever it was, made his face blush and his ears change to a bright red hue. A smirk creeped up on his face. His face turned towards Laurie, reaching down to catch her lips.

You immediately took a step back, your face crestfallen. 

They didn’t stop. It felt like you were part of a CIA torture project and their task was to shatter your heart into the smallest pieces possible. You rapidly took more steps back, trying to get away from the sight, but the more steps you took, the closer they got, like they were following you- tethered. 

You turned around to look away and their bodies appeared back in front of you, getting closer and closer. The two were embraced, lips glued to each other.

Tears poured from your eyes, feet stomping on the pitch black ground trying to get away. You whipped your head around to see them, their figures disappearing. You turned your head back forward, only to have the kissing figures stand in front of you. The sudden movement caused you to trip over your feet, falling to the ground. The pitch black ground felt endless, but the paint shooting through your knees felt real. Your hands were splayed below you, trying to hold up your weight.

Your tears cascading below, your sobs growing louder and louder. The laughs of Steve and Laurie echoed throughout the space, bouncing off invisible walls. You brought your hands to your ears trying to sound out the horrible sound.

You shot up on the couch, hands grabbing towards your ears. The sound of your heavy, staggering breathing pierced through the living room. Your body broke out in a sweat soaking through your pajamas you packed. You made a mental note to wash these, along with the slow growing pile of dirty clothes, when the sun came up.

Your head slapped back down on the lumpy decorative pillow behind you. This was the only spare pillow they had, but you gratefully took it. It was better than laying your head down on a hard armrest. You clamped your hand to your chest, feeling your heart thump thump thump like a drum against your ribcage.

This has been a recurring nightmare for the past three days since you’ve been staying here. You thought sleep would be a good getaway from the constant turmoil running rampant through your mind but it seems to have only manifested itself into your worst nightmare.

The only thing you have been able to think about since you left that Saturday morning was Steve. You were constantly worrying about him. If he was okay, if he was eating, how he was feeling, if you made everything worse, if you should have just put it behind you and let it be, then maybe it would have gotten better on its own or if maybe you could have just gotten over it.

But that option was too late. You already left. You were going to have to deal with the confrontation eventually, you just didn’t know when. You told yourself you needed to give yourself time to think, but deep down you know you’re just putting it off for as long as you can, hoping it will fix itself on its own. But that’s sadly not how it works. Eventually, you’re going to have to go back home and actually talk to Steve and figure out what to do. You’re just using this as a way to have a little escape from everything. Well, at least as much of an escape as you can possibly have.

You still saw Steve at school in passing. He’s tried to approach you, with it ending in you doing a 180 and walking back to where you came from. You weren’t ready to face it yet. It was only Tuesday, three days having passed, but it felt like it’s been weeks, months without him.

You didn’t know when you were going to be ready.

Steve was hoping it would be soon.

༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻

The Saturday Before

When Steve came back home that afternoon from baseball practice with the kids, he expected to walk in and see you. He planned everything out during practice of what he was going to say to you to make up for everything. He felt like a fool, like he watched you fall through his hands like sand slipping away.

You were the best thing that’s ever happened to him and he felt like an idiot for giving you an opportunity to leave. He had to make it up to you or he would spend the rest of his life making it his mission to get you back. He didn’t care what he had to do to get it. All he knew was you were his life. He was nothing without you.

Walking inside the house, Steve called out for you. Not hearing a reply, he walked towards the bedroom, stopping in his tracks as he saw a piece of paper on the kitchen counter.

Your note.

He grabbed it, eyes scanning the scribbled and rushed writing. He didn’t know how many times he read it, or even how long he stood in place, note gripped between his fingers as he tried to understand what was happening. The reality of it crashing around him.

Steve felt like he was suffocating. You left. And he didn’t know when you were going to be back. Or if you were ever going to come back.

He can’t believe he let it get this far, let himself believe it was going to blow over and he could apologize and it would fix everything. He never imagined you would ever leave him, but he felt naive for doubting your pain, doubting your limits.

He broke your heart, and he was determined to fix it, no matter what it took.

Steve’s first thought was to reach for the phone and dial Nancy and Jonathan’s home phone. But he hesitated once he pulled it off the receiver, realizing you might need space before talking to him. This was still fresh, the wound was open and bloody and he didn’t want to worsen it by acting out in the heat of the moment.

He fought a mental battle in his head, part of him wanting to respect the boundary you have given him, but another part wanting to just hear your voice.

He sat down on the dining table chair, elbows resting on his knees as his hands held his face. He felt like the ground was falling apart underneath him. He couldn’t lose you and he sure wasn’t going to give up fixing what he caused.

He loved you.

So much.

And he hated that you didn’t believe him, because of his own stupid behavior. You were his reason for getting up everyday and making the best of his life. He had you to look forward to being at his side along the way. And now he risked losing that forever. 

He always told himself he met you at a time in his life when he needed you most. 

༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻

1987

Working at Family Video felt like he was at a dead end. Yeah, he got to work there alongside Robin, but he always wanted bigger things for himself. His dad didn’t help with the pressure, always asking him during holidays when he was going to get his life together and get an “actual” career. He never felt like he was taken seriously by his dad, and his mom didn’t bother having an opinion that countered her husband’s. 

And then you showed up, and continued to show up, and Steve felt like it was a sign. He remembered you from school but you were always quiet, not really interacting with anyone besides the few friends you had. Steve was doing his own thing as Hawkins star basketball player and you were on the outskirts of the school class hierarchy. But then you became a regular at Family Video, showing up once a week to rent a movie.

After your sixth weekly visit, Steve finally gained the courage to give you a movie recommendation himself.

“Have you seen Can’t Buy Me Love,” Steve quipped behind you as you were scouring an aisle for a new movie.

His arrival startled you, a sudden gasp emitting from your lips, your hand reaching up towards your chest to your heart. You turned to face him, your eyes wide in shock.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” Steve chuckled beside you.

You laughed at your own reaction, shaking your head.

“No, you’re fine. I was in my own little world for a second. But no, I haven’t seen that yet. Is it any good?”

“I haven’t seen it, no,” Steve said, shaking his head, a strand of his hair falling over his forehead, “but my friend Robin says it’s pretty good. I think it’s a chick-flick, though, so not my usual go-to for a movie.”

“So, you’re recommending a movie you haven’t seen yet,” you questioned, your eyebrows quirking up.

Steve’s mouth opened and closed like a fish, not having a smart comment to make back.

“I’m just messing with you,” a smirk appearing on your face, “but I’m counting on this friend of yours to know what they’re talking about. Five dollar rentals aren’t cheap, ya know.”

You made your way around Steve, walking out of the cramped aisle.

“The movie’s on me.”

Your head shot up while you made your way to the checkout counter, rummaging through your bag for your wallet.  Your eyebrows were scrunched together in confusion.

“I can’t let you do that. I can pay, seriously.”

“No, it’s fine, I can use my discount.”

“I don’t want you getting in trouble, honestly. I can pay for the-”

“How about you pay me back by going on a date with me?”

Your mouth was left agape, genuinely at a loss for words. You couldn’t believe it. The Steve Harrington was asking you out on a date. The same Steve Harrington who was the most popular guy in school who paid you no mind since you’ve known each other. You stared at him like a gaping fish.

Steve’s smile dropped slowly, hesitation replacing it.

“Or I mean no date is good, too!” He tried to play it off innocently. “Sorry, that was too forward, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfort-”

“Yes!” you interrupted, sounding a little too enthusiastic once the word left your mouth.

“I mean, no, it wasn’t too forward and yes, I’d love to go on a date with you.” You rambled, feeling like you were tripping over your words and embarrassing yourself even more. “I’m sorry, I’m probably making this worse,” you said, giggling slightly, turning your face away to hide the obvious heat flushing your face.

“No, no, you’re okay,” Steve said, chuckling. He was finding your reaction to be the cutest thing he’s ever seen. He was honestly in awe of everything about you at that moment, even if all he knew was surface level.

“So, yes to the date?”

You looked back up at him, trying to hold the shit-eating grin from appearing fully on your face.

“Yes,” you nodded, “yes to the date.”

Steve perked up, grinning so wide, his cheeks began to ache.

“Awesome! I mean,” he cleared his throat, trying to act cool and collected. “Yeah, sounds good. Let me write down my number for you.”

Steve turned around to grab a pen and paper, quickly jotting down his landline number on a piece of receipt paper he quickly fed from the machine. You watched his movements careful, your cheeks aching from smiling. He handed you the paper, looking at it before tucking it into your back pocket.

You turned around to leave, before stopping and turning back around towards him.

“Actually, did you maybe want to watch this movie with me? Tonight, maybe,” you asked, your voice quiet like you were trying to be careful not to make more of a fool of yourself. 

“Tonight! Yes, yes I can do tonight!.”

You giggled at Steve’s excitement. You’ve never had anyone- much less a guy- look so excited to be offered the opportunity to spend time with you. You never did get around to dating much in school, too focused on getting it all over and done with.

You grabbed the same pen he used previously and another piece of receipt paper to write down your address. You were starting to be happy that your parents were out of town this weekend, having at first feeling disappointed at the idea of being home alone. But now you were given the chance to spend it with someone else, someone willing to fill your empty home with some company.

You placed the paper down on the counter, gave Steve a sweet smile, and walked out, movie in hand.

Steve stared at your address like he found a pot of gold. He continued to check the clock every minute, waiting for the end of his shift to near. It felt like an eternity had gone by once it hit 9:00PM.

Waiting at home, you paced anxiously up and down the hallway of your home, peeking out of the living room window curtain to see if Steve’s car had pulled up yet.

You were nervous. 

No, you were anxious. 

You had to do breathing exercises to tame your heart beating a hundred miles an hour against your chest. You were scared it was going to beat out of your chest and Steve would come inside to see your body on the ground with a heart-shaped hole through your chest. You shook the thought out of your head. Between peeking through the window and pacing back and forth endlessly, you also wouldn’t stop checking your appearance in the bathroom mirror.

You didn’t know how many times you have touched your hair in the past hour but you’re sure you just broke a world record. You changed outfits ten times before just settling with the outfit you were originally wearing. I mean, it had to be good enough for Steve to want to go on a date with you. Straightening your sweater and swatting your jeans to get rid of any possible dust or dirt every five seconds was useless. You were eventually just giving your hands something to fidget with to ease your anxiety.

You didn’t know what time Steve was going to arrive, forgetting to ask him before you left. You didn’t even ask him what snacks or drinks he liked.

What if he doesn’t like soda? Maybe water? No water is too boring. Soda should be fine. Shit, what if he’s expecting alcohol. I could break into dad’s liquor cabinet. No, what if they notice some of it’s gone. Okay, soda should be fine. Wait, does he like popcorn or chips? But what kind of chips? Maybe candy? But what if he has allergies?

Your mind was becoming an infinite world of anxious questioning.

It’s just a movie, stop overthinking it!

You didn’t want to make it obvious to Steve that you’ve never actually gone on a date with someone, worried you were going to make a fool of yourself in front of someone who has way more experience than you in every field imaginable. Oh god, you felt like a loser.

Half past nine, you heard the engine of a car pulling into the driveway. Immediately stopping your anxious pacing and nail picking, you ran to the living room window to see Steve’s maroon beemer. If someone else could see you, they would have said you looked like you’d seen Madonna.

Seeing him get out of the car, you scrambled away so you didn’t make more of a fool of yourself with the possibility of him seeing you sticking your neck out through the curtains like a child waiting to spot Santa Clause on Christmas.

Steve knocked on the front door three times, this being your cue to act calm and collected for once.

You ran your hands over your hair one more time for good measure, fixing any loose strays, before opening the door to a smiling Steve. You looked down to see a bouquet of tulips in his hands.

Steve followed the direction of your eyes, realizing what you were looking at.

“Oh! Hi, these are for you,” he reached his hand out holding the flowers to hand them to you. He watched as you grabbed them, a smile slowly gracing your face in admiration.

You looked back up at him, biting the inside of your bottom lip to stop yourself from smiling too wide- your attempt at being nonchalant. When have you ever been nonchalant about anything?

“Thank you so much, but you didn’t have to get me anything,” you said, looking up at him.

“I know but I wanted to.,” he said, smiling gently.

“Well, this is my house. Well, technically it’s my parents house, I definitely don’t own it. I mean obviously I wouldn’t own it, hah, that’s so funny, I’m going to be quiet now before I talk your head off,” you rambled on, awkwardly laughing it off. 

You stood back to let Steve inside, walking in behind him. You could hear him chuckle, an obvious reaction to you nervously talking, hoping to fill the silence. You were either going to bore him to death with awkward silence or overwhelm him with nervous rambles. You didn’t know which was worse.

You pressed your palms to your cheeks, trying to cool down the obvious heat that rushed to your cheeks. You watched as he took in the space. Your home was simple, totally not a mansion or anything. You hoped he wasn’t judging the small space, but you trusted the possibility of this Steve being a lot nicer than “King Steve.”

“So, um…I have the movie in the VCR already. Did you want anything to drink or eat, maybe?” You words came out slow and quiet, worried you were already weirding him out and ruining the date before it even properly started.

Steve turned around, mouth still spread into an admirable smile, like he was discovering a new land and not your two-bedroom home that was almost too spotless. You knew you shouldn’t have cleaned up so much. Now it looks like no one even lives here. You mentally beat yourself up over the minute “issue”.

“That sounds great, actually. Did you need any help?”

“Oh, no, I got it. Don’t worry,” you said, already beginning to walk over to the kitchen.

“Seriously, I don’t mind,” Steve said, walking behind you leading to the kitchen.

“Well, I just have popcorn for us. Not really a two-man job to stick a bag in the microwave,” you awkwardly laughed. You reached into the pantry to grab the box of popcorn and a bowl from the dish drying rack

“Then I’ll keep you company.”

You looked up at Steve, a cheeky smirk plastered on his stupidly attractive face. You were always bad at keeping eye contact and Steve seems to be a pro at it. You looked away quickly, placing your attention to putting the bag of popcorn in the microwave, pressing the “2” and “0” twice, the microwave humming in the background.

You didn’t know what to look at, feeling Steve’s eyes on you and that stupid smile still on his stupid face. You were leaning on the kitchen counter and Steve was standing across from you, his hands leaning behind him against the counter. You darted your eyes across the floor, staring back and forth between your shoes and his.

God, you felt way in over your head.

You wish you could read his mind, just to ease your anxious thoughts and know exactly what he was thinking- what he thought about you and if he was having the worst time of his life being here with you now. He was probably laughing at you in his head, regretting even asking you out.

Pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop…

The microwave beeped, signaling it was done. You turned around, reaching up to open the microwave doors. Steve reached over to try to do the same. You turned your head to him as you both grabbed the handles, pulling it open.

Being distracted by him, you forgot to move your head out of the way, swinging the door directly on your face. You stumbled back, your hand reaching up to touch the spot you just hit. Your eyes were squeezed shut, the pain shooting through your forehead and nose.

Steve grabbed the microwave door, shutting it, directing his attention to you. He grabbed your face, holding it like it was the most fragile thing in the world.

“Oh my god, are you okay,” he asked, his eyes blown wide in shock, darting across your face. He gently moved the hand covering your face to see the damage done, you hissing in pain in the process.

“Okay, it doesn’t look too bad, but it will definitely bruise later. Do you have an ice pack anywhere,” Steve asked, walking towards the refrigerator.

Your hand went straight back to your head, trying to soothe the pain. Your eyes were still squeezed shut, knowing if you opened them, you would see stars.

“There should be a bag of peas in there,” you groaned, your teeth gritting together.

Steve walked over to you, gently grabbing your hand away and pressing the bag of frozen peas to your forehead. You hissed at the sudden cold feeling. You felt his warm hand engulfing your free hand, leading you to the living room.

“Why don’t you sit here and I’ll grab the stuff, okay? Don’t want you banging yourself up even more,” you could hear him chuckling as he walked back to the kitchen.

“Hah, hah, very funny. Almost knocked myself unconscious and you have jokes,” you said, the sarcasm oozing out of your mouth.

Steve came back with the bowl of popcorn and two sodas he grabbed from the fridge. He set the bowl and sodas on the coffee table in front, feeling the couch cushion sink under his weight and the warmth of his body radiating next to you from how close he was. You felt your heartbeat begin to speed up again, goosebumps prickling at your skin. 

First, you were already acting nervous and now you gave yourself brain damage. What’s the worst that could happen now?

You didn’t really want that answer.

“Lemme see,” Steve said, grabbing the bag of peas from your face. You peaked one eye open, immediately catching his eye.

“It’s looking better. How many fingers am I holding up,” he asks, holding up three fingers.

“I didn’t go blind,” you scoffed. Steve stubbornly waited for an actual response. “Okay, three, happy now?”

“Very. Can’t have my date dying on me before I could ask her out again.”

Your face ran hot. You wanted to wipe that stupid smirk off his face.

You wanted to kiss that stupid smirk off his face.

The thought made your stomach flip. You hoped he couldn’t read your mind.

Your hands shot up to your face, covering it. You bowed your head down, groaning into your hands. Steve’s face fell, his body straightening up like.

“Wait, what happened? Did you hit yourself that hard? Do we need to go to the hospital,” Steve’s mouth was running a mile a minute, panic in his voice.

“No,” you muffled into your hands, “I’m just really embarrassed and feel like I ruined the entire date because I don’t have any spatial awareness and now you probably think I’m weird and even more of a loser than before and you’re going to tell all of your friends how I’m still the same awkward and weird girl I was in high school and I’ll have to forever live with the fact that I fumbled the hottest guy I’ve ever met and I’m going to forever punish myself for it.”

You huffed a breath, trying to ease your heartbeat. You couldn’t see the wide smile on Steve’s face, nor the blush creeping up. He was astonished by how fast a person could talk, yes, but he was also starting to feel bashful at the thought of you thinking he was the “hottest guy” you’ve ever met. 

The silence was killing you. If you couldn’t have felt him next to you, you would have thought he fled the house at how ridiculous you were being. You peaked between your fingers, Steve’s face spread into a crooked smile, wide-eyed.

You moved your hands down your face slowly, waiting for a response from him.

“You think I’m the hottest guy ever?”

You reached behind you to grab a pillow from the couch, hitting him across the shoulder with it.

“Ow,” Steve said, laughing, “what was that for?”

“I ran my mouth like it was a freight train and the only thing you got from it was that I think you’re hot?”

“Yeah, because everything else was a lie. I’ve only been here for 15 minutes and this is probably the best date I’ve ever been on,” he said, still laughing. 

You stared at him like he was speaking in hieroglyphics. 

“You’re insane.”

“Maybe, but I’m still having a good time. So what you banged your pretty head up? As long as you don’t have brain damage, we can still watch the movie.”

You then stared at him like he was a runaway from an insane asylum.

“You think I’m pretty,” you asked shyly, wanting to cover your face back up with your hands and sink into the couch cushions, becoming one with the dust bunnies.

Steve leaned over towards you a little, only a few inches from your face, admiring your features. It was like he was examining each individual atom that made up your face. 

“I think you’re very pretty, honey.”

You bit back a smile, your face feeling like it was a billion degrees hotter than before.

Steve’s eyes were darting from both of your eyes to your lips, doing a once over before landing back to your eyes. You’ve never held eye contact with someone for so long until now. You were going to have to get used to it with him.

“I’m gonna start the movie,” you whispered.

“Sounds good,” Steve whispered back, the tension palpable.

You got up from the couch, walking timidly to the VCR player. Your heart was thump, thump, thumping in your chest. It was almost loud enough for Steve to hear. You bent down, pressing play on the VCR, before shuffling back to the couch next to Steve. You were pressed against the armrest, arms crossed around your stomach, creating a few inches of space between the two of you. However, you were still close enough to Steve, the two-seater couch being too small to create even a foot of distance. You could feel the heat of his body radiating towards you.

The sound of the movie previews played in the background, you keeping your attention to the screen. You could feel Steve’s eyes glancing back and forth from the TV to the side of your face. Your heart began to beat faster, the nerves getting to you more and more. You uncrossed your arms, letting your left arm lay across the armrest and your other arm lay at your side, resting on the edge of your couch cushion. 

You could see Steve through your peripheral vision, spotting his hand move from his lap to the side of the couch cushion. Your fingers were inches apart. One twitch and you would be touching fingertips. The sound of “Can’t Buy Me Love” by The Beatles blared from the speakers, a young Patrick Dempsey riding on a lawnmower appearing onscreen. 

Steve cleared his throat, shifting on the couch. The tips of his fingers caressed yours, sending goosebumps up your arm immediately. You took a deep breath, expecting him to pull back. 

He didn’t.

Staying in that position, hands barely touching, you moved your eyes from the television down to your hands, head barely moving. Steve noticed. You caught his head snapping straight to your hands, the same dumb smirk on his face that you are convinced is a permanent feature on his face now. You quickly glanced up at him, making eye contact, before quickly snapping your eyes back to the movie.

You wanted to smack some sense into yourself at this very moment to get yourself to stop acting so shy. You felt like a little girl who just received her first compliment from another boy. Being this inexperienced at 20 years old felt like a hindrance. You were on the completely opposite side of the spectrum as Steve. 

You tried to loosen up, moving your arm away from the armrest, shuffling your weight on the cushion. You reached over to the bowl of popcorn sitting untouched on the coffee table, bringing it into your lap.

“You want some,” you asked timidly, offering the bowl to Steve.

“Sure,” he said, scooting closer to you.

Steve’s leg was squished next to yours, letting the bowl rest between his and your legs. His arm was nestled against yours, skin brushing every time one of you reached into the popcorn bowl.

As the movie played, you or Steve quipped up with a comment about the drama happening in the movie, you finally slowly coming out of your shell, giving him a sneak peak inside your mind.

“Some of these actors don’t even look like they’re in high school,” you pointed out, earning a laugh from Steve.

“What the hell even is a Columbus Day dance,” Steve asked, laughing as he asked it. You giggled in response.

Eventually, the empty popcorn was tossed to the side, both of you propping your shoeless feet on top of the table, bodies glued to each other’s sides. You fought the urge to lean your head on Steve’s shoulder, but too scared you were going too fast and crossing a boundary. You didn’t want to make a move and embarrass yourself. You were terrified the entire night of embarrassing yourself.

When the movie ended, you got up towards the VCR, rewinding the tape before slotting it back into its case. 

Steve leaned into the couch, feet moving off of the table. He glanced up at you, staring as you set the tape down on top of the box TV.

“That actually was a really good movie. Maybe you are good at your job,” you said, a snarky undertone in your words. You looked back to him, seeing his face morph from a smile to shock, mouth agape.

“Excuse me, I am very good at my job,” Steve replied, hand across his chest feigning shock.

“Whatever you say,” your hands up in surrender, “I might need another movie rec as more proof.”

“I can make that happen,” Steve replied, the corner of his lips turning upwards.

You smiled to yourself, huffing a laugh under your breath. You watched as Steve got up from the couch, grabbing the empty popcorn bowl and putting the soda cans into it.

“Here, let me help you clean up.”

“Oh, no, you don’t have to do that. Can’t have my guest doing the dirty work,” you said, attempting to grab the bowl from his hands, watching as he moved it away from your reach.

“No, no, I insist. I have to repay you back for the hospitality somehow.”

“I think you helping me recover from an almost concussion is good enough repayment,” you quirked your eyebrows at him, crossing your arms.

“Maybe I’m just finding an excuse to spend a couple more minutes with you.”

A pregnant pause fell between you, your brain backfiring before scrambling to find a retort.

“I-...okay, fine,” you stuttered, your arms falling to your sides.

You followed behind him as he walked to the kitchen. You grabbed the soda cans from the bowl, throwing them away into the trash can. You watched as he quickly washed the bowl in the sink, standing behind him.

In the few seconds it took for him to scrub the popcorn butter from the inside of the bowl, your eyes raked from his hair down to the back of his jeans.

Your eyes were glued to his ass. Your mouth fell slightly open, eyes concentrated on the tightness of his jeans.

Jesus Christ, did it always look this good?

Steve turned around to face you, your eyes immediately snapping back up. You hoped you played it off well enough so he didn’t notice that you were definitely staring at his ass. 

He smirked.

Again.

He definitely noticed.

You cleared your throat, scratching the back of your neck, refusing to make eye contact to prevent even more embarrassment.

“Thanks for cleaning up. You didn’t have to but-”

“I wanted to,” Steve interrupted.

You suck your bottom lip between your teeth before releasing it.

“Thank you. Still,” you paused, however this time the silence falling between you wasn’t uncomfortable. It felt welcomed.

“I can walk you out,” you said.

“I’d like that, thank you,” Steve replied, a fond smile on his face.

He followed behind you as you walked to the front door, walking outside towards the beemer in the driveway.

His keys jingled as he grabbed them out of his pocket, planting his feet by the driver’s side door. Your hands were clasped behind your back, not knowing what to do with them. You stood in front of him, raking your eyes across the maroon car.

“I had a really good time,” Steve said.

“Even though you had to play nurse for the first half?”

Steve laughed, snorting a little bit. That earned a laugh from you, the sound catching you off guard. You didn’t expect Steve Harrington to be the type to snort when he laughed, like it was characteristic he was “too perfect” to have. God, you wish you didn’t already have him on a pedestal. He’s just a guy.

“Hey, I think my efforts saved your life,” Steve said, putting his hands up in surrender.

“If you count putting a frozen bag of peas to my head as ‘lifesaving efforts,’ then thank you very much,” you said, huffing a laugh, “Wouldn’t be alive without my knight in shining armor.”

You bit your bottom lip, directing your eyes to the concrete driveway, not brave enough to see the effect of your poor excuse of flirting. It was worth a shot, you thought.

Steve quietly chuckled, and you thought you would never get tired of the sound. You wanted to record his different laughs on a mixtape, just to listen to when he wasn’t around…is that weird?

The sound of crickets and a neighbor's dog barking at passing cars bled through the quiet of the night. You willed yourself to look back up at Steve, him already looking at you catching you off guard. Neither of you said anything, just looked into each other’s eyes. You took the time to really look at Steve’s eyes, noticing that his eyes weren’t actually brown, but hazel. The nearby streetlamps enhancing the brown, gold, green hues in his eyes.

His eyes are so big, you thought.

You began to wonder what he was thinking about. If he really did enjoy tonight, if he wanted to see you again, if he was weirded out by you, if he was just being nice to not hurt your feelings, if he liked you. Your mind was moving at high speeds. You wondered if it was obvious you were overthinking, if your eyes were exposing your secrets.

You watched as Steve’s eyes flicked from your eyes to your lips, moving back to your eyes within a millisecond. Your heart skipped a beat. Almost like the both of you were magnets, pulling towards each other, you felt yourself leaning closer towards him.

You were close enough to feel his breath on your face, eyes still locked on to each other. It felt like you were in your own world for a second, the sounds of outside turning off and all you could hear was your heartbeat.

“I really want to kiss you right now,” Steve said under his breath, barely above a whisper. Just loud enough for only you to hear.

You shuddered a breath, a shiver running down your spine. Your eyes flicked back and forth between his eyes, trying to force a response out of your mouth to not leave him hanging. 

It’s time to suck it up, buttercup, and make a move!

“Good thing I really want you to kiss me, then,” you replied, using his own words back to him, your mind backfiring on you to think of anything clever.

Steve’s breath hitched, his hand moving slowly up your arm to the nape of your neck where his hand cradled the back of your head. The feeling made goosebumps spread down your arms as your hands reached for his shirt, planting them to the front of it for stability. 

Steve’s lips met yours, a gentle kiss pressed to your lips. You thought your legs were going to give out from under you, leaning into his body as you deepened the kiss. Steve’s hands moved to cradle your face while your fingers began digging into his shirt as you gripped it. Your lips moved in sync as if you were performing a choreographed routine you both had practiced beforehand.

You pulled back, the air between you mixing together as you both tried to catch your breath. Your fingers still gripping Steve’s shirt, you slowly removed them, hands gliding down his chest back to your sides. Steve’s hands moved to your waist as he stared into your eyes, his chest moving up and down trying to calm down his breathing.

“I meant it when I said this was the best date I’ve ever been on,” Steve said, pausing before finishing his thought, “I really want to see you again, if that’s okay.”

You tried to bite back the smile that forced its way through, your attempt at nonchalance. You tried and failed.

“I’d like that…to see you again, I mean,” you quipped, the excitement obvious in your tone, “ugh, I feel like I’m embarrassing myself more and more as the night goes on.”

You covered your face with your hands, wanting to sink into the ground to hide your embarrassment. Be cool, be cool, be cool.

Steve grabbed your wrists, pulling your hands away from your face.

“You’re cute,” he said, a cheeky grin on his face, “and definitely not embarrassing yourself. I promise.”

You were trying to decipher the way Steve was looking at you. If you could read his mind, you would see that he was staring at you like you hung the stars and moon in that very moment. He was enamored. And he also felt like he was in deep when it came to you, even after just one date. It was everything he was hoping it would be and more.

Steve let go of your hands, fishing his keys back out of his pocket that he quickly shoved in so he could kiss you without interruption. This was your cue to take a step back, your hands clasped in front of you, fiddling your fingers.

You watched as he slid into the driver's seat, closing the door, before rolling down the window.

“Are you doing anything tomorrow night,” Steve asked, sticking his head out of the window.

“No,” you replied, curious why he’s asking.

“Good. I’ll call you when I get off of work,” Steve said smiling. “That’s okay, right?”

You giggled at his way of asking for reassurance, nodding your head.

“Yeah, yeah that’s okay. I’ll be here.”

“Perfect, I’ll be looking forward to it. Goodnight, honey.”

Honey.

That petname again.

You don’t think you could ever get tired of hearing Steve calling you that.

“Goodnight, Steve,” you said, walking back to the front door, and walking inside.

You peaked out of the living room window, spotting Steve as he pulled out of your driveway and drove down the street. He waited until you got inside before leaving.

You went to bed that night with a permanent smile on your face. It took you forever to go to sleep, the entire night running through your mind like a movie you’ve memorized. 

༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻

Present Day, Tuesday Night

That was the start of your relationship. You were both so giddy like school kids, experiencing feelings that neither of you had really felt with anyone else, especially Steve. The next three years went by so fast. You were both so happy and in love. Rarely fighting, rarely bickering. Your family and friends viewed the two of you as the perfect couple, with many hoping you would eventually move onto the next step and get married. You couldn’t imagine being with anyone else. You almost wanted to write a letter to the founder of Family Video just as a thank you for making the company in the first place because without it, you don’t know if you would have ever been with Steve in the first place. He was your favorite person, your best friend. 

And now, as you stared at Nancy Wheeler and Jonathan Byers’s ceiling in their living room- back laid against their couch- you wondered if it was too late to get back to those happy times.

Get back to when you felt Steve’s love. Get back to how unconditional and confident it felt.

You haven’t had a good night’s rest since you left. It’s been years since you slept alone, having gotten used to having Steve’s body laid next to yours, only a few inches away if he wasn’t cuddled up next to you. It felt colder being by yourself. It didn’t help that this was the most uncomfortable couch you’ve ever had to lay on, but you dealt with what you were given. You were grateful either way. You were grateful for Nancy to even allow you to stay here and take up the space that you’re sure Jonathan and her are used to having to themselves. You were sure Nancy understood where you were coming from- at least a little- having dated Steve before, too.

Did she have to deal with this, too? Was she jealous of other girls, worried he wanted someone better deep down?

You wanted to confide in her, ask her about if she had the same worries at the time. You knew you were better off, though. It was years ago when they dated, too. Nancy always said Steve was a lot different now than he was then. But how different?

You decided to get up from the couch, making your way to the small kitchen. You grabbed yourself a glass of water, trying to be as quiet as possible to not wake anyone up. It seems Nancy might have super hearing, walking out of her and Jonathan’s bedroom to see what you were doing.

“Hey, you okay?”

“Shit, Nancy,” you whisper-shouted, startled by her natural skill of sneaking up on people. You spilled some of the water in your cup in the process, setting it back down in the sink.

“I need you to start making sound when you walk or you’re going to give me a heart attack one day,” you said, laughing under your breath.

“Sorry, I just wanted to check up on you.”

You leaned back against the counter, feet crossed in front of each other. You took a deep breath before opening your mouth, closing it right back, thinking about what your next words were going to be.

“I just can’t sleep. I haven’t been able to sleep since I got here. I just-,” you paused, “my mind won’t stop thinking. I have so many questions and I’m just…scared to ask them. I’m scared of the answers.”

Nancy looked at you with concern in her eyes, her eyebrows scrunched together. You kept your focus on the light the moon casted on the linoleum floor.

“What questions did you have? I’m sure getting them out of your system might help,” Nancy said, walking over to stand across from you. 

She’s been worried about you ever since you called and asked if you could stay over for a couple of days. You gave her the rundown of everything that had happened within the past couple of months and she completely understood where you were coming from. But she also told you you were going to have to talk to Steve eventually. She hadn’t mentioned that he’s called the local newspaper’s number to ask Nancy about you everyday since.

༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻

Tuesday Morning

Nancy was sitting at her desk, editing an obituary article her boss asked her to finish up by the end of the day. Her desk phone began to ring, knowing immediately it was Steve. He called multiple times yesterday and the day before and the day before. She expected him to call again, today.

“Steve, you can’t keep calling me at work like this. You’re going to get me in trouble,” Nancy said in the receiver, voice low so her boss didn’t hear her. She looked around to make sure he wasn’t pacing the room like he usually does when he’s out of his office.

“I know, I know, I just want to know if she’s okay. She won’t even look at me at work.”

Steve sounded defeated. Nancy knew he was calling in between his classes, his only available time to call since he wasn’t allowed to call her home number, where you might overhear.

“She’s doing as okay as she can be, right now, Steve. You just need to give her time. It hasn’t even been a full week yet. She’ll come around.”

“I fucked up, Nance. I fucked up so bad and I don’t-,” Steve’s voice broke, his breath shuddering, “I can’t lose her, Nance. I will never forgive myself if I have to live my life without her.”

Nancy was at a loss for words. She was put in the middle of two heartbroken and distraught individuals, and she wasn’t sure she had all of the answers they were looking for.

“Just give her time, Steve. She loves you. A lot. But you broke her heart and it’s going to take some time for her to be okay again. I mean, if Jonathan had girls all over him constantly, I would be a little upset, too. Hell, Steve,” Nancy hunched down into her cubicle, whispering to avoid anyone overhearing, “if he agreed to someone saying I gained weight, Joyce would kill him.”

Steve froze on the other end. Hearing it from Nancy, he still didn’t know what she was talking about. He never got the chance to ask you about it. He was only left in an air of confusion, his memory failing him.

“Nance, I really don’t know where that’s coming from. I don’t recall doing that and you of all people know I would never say that about someone, especially her.”

Nancy’s eyebrows scrunched at his statement. “What are you talking about? The class reunion you guys went to? Laurie Sullivan?”

“Nancy, I’m serious, I don’t know what you are talking about. She mentioned it once while we were fighting and then didn’t bring it up after. What did she say happened?” Steve’s voice was frantic. He felt like he was in an interrogation and his life was on the line- his life being you.

Nancy took a deep breath, sitting up straight in her seat, not caring anymore if her boss sees her. “From what she told me, Laurie mentioned how she assumed you two had kids already because it looked like she gained weight. She told me you said ‘yeah’ before you guys walked off.”

Steve went still. He replayed the night in his head, feeling like an idiot for brushing that off.

“Steve, are you still there?’ Nancy was making sure Steve didn’t drop dead, with the only sound on the other end of the phone being white noise.

“Yeah, yeah I’m here.” Steve said, sounding distressed. “Nance, I didn’t mean it like that. I didn’t mean for it to sound like I was calling her- oh my god, I’m so fucking stupid. She was acting weird the rest of the night, too. Fuck! It’s a misunderstanding, Nancy, please believe me.”

Nancy was wide-eyed, taking in the new information. “What did you mean by that then, Steve? From what I was told, it sounded bad.”

“I know, I know but that’s not what I meant. I was barely even paying attention to what Laurie was saying at that point. My mind was on getting out of the conversation and trying to leave. I didn’t even want to talk to her in the first place.” Steve’s head was in his hands. He felt helpless. “What do I do, Nance?”

“You need to talk to her. I’ve told her she can’t avoid you forever but I also understand where she’s coming from. I know it’s a misunderstanding but she’s still hurt by the other stuff, too, Steve.”

“Is there any way you could convince her to let me call her atleast?”

“Steve, I don’t kno-”

“Please, Nancy, please,” Steve said with desperation, “I just want to hear her voice.”

Steve’s hand was covering his eyes, trying to stop the tears from falling down his face. He didn’t need his students asking why Coach Steve looked like he just watched All Dogs Go To Heaven for the first time and got to the end scene.

Nancy hesitated, silence on the other end of the phone.

“I’ll talk to her,” Nancy said, hearing Steve breathe a sigh of relief, “but I can’t make any promises. If she says no, she says no, Steve. You can’t force her. You know how she is.”

“I know. She’s always been very headstrong. I love that about her. Can I call tomorrow, maybe?”

“We’ll see. I’ll talk to you later, Steve. Just give her time.”

“Okay…talk to you later, Nance.”

༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻

Tuesday Night

Your mind rummaged through all of the possible questions you had. For Steve, for Nancy, for yourself. Questions you weren’t sure you even wanted the answers to, fearing they would prove you right. You wanted to be wrong. You were thinking the worst of it all and you wanted them to prove you wrong, make yourself believe you were just overthinking and it all just led to insecurities instead.

You looked up at Nancy, mouth opening and closing in hesitation.

“Did you ever…,” you paused, wanting to get the words right, “were you ever insecure about other girls when you were with Steve?”

Your words came out slow, like the words were foreign in your mouth. You looked away from Nancy, feeling like a bug under a microscope.

“Oh…um, well, maybe sometimes, but not really. Steve always got that kind of attention from other girls but I never doubted that he loved me. I think he was really just clueless about it.,” Nancy said, then snorted at a thought,” Honestly, I think he was so infatuated with me, the idea of other girls hitting on him didn’t even come to mind. He didn’t really take notice of it from what I remember.”

You didn’t realize you were holding your breath until you exhaled. Her answer gave you some hope. But another part of you was telling yourself that people can change a lot within a matter of years. And it had been years since Nancy and Steve dated. You wanted to trust her answer, but you were filled with so much doubt. 

Nancy must have seen your face change from hopefulness to doubt. She reached across, grabbing your hand and squeezing it. Her way of telling you ‘it’s okay’.

“Hey…Steve would have to be the stupidest guy to hurt you on purpose. From the outside looking in, I truly believe he only has eyes for you. I know you’ve been overthinking everything the last couple months, but I think you really need to give him the chance to explain his way out of it, just to hear what he has to say. He loves you, babe. I don’t even think he loved me that much,” Nancy said, smiling at the last part.

You looked at her, searching her face for a sign of her lying to you. You couldn’t find it, but you also know deep down, Nancy would never lie to you like that.

You weakly smiled, it not quite reaching your eyes.

“Thank you, Nance,” you said, nodding your head.

Nancy squeezed your hand one last time before letting it go. You watched as she went back to her room, leaving you standing there to ruminate her answer. 

༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻

Wednesday Morning

You slept on it that night, waking up with the worst headache due to depriving yourself of sleep for the past couple of days. There wasn’t enough coffee in the world that would remove the bags under your eyes or recover the years off your life that you’ve most definitely lost with the couple hours of sleep you’ve been surviving off of.

Getting ready for work the next day went along the same routine you’ve had since you left: agonizing, exhausting, and a chore. You’ve done the bare minimum to get ready, skipping doing anything to your hair or putting makeup on. You didn’t necessarily do a lot to your face, but made sure you didn’t look like the Cryptkeeper every morning. However, the bags under your eyes have become more noticeable, and you’ve resorted to doing the least work to tame your hair.

You arrived at the middle school around 6:30, giving you about an hour to prep your class and set out any remaining clay projects that your students need to finish glazing. A mug, a bowl in the shape of a flower, and many clay pendants were placed on their specific students’ assigned seats. You were keeping track of the time, waiting for the clock to strike 7:15, giving you 15 minutes to go to the teachers’ lounge and grab you a cup of coffee.

Also to be able to avoid running into Steve.

You remembered like the back of your hand that Steve got to school at the same time as you, heading to the teachers’ lounge for coffee, and leaving for his classroom at 7:00. You gave yourself enough time to make sure he was settled in his classroom before walking to the lounge. 

Deep down, you felt like a coward. You knew you couldn’t- shouldn’t- avoid him forever. But the confrontation scared you. You were stuck in a limbo that you were too afraid to get out of due to the risk of being sent to either heaven or hell. 

Walking to the lounge, you approached the door before turning around at the sound of your name being called by a student.

“Miss Y/L/N!”

The young girl quickly walked over to you, huffing and puffing like she had been running through the hallways just to find you.

“Cassidy, hi! What’s up,” you said, standing in front of the teachers’ lounge door.

“I know it’s last minute and our projects are due Friday, but is there any way I can start over and do something else? I don’t like how mine is turning out and I have something else I’d like to do,” the young girl said, her words coming out fast.

You looked at the clock on the wall across from you, keeping track of the time. You desperately needed coffee, not believing you could survive an entire eight hour work day without some kind of caffeine.

“Uh…I don’t know, Cassidy. It’s already Wednesday. Do you think you could finish something today in class? I need enough time to fire it in the kiln so you can have enough time to glaze it and have me fire it in the kiln again tomorrow.”

You watched the young girl as she thought to herself, her eyes looking up at the ceiling deep in thought.

Before her words could come out of her mouth, the door opened up behind you. You turned around to move out of the way with no luck. Whoever was walking out was still deep in conversation with another teacher, head tilted back laughing at whatever joke someone could find so funny at this time of day. Not paying attention, their mug of warm coffee hit your chest, spilling the warm liquid all over your dress.

You jerked back, gasping at the feeling, looking down at the brown stain slowly spreading as it soaked into the fabric. You watched as it dripped onto the floor, brown droplets spreading on the tile.

You looked up to see who the culprit was, only for you to make eye contact with Steve.

Just my luck.

“Crap- I mean,” Steve said, attempting to correct himself as he realized a student was in front of him, “shoot. I didn’t see you standing there, I’m so sorry. Lemme help you clean up. God, I’m so sorry, honey, I really wasn’t paying attention.”

Your eyes shot up at the nickname, hands freezing in position as you stopped trying to wring out the excess coffee from your dress.

“It’s fine, I got it-”

“No, really, this was my fault, I was distract-”

“Steve, I said it’s fine.”

You looked into Steve’s eyes, trying to put your foot down. This wasn’t how you planned your day to go. You actually planned it to not go like this. Strictly planned it, in fact. Punctually planned.

You turned to the young girl still standing beside you, waiting for approval of her request.

“Cassidy, I’ll let you do a new project, but,” you raised a pointed finger to emphasize your point, “you have to finish it in class today. If you can’t finish it, then I’ll have to ask you to finish your original idea instead, okay?”

You watched as the young girl awkwardly looked between you and Steve, trying to decipher what was going on between you two. It wasn’t unknown amongst the school that the two of you were together. It was just unknown that you were having issues. You didn’t need everyone having access to your dirty laundry.

The young girl gave a wide smile before turning around, scurrying to her homeroom class. You took a deep breath before turning back around to Steve. He looked like a puppy who just got scolded for chewing up someone’s shoes.

“I have extra clothes in my classroom. I’ll be fine, Steve. Thank you, though,” you gave a meek smile before turning around to walk back to your class.

Steve reached over to grab your wrist, stopping you in your tracks.

“Please, wait.”

“Steve,” you protested quietly, turning around to face him. A knot was beginning to grow in your throat. 

You tried to swallow it back down, not wanting to cry at school. Kids can be nosy. You didn’t need twelve year-olds prying into your love life.

“I miss you,” Steve said, voice cracking in the process.

You looked away, knowing you would start crying if you looked into his eyes. The same hazel eyes you fell in love with. You think you fell in love with him that first night you really looked into them. They always had a way of making you fall back into him. 

“Steve, please, don’t do this here. We’re at school,” you said, shaking your head.

“I just want to talk to you, honey. I miss your voice. I miss your face. I miss you,” Steve swallowed hard, trying to prevent his words from coming out as sobs, “Just talk to me. Please.”

You looked up at Steve, seeing his eyes glisten with tears threatening to spill. Your lips were downturned, your deep sadness on display like a zoo animal. You sighed deeply, thinking about your options. You thought about Nancy’s advice, but you really thought about what you wanted the most that you’ve been forcing yourself to ignore. 

You wanted Steve.

You really missed him, but you couldn’t ignore the hurt you felt at the same time. You were scared he couldn’t make the promises you needed. You couldn’t stand the idea of tolerating feeling like you being put on the backburner, that you were safe and he only settled with you.

“Okay, we can talk. But not here.”

You watched as Steve exhaled deeply, like he was holding his breath.

“Okay, okay that works. I can meet you after school.”

“I’ll just meet you at the house. If that’s okay,” you said, hesitating in between your words. 

Steve beamed at your answer. He let go of your wrist, nodding his head eagerly.

“Yes, of course that’s okay. It’s your home, too, honey.”

“This doesn’t mean I’m staying, Steve. It just means we’re talking,” you stated, hoping he understands where you’re coming from.

You watched as Steve’s suddenly straightened posture fell, his demeanor faltering.

“Okay, I can-,” Steve paused, swallowing the lump in his throat, “-I can work with that.”

The school bell rang through the speakers, indicating class had started. You looked at the clock hanging on the wall above you, seeing the time at 7:30.

“Shit,” you muttered under your breath, “I gotta go.”

“Yeah, me too,” Steve murmured.

Before walking off to your class, you turned back around to face Steve. “I’ll see you at home, okay?”

Steve nodded. “Okay.” He gave a quick smile, it falling as soon as you turned around, walking away from him.

༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻

Wednesday Afternoon

As you sat in your car, you mentally prepared for what was to come once you pulled into the driveway, entered your home- you and Steve’s home- and talked to Steve. Your mind raced with the possibilities of how your conversation could go.

 You were nervous.

 So, so nervous.

You tried to fight the urge to pick at your fingernails, not wanting to have to worry about cleaning them and definitely not have Steve worry. You didn’t want him to see how bad you’re doing. But you were kidding yourself. The way you have been coming to school would be evidence enough to show how miserable you have been feeling. You thought you were stronger than this. You had hoped you were. You felt like you were proving yourself wrong and you hated yourself for it. You felt things so strongly and it felt like a flaw more than a strength.

One major inconvenience for this mess was the fact that you had to start biking to and from work. You and Steve didn’t have to worry about needing two cars, especially when it came to going to work. No car meant figuring out your own mode of transportation since you couldn’t bear the thought of relying on Jonathan or Nancy to drive you to work everyday. They were already giving you their home- you didn’t want to be more of a hassle.

The bike ride was calm, giving you time to clear your thoughts and ease your emotions. Arriving at the house, Steve’s car was already pulled into the driveway. You sat your bike on the side of the house in front of his beemer. You hesitantly walked to the front door, contemplating whether you should knock or just walk in.

It’s technically my home, too, so should I just walk in?

No, I can’t do that, I should knock. I’m a guest right?

Why would I be a guest in my own home? Just walk inside.

Before you grabbed the door handle, the door opened, with Steve staring at you like he could hear your thoughts himself. 

You swallowed, awkwardly looking around like you were caught doing something you shouldn’t. Your cheeks felt hot from the embarrassment of having been seen just standing there, doing nothing. You’ve been told your face shows what you’re thinking. You don’t know how true that is but you’re hoping it’s not or else Steve can see how panicked and embarrassed you are inside.

“Hi.” Steve looked at you inquisitively.

“Hi,” you said sheepishly, waiting to be invited in.

“Oh, come in,” Steve stepped aside and let you walk inside. You looked around, seeing the house look almost untouched, unlived in. You wondered if Steve even did anything when he was home since you’ve left. It looked like the place hadn’t been touched since then. Desolate, deserted, empty, haunted.

You stood by the couch, shifting your weight on your feet. You felt yourself start to pick at your fingers, quickly tucking them behind your back hoping Steve didn’t notice. His eyes flicked to it quickly, eyebrows scrunching. He knew. 

“So-”

“I called Nancy the other day,” Steve interrupted. You stared at him, eyes wide with this new information.

“Oh? I didn’t know that. She never mentioned it.” You were squeezing your hands behind your back, a dull ache blooming in your joints.

“Yeah,” Steve scratched at the back of his neck, a nervous tick you’ve grown familiar with ever since you met. “I wanted to see how you were doing and she kind of explained something to me. Something I should’ve caught on to but I’m just-”

Steve paused, looking away and scattering his eyes across the room. He looked like he wanted to crawl into a hole, he felt so ashamed.

“I’m an idiot, honey. I’m-” Steve brought his hands down his face. “-She told me more about that night. The reunion. And what Laurie said. And then what I said.”

Your hands still, bringing them back around slowly, wrapping your arms around your torso. The memories of that night rang through your head, the sound of Laurie’s voice shrilling in your ears. You looked away from Steve, biting the inside of your cheek.

Steve took a few steps towards you, planting himself in front of you, only a few inches away but not close enough where you could feel him and his body heat radiating off of him.

“I know how it sounded. Shit, honey, if I were you, I would have thought the same thing, but I didn’t mean it that way. I promise.”

You watched as Steve recounted the events of that night, telling you what Nancy told him, what actually happened, what he meant by his words that had cut you in half when he uttered them. You stood there at a loss for words, feeling like an idiot. The voice in your head telling you you should’ve just talked to him that night, and maybe this wouldn’t have blown over as it has.

Steve walked a few more steps to you, grabbing your hands from around you, he looked at the few fingers that had bandaids on them, and the few that didn’t, looking red and raw from overbiting. His face scrunched, like he could feel the same pain you were feeling.

“And what about those women you let flirt with you? Is that just a misunderstanding, too?” You yanked your hands away from Steve’s grasp. You wiped at your eyes, preventing any tears that have been welling up from falling. You needed to stand your ground.

“I don’t want to have to compete for your love, Steve.”

“You’re not competing for my love, you have it-”

“Then why does it feel like I am?” You threw your hands up, exasperated.

“I don’t want you to feel that way. I never want you to feel that way.” Steve said, shaking his head. “I’ll tell them to stop, that it’s not appropriate. That I have you and only want you, honey. I promise. I can’t-” Steve’s voice cracked, you watched as his throat bobbed as he swallowed.

“I can’t live my life without you. These past few days have been hell for me. I hated having to come home to an empty house alone without you and going to bed without you next to me. You don’t know how relieved I was just being able to talk to you this morning. I’ve missed your beautiful face and your laugh and your smile and your everything. I will punish myself for the rest of my life if I have to just to be able to make up for what I’ve done to you. I will do anything, honey,” Steve was sobbing, his voice hiccuping in between sentences. His face was red and his eyes were squeezed shut, like he was willing himself to wake up from a nightmare.

You watched as Steve fell to his knees, grabbing your hands and leaning his head on your stomach. You gasped, staring at the man you loved, seeing him at rock bottom. You’ve never seen Steve cry this hard. You never wanted to see him like this ever again. 

“I’m so sorry, honey, I’m so, so sorry. I’ll do anything to have you back,” Steve’s words were muffled, tears and shaky breath mixed into them. You brought your hand up to caress his head, attempting to sooth him.

“Steve, baby, please,” you uttered, trying to calm him down. You grabbed his face, bending down to get to his level. Your hands were wet with his tears, trying to wipe away as many as you could.

You brushed his hair out of his face, cradling his cheeks. “I love you. So much. But it’s going to take some time for me to be able to trust you again. You really hurt me, Steve.” A tear fell down your cheek, your lips downturned.

“I’ll do anything, honey, I’ll do anything to have you back,” Steve shook his head back and forth. He wiped away the few tears falling on your face with his thumb, cradling your jaw. “I love you, I love you, I love you.” Steve chanted, bringing his hand to the back of your head and resting his forehead against yours, closing his eyes. His breathing started to slow, his breath still shaky.

You broke out into a sob, body shaking uncontrollably. You cursed yourself in your head.

Steve pulled back to look at you, the tears on his face mostly dried up. “Hey, hey,” he coaxed you, holding your face in his hands. You shook your head, trying to will away the tears that poured from your eyes.

“Look at me, honey, please,” Steve said, looking at you with worry in his eyes.

You shook your head more, trying to take a deep breath but being interrupted by the sobs racking through your body. You brought your hand to your mouth, trying to muffle the noise.

Steve engulfed you into a hug, your head resting against his chest as your body shook. He sat down, cradling you in his arms, shushing you quietly.

Steve whispered sweet nothings into your ears, his words muffled by your hair as he placed kisses to your head over and over. As soon as you slowly began to calm down, and the only sound being sniffles from the both of you and your own shaky breathing, Steve moved to look at you.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, okay?” Steve helped you to your feet, leading you to the bathroom. You looked at the not-made bed in the bedroom, your side looking a mess. You connected the dots, realizing Steve had been sleeping in your spot for the past couple nights. 

You watched as Steve ran a shower, setting out towels and a clean pair of clothes for you. You watched him diligently, leaning against the bathroom counter.

Steve walked towards the door. “I’ll be out here when you’re done, hone-”

“Wait,” you paused, looking at him. “Would you like to shower with me?” Your voice was quiet, like you were hesitant to even ask.

Steve smiled before turning back to face you. “Of course, honey. If that’s okay with you?”

You nodded. “I want you to.”

You watched as Steve lifted his shirt over his head and unbuttoned his pants. He looked at you, realizing you haven’t started to take your clothes off. His eyebrows scrunched, taking a few steps towards you.

You were becoming insecure about being naked in front of Steve. You know now his comment to Laurie wasn’t malicious but the negative thoughts you’ve had over your body because of it, ruminating in your head over the past couple months, have left you feeling like a foreigner in your own skin.

Like usual, it felt like Steve could read your mind. “Hey, I can give you some alone time if that’s what you need.”

You shook your head. “No, I want you here, I just-,” you glanced at yourself in the mirror, eyes raking over your body. “I feel so…so gross in my skin.”

Steve’s face fell at your words, a frown rearranging his features. “You are far from being gross, honey.” He stepped closer to you, his hands resting on your waist. “You are the most beautiful, breathtaking, stunning, sexiest woman I have ever seen. I am in constant awe at you and how I got lucky enough to have you want me.”

Your face heated up at his words, turning your head away from him to hide it. Steve grabbed your chin, forcing you to face him.

“I mean it. I wouldn’t lie to you. Especially about that.”

Your conversation was interrupted by the sound of the phone ringing in the kitchen. Both of your heads snapped towards the sound.

“Shit, I forgot to call and tell Nancy I was coming here. She probably thinks I got kidnapped on my way home,” you said, your hand up to your mouth in shock.

You fast walked to the phone before the ringing stopped, picking up the receiver to your ear.

“Steve, is she there? I don’t kno-”

“I’m so sorry, Nance. I forgot to tell you I was coming here. It was a last minute decision and I forgot. I’m fine, though.” Your words spilled out of you, trying to ease Nancy’s anxiety she must have been feeling.

You heard Nancy breathe a sigh of relief. “Oh thank god, I was about to report you as a missing person.” You huffed a laugh at her statement. “Are you sure you’re okay? Do you need me to come get you?”

“Yes, I’m fine, I promise.” You looked at Steve standing in the entryway of the kitchen, looking intently. “We’re fine,” you emphasized, smiling at Steve.

“Okay, that’s good. Good to hear you’re not going to be on 20/20. Though I wouldn’t have minded being able to talk to Barbara Walters,” Nancy said, snorting at her own joke. “Kidding, kidding. Well, let me know if you need anything. Are you going to stay there?”

You looked at Steve again, admiring him for a second. “Yeah, I think I’m gonna stay. I’ll come by tomorrow after work to grab my stuff.”

You watched as a grin broke out on Steve’s face, walking towards you. He wrapped his arms around your waist, hugging you from behind and attacking the sides of your face with kisses.

“Okay, Nance, I gotta go. I’ll see you later, love ya, bye.” You rushed off before slamming the phone back on the wall. 

You squealed as Steve lifted you off the ground, arms still wrapped around you. You turned around to face him once he let you down, seeing a big fat grin on his face. You missed that smile.

“Are you really gonna stay?” Steve grabbed your hips, bringing you closer to him, now chest to chest.

You looked up at him, smiling. “If you’ll have me.”

“I’ll have you for forever if you let me,” Steve said, his face leaning towards yours.

You lean into him, catching his lips with yours. Steve’s hands were splayed across your back, pressing you into him. You grabbed onto his shoulders for stability, deepening the kiss. Your hands glided across to the back of his head, gripping and pulling his hair. A groan escaped Steve’s lips, opening them up for you to slip your tongue into. Your tongue brushes against his, a whimper squeaking out of you.

You missed this- the way he tasted, the way he felt. You could die happy if you could do this- kissing Steve- forever.

You broke away to look at him, Steve looking absolutely wrecked.

“I’m never letting you go, ever again. If I ever upset you like that again, you have every right to beat me up.” 

You giggled at Steve’s exaggeration, shaking your head at him. “Deal.”

You watched as Steve’s face grew a permanent grin, his face lighting up. “I seriously do really love you. I think I saw you in a dream once and you just came to life, just for me.”

“I love you most.”

You looked at Steve with all the love you had for him, his words always getting to you. You don’t think it’s possible for someone to love you any more than Steve does, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. You don’t want anyone else, and neither does he. He’s made it his mission to make sure you knew that everyday for the rest of his life. You knew that, even if you were falling, Steve would always be at the bottom to catch you. Your new heights were being built one-by-one, one day at a time.

“Now, about that shower,” Steve said, smirking at you.

tag list: @softstormx @arimista @keepdrlving @kurtsw7rld96 @cutecur7ygirl @itmekelpy @exooojongdaeee @dreamerjj @katstonic @offbrandhandymanny @83927xoxo @keerygirlie98 @strangegirl26sff @strz3 @skkeletonns @alltoomay @l33nlikeacholo @cuddlyeren @eerilyjaggedconstruct @gaylittleboi69 @bloomingflower13 @callmeurfool @gcfspice @mhayes777 @amsh2007 @djostylesmodel

[ohwell-al]

Falling

part 1 steve harrington x reader

word count: 8.6k

summary: your relationship with steve is tested when insecurities, jealousy, misunderstanding, and miscommunication rear their ugly heads. it felt like you were screaming through static. steve felt like he was falling from the heights you built together.

content/warnings: hurt/comfort (eventually), ANGST, insecurities, insecurity about weight, lowkey bullying, self-conscious reader, minimal amount of fluff (sorry, there will be some next part), not beta read, no upside down au, set in 1990, no y/n, baseball coach/teacher!steve, art teacher!reader, reader has hair, no detailed physical descriptions of reader, small jancy mention, small mention of blood, crying, SUPER dumb steve, let's say steve never worked at WSQK and was working at family video then :P, let me know if i missed anything

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a/n: hi everyone! this is my first ever FINISHED fic!!!! i had the idea when i listened to the new leaked 5sos song "falling" and was filled with angst inspo. i had a lot of fun writing this but i did not get it proofread so i hope y'all enjoy it still! there will be a part 2 also so don't worry, i didn't leave y'all on a cliffhanger! I'm hoping to get it out by next week! let me know what y'all think! also follow me on twitter @ DJOS0S (with a zero between the s)

˚　✦　.　　. 　 ˚　.　 . ✦　˚　 . ★⋆. ࿐˚　✦　.　　. 　 ˚　.　 . ✦　˚　 . ★⋆

Steve was left in the wake of an empty wasteland. Atleast, that’s what you and Steve’s use-to-be-shared home felt like. He was left with a single note from you laying on the kitchen counter.

Dear Steve,

I don’t know how to go about this but I’m going to stay with Nancy and Jonathan for a couple of days. I need to figure some things out. I feel lost in this relationship, so lost.

I love you so much, more than words can say. I just need time to think.

He knew this was coming, but he told himself he was thinking too far into things. That you wouldn’t actually leave him. That you would just talk it out. He didn’t know when you were going to be back or if you’re ever going to come back. He hoped you would.

The two of you had a fight two days before you left. Your first real fight. It was big and explosive and spilling out, soaking in every crack, with the both of you not knowing how to clean it up. You both said some things, things you both wish you could take back. Insecurities and misunderstandings seeping out with nowhere to go.

You were staying with Nancy and Jonathan until you figured out an actual gameplan. You still didn’t know what you were doing. You packed up what clothes and other personal belongings you could fit in a dusty duffel bag that used to be stuffed in the far back of your shared closet. It had been taunting you for weeks. You would see it every time you searched for clothes, its black-and-white striped pattern and lumpy shape waiting for you to grab it and do what you’ve been contemplating.

You didn’t want to leave. It was thought over in your mind daily. When you woke up and before you drifted off to sleep- with Steve sleeping soundly next to you- the thought plagued your mind. The anxiety wasn’t letting up but neither was the wide open space that was hollowing out your heart. The fight was your switch.

But you loved him.

Correction: you love him. 

But he was hurting you, and you don’t even know if he knew the pain he was causing. You were constantly doubting his intention, his reasoning. If he even knew his intentions. If he even knew that he was slowly carving out a void in your body, a heavy heart plummeting deeper and deeper inside.

It started a couple months ago.

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Two Months Ago

You were standing in the bathroom, leaning over the sink to get extra close to the mirror, attempting to perfect your mascara.

You and Steve’s five-year high school reunion was tonight. Part of you wanted your former classmates to think you had a “glow up” but another part told yourself you didn’t need their approval nor opinions. Your long-term boyfriend, Steve Harrington, was the only validation you needed. 

What more could a girl ask for when you had someone like him, loving you for everything that you are, throughout the ups and downs?

You couldn’t lie to yourself, though. You were nervous. You weren’t exactly the talk-of-the-town in high school. You thought of yourself as a background character, while everyone else was the main one in their story. You didn’t know where you fit in life.

Maybe it was the teenage angst flowing through your body at the time, but the insecurities still appear now and then when you run into old classmates at the grocery store- the ones who still live in Hawkins. You weren’t one of the lucky ones to make their great escape from the small town, but being with Steve made up for it.

You were both in this together.

As you were giving yourself one last swipe of mascara and a pat of tissue on your lips to tame your cherry red lipstick, Steve came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“You look beautiful,” he says, placing his chin on your right shoulder.

You made eye contact with him through the mirror, a shy smile appearing on your face. The only way to describe Steve’s expression was pure love. 

You’ve never been looked at by someone the way Steve looks at you. At that moment, you couldn’t deny his love for you. You were his everything.

“You almost ready yet, honey,” Steve asked, his eyes attached to you in the mirror.

You reached behind his head, raking your fingers through his hair, smiling. Steve closed his eyes softly, a soft hum releasing from his lips at the feeling.

“I’m ready.”

Steve, arms still wrapped around your waist, turned you around to face him. He planted a kiss to your cherry lips, soliciting an annoyed, but loving, whine from you.

“Steve,” you pout, “I just put that on.”

You looked at him, a giggle escaping your lips, as you saw his stained with the same cherry-color.

“You look pretty,” you giggled.

Steve glanced behind you at the mirror to see the masterpiece left on his lips, puckering his lips to humor you. You gently attempted to wipe the excess off with the leftover tissue you previously used, amused by his appearance.

He stood back a few steps, his eyes raking up and down your body, taking in your beauty. Your face immediately got hot, feeling like you’re under a microscope.

“What,” you questioned, not able to make eye contact.

“I just can’t believe I got so lucky.”

“Okay, you cornball, we got somewhere to be,” rolling your eyes, trying to laugh off his compliment.

You were never good at taking compliments. Your body always had an immediate reaction, especially with Steve. He just had a way of making you feel like the only girl in the world worth his time but you had a way of responding to his loving comments with humor, trying to take away the seriousness.

Making your way out of the house, Steve locked the front door, the two of you settling into his maroon beemer. You took a deep breath as he pulled out of his parking space, making the short distance trip to Hawkins High School.

Steve pulled into a parking spot close to the front entrance. Looking around the lot, you observed the dozen other cars present.

Your nerves got the best of you at the sight, realizing that you’re going to be seen by classmates who never gave you the time of day.

You grabbed at the visor above you, looking through the tiny mirror hastily inspecting all the possible flaws you could find on your face.

“Maybe the lipstick was too much,” you said, biting at your bottom lip, eyebrows scrunching with shame.

Steve gently grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him.

“You look perfect, honey. None of these people have anything on you. I couldn’t have asked for a more beautiful woman by my side.”

You gave him a chaste peck on the lips, not wanting to smudge your lipstick and make more of a mess.

“I love you,” you said, pulling back from his lips, resisting the urge to further it into more.

“I love you more, honey.”

You and Steve exited his car, making your way to the front doors of the high school. The hallway was sprinkled with bright, white fairy lights hanging from the ceiling. The entrance of the gym was covered with black and gold balloons framing the doorway, with a big banner hanging above:

WELCOME CLASS OF 1985

Steve took hold of your hand, squeezing it once, then guiding you inside the gaudy decorated gym.

White lights scattered the ceilings, gold tinsel and garland were arranged on tables decorated with frilly centerpieces mixed with food and refreshments. A DJ was set up at the back of the gym facing the entrance- some random, old faculty member who was most likely trained to use the equipment that afternoon. The sound of “Out of Touch” by Hall and Oates echoes throughout, transitioning to “Take On Me” by a-ha. You quickly realized the setlist was old hits from 1985.

You giggled to yourself, the whole thing being extremely cheesy, easing your anxiety.

Steve perked up at the sound of “Take On Me.” You quickly remember how much he overplayed this song, still listening to it now and then on a mixtape you made for him of his favorite songs. He still loves to tell you that it’s his favorite gift he has ever gotten. You tell him he’s exaggerating every time.

Another table was set up to the left of the entrance with dozens of nametags scattered across. Each one had an old yearbook from ‘85 next to the name and you wonder if you look any different from your teenage self. Could you have changed that much?

Obviously you were going to be a little different from when you were a teenager but is it in a bad way? You didn’t really remember what you looked like then. You kind of blocked off the entire memory of high school on purpose, forgetting yourself along the way. 

You found your name tag, staring at your picture incredulously. You grabbed it quickly, not wanting Steve to see it, slightly embarrassed. It sat in your palm, wrinkling.

You spotted Steve’s name tag. Evidence of the legendary “King Steve” was staring right back at you and you began to wonder how you managed to catch his attention. You never really talked to each other in school besides the occasional class discussion in the classes you shared. 

Steve didn’t ask you out until 3 years ago, when you became a regular at Family Video. You made a New Year’s resolution to yourself that year to watch at least one movie you have never seen a week, thus making your weekly appearances catch Steve’s eye.

He remembered you from school, of course, but ever since he fell from grace and realized he really did peak in high school, he was different, changed. 

The casual (and a little awkward) flirting eventually transitioned into him asking you out on a date to daily phone calls and seeing each other almost everyday to eventually being the only person he had eyes for. 

Grabbing his nametag, you promptly removed the paper backing and stuck it onto the right side of his chest, giving it gentle pat.

“You were so cute in school,” a soft smile gracing your lips as you stared at the 5-year old picture. 

“Were?”

You tilted your head up at him, rolling your eyes, smirking.

“You’re handsome now.”

A blush appeared on Steve’s cheeks, trying to bite back a smile.

“You flatter me. Where’s yours?”

You groaned, opening your palm where the treacherous nametag laid.

“I’ve always hated this picture. I forgot it was picture day that day so I wasn’t fixed up for it. I almost skipped out on it but I know my mom would have flipped if she didn’t get any senior photos,” you said, grimacing at 17-year old you. 

You were so naive then. You wonder what changed or if you’re still the same you. 

Steve looked at the picture like it was the most amazing thing he’s ever seen. He took it between his fingers, really staring at it as if he'd discovered the most valuable gemstone in the world. 

“This is the best thing I’ve ever seen, what are you talking about? My girl was stunning then,” he said as he slowly looked up from the picture to your face, “and even more now.”

Rolling your eyes, you took the name tag from his hand and plastered it to your chest. He chuckled at your reaction, reaching for your left hand, his thumb smoothing the back of it up and down.

You examined the small details of the decorations around you, wondering how long it took everyone to put it together, and if your old history, Mrs. Click, was the one who pitched the idea to make it such an eyesore.

Distracted by your microscopic examination of a singular flickering light hanging from a string of fairy lights, you didn’t notice two former classmates approaching you and Steve. You felt his hand leave yours, making you look towards the new arrivals. You recognized the couple- you’re assuming- as Todd Michaels and Laurie Sullivan. You never had any classes with Todd but he was a part of the basketball team with Steve. And Laurie…

Laurie was one of Steve’s ex-girlfriends. Or flings? 

You never really knew what their title was. But you do know they were together for a couple of months in high school. Steve had a reputation of getting around. That was King Steve. But you had the real Steve. The Steve who loved you.

You watched as Steve gave the two quick side hugs, making small talk. Steve’s interest in the conversation seemed little to none, only wanting to be respectful. Laurie then acknowledged you, turning the conversation over. You suddenly felt like you had too many pairs of eyes on you, not really preparing for a lot of social interaction. It was Steve’s idea to come to the reunion at first. You were reluctant but wanted to make him happy. 

Laurie began to ask simple questions, wanting to know how life has been for the past five years, what jobs we have, what Hawkins is like, etc..

“How long have you two been together? I don’t recall you guys really interacting with each other in school,” Laurie questioned. Her tone seemed off, degrading, demeaning- like the idea of Steve being with you was an unfathomable concept. She played it off as an innocent question, a sly smirk gracing her face that was caked with too much setting powder. 

Steve butt in fast.

“We met when I used to work at the Family Video in town,” he looked down towards you, a smile slowly appearing as he recalled the fond memory. He always said that he fell in love with you at first sight.

You liked to tell him it’s impossible for him to have done that since it wouldn’t have technically been at first sight. You had known each other since middle school.

He liked to tease that was when he really saw you. In your own light. He was “stunned by your beauty” he says. Whatever that meant..

Steve gave a quick rundown of your “meet-cute.” Laurie then asked the one question that could make or break a couple.

“So, do you two have any kids yet? Me and Todd are planning kid number two but wanted to wait another year until Max is a bit older.”

Todd didn’t seem interested in the topic, almost like it was a touchy subject for him, too. You almost felt sorry for him. Almost. You couldn’t feel too bad for a guy who was such a major douchebag in school.

Your heart started beating rapidly. You and Steve have mentioned the possibility of kids. He’s always made it clear he wanted a big family. You would like one or two, but maybe not six, like he’s mentioned before. You told him three is your max. Steve says he’s okay with any amount, as long as he gets to have them with you. But the idea is still scary. You’ve always worried that you wouldn’t do a good job as a mother. What if you’re not cut out for it? What if the stress gets to you? What if Steve suddenly changes his mind about wanting kids? What if you change your mind about wanting kids?

The list went on and on in your head.

Steve felt your hand gripping his tighter, a cue that you didn’t know how to interject into the conversation.

“We want kids, for sure. In the future, maybe,” Steve replied, squeezing your hand back- a way for him to tell you that it’s okay.

Laurie’s face morphed into shock.

“Wait, you don’t have any already?”

“Oh, no. Not yet. It’s just the two of us for now.”

Steve looked like he was slowly checking out of the conversation. Ways to make his great escape from the couple and make your rounds around the gym scattered through his head. But you didn’t see that. You started zoning out, letting him take control of the conversation. These were people you never spoke to in school and they never spoke to you. You were on the opposite side of the popularity spectrum. You don’t even know if they remember you. You wouldn’t be surprised.

You heard a sly giggle escape Laurie’s mouth. It made  you look towards her, your focus now on lock. You could hear Todd say something under his breath, though you’re not able to clearly make out what it was. He looks annoyed at Laurie. 

“Oh, I just assumed that you’ve already had a baby because, I mean,” she paused, trying to bite back a smirk but failing. You saw her eyes looking you up and down, but not in a good way. She’s looking at you like you’re a foreign specimen.

“Laurie,” you heard Todd grumble beside her, a way for him to tell her to stop before she started something.

“I just assumed you’ve already carried a baby.” Laurie turned her focus away from you towards Todd and Steve, talking as if you weren’t there anymore, “She’s gained a bit of weight since high school.”

Your blood ran cold. Heart stilling for just a second.

Of course you’re not the same weight as you were when you were 17 but you didn’t think you changed that much.

Steve interjected, though your focus was on the back wall behind the couple, not paying attention to Steve’s affect or the fact that he was barely listening to what Laurie was saying. Your eyes glazed over with Laurie’s words bouncing off of your ears.

“Yeah, yeah. Anyway, it was really nice talking to you guys. We’ll see you around.”

Your ears perked up at Steve’s comment.

Yeah, yeah.

The word hammered into your brain.

Yeah

Your ears started ringing. Your insecurities getting the best of you. You’ve always felt a little subconscious about your physical appearance, constantly having to tell yourself that bodies are always changing. But that never helped calm the nagging voice in your head that despite it all, Steve might not want you anymore one day.

Yeah, sure, you could also tell yourself you should never care what a man thinks about you, but it’s Steve, your Steve. If there’s anyone out there that you cared what they think about you, it’s him. So the idea of him agreeing with Laurie Sullivan, a girl who he used to date. A girl he used to be attracted to. A girl he could still be attracted to. The thought made you nauseous.

Lost in thought, you blindly followed Steve’s lead hand-in-hand as he walked towards a table with drinks and snacks. He grabbed two cups, filling them with some kind of punch. He tried to hand a drink towards you but your mind was elsewhere. Your face was stoic, eyes glazed over. He took notice quickly.

 “Hey, are you okay,” he asked, concern lacing his voice. He bent down slightly so the two of you were face-to-face, catching your eyes.

You shook yourself out of your thoughts, giving him a quick but small smile.

“Yes,” grabbing the drink from his hand, “I’m okay. Just distracted by all of the decorations.”

Steve’s eyebrows furrow, like he didn’t fully believe you, but nevertheless he didn’t press on.

The rest of the night went by in a haze, quickly dissociating the rest of the event. Steve made small talk with former classmates and friends, while you nodded your head to pretend like you were paying attention to what was said. Simple yes’s and no’s were all that would come out of you, too distracted with your own thoughts. Every now and then, Steve would make quick glances at you, worry slowly etching his face. You’re more quiet than usual. He thought to himself that it might just be your nerves getting to you. You were never the best at large events. It took time for you to come out of your shell with him before fully expressing how loud your laugh can be and how wide your smile is.

You were quiet the entire drive back home, Steve’s right hand resting on your thigh, making small circles with his thumb. The ride was short, but every now and then he would look over at you. You were staring at the window, trying to distract yourself from your mind with the bland scenery of Hawkins.

Once settled inside the house, you kicked off your heels by the front door, walking towards the bathroom. Steve grabbed your wrist, pulling you towards him.

He softly brushed a few strands of hair out of face, cradling your cheeks.

“Hey,” he says quietly, barely above a whisper, “Are you sure you’re okay? You got quiet on me back there.”

You hesitated for a second, deciding between telling him the truth or stuffing it into the back of your mind, not wanting to confront him and start an issue. You and Steve rarely actually fought. You would bicker back and forth sometimes about minuscule things like who’s turn it is to wash the dishes or his bad habit of hogging the covers at night. But never an actual fight. That’s why you loved him so much. He made everything feel so easy. He made it seem so easy for him to love you.

Deep down, you were battling with yourself. 

You decided to leave it alone.

“I’m fine. It was just a lot of socializing. I think my social battery died fast,” you said, giving him a fake smile, hoping it seemed genuine enough for him not to press on. “I’m gonna hop in the shower, wash all this makeup off, okay?”

“Want me to join you,” Steve asks, his eyebrows quirking up, smirking.

You replied a little too quickly, almost showing your reserve.

“No! I mean, I need to shave my legs and you know how small the shower is with two people in there. I’ll be quick, promise.”

His cheeky face slowly dropped, confusion at your demeanor.

“That’s fine, honey. I’ll be here when you get out.”

You did not take a quick shower. It almost felt cliché, like some teen high school movie where the female main character sits at the bottom of the bathtub, letting the shower rain over her. But that’s exactly what you were doing. It was better than standing up and having a full view of your body.

She’s gained a bit of weight since high school.

Yeah.

It felt like nails in your head. You tried to rationalize Steve’s response. Maybe he misheard her? No, the shrill of her voice was pretty clear, even through the sound of “Careless Whisper” piercing and echoing throughout the gym. Maybe he didn’t care about your weight? Still, it didn’t need to be pointed out and agreed on. You felt shameful, like you were back in middle school getting picked on.

You didn’t know how long you were in there. You usually took long showers anyway, so it gave you a good excuse.

You quickly got changed, having brought a pair of pajamas in the bathroom with you.

Steve was already settled into bed when you emerged from the bathroom, watching a rerun of Family Matters. He turned his head towards you, patting your spot on the bed beckoning you over. You laid on the bed, trying to quickly go to sleep, hoping you wake up realizing it was all just a nightmare. That nothing that happened tonight actually happened. Steve cuddled up behind you, his arm draping over your body, pulling you close to his chest. This was how the two of you usually ended up. But this time, having him touching your body, your stomach, it made your stomach churn, your heart race. You hoped he didn’t notice. But another part hoped he did. 

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The following weeks didn’t help settle your doubts, it only made them worse. You began to question things you hadn’t before, things catching your attention that you’ve never noticed until now. Things part of you wished you stayed oblivious to. An angry ball of jealousy building up inside of you.

You were the art teacher at Hawkins Middle School, so you had many students who were a part of the little league baseball team that Steve coached for. The field was set outside of the school, giving you ample opportunity to watch their games after work.

However, you began to notice things. Flirting.

The constant flirting.

Not done by Steve directly, of course. By the mothers. But the fact that he wouldn’t stop them made it worse. He’s allowing it. Each game you’ve gone to for the past month, you’ve had to listen to what they say about him. What they say about you. How they talk to him, and he lets them. You don’t know how much longer you could swallow the lump that grew in your throat each time.

But every time you tried to hold your tears back in front of him, you ended up spilling them in the bathroom at home. You’ve resorted to crying in the shower, hoping the sound of the water muffles you. There has only been one time that you think Steve heard you.

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Letting the shower fall over your back, crouched down in the bottom of the bath tub. The sound of sniffling and subtle sobs were interrupted by the sound of knocking on the bathroom door. It slowly creaked open, Steve peaking his head through the crack.

“Honey, are you okay? I thought I heard crying,” concern lacing his voice.

You sniffled, “No, I’m okay.”

“Are you sure?”

You paused, contemplating telling the truth and dealing with the confrontation, even if it confirmed your doubts.

“Yes, Steve, I’m okay. I-,” you stutter, “I promise.”

“Okay, honey. I’ll be here when you’re done. I love you.”

He waited for your response.

“I love you, too,” you sniffled.

Steve closed the door, leaving you to let the tears that were building up escape your eyes.

Steve was confused. He knew you were crying. He heard you, he just didn’t know why. You weren’t talking to him. 

He felt like he was missing something. What weren’t you telling him?

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That was two weeks ago.

After a grueling day of class and putting up the rest of the clay creations on a rack to dry that your students have been working on for two weeks now, you took a peek out of one of your classroom windows. You had a perfect view of the baseball field, seeing Steve round up the kids in the dugout and parents slowly gathering into the stands.

A smile slowly graced your face, forgetting for a second. You’ve been slowly trying to get yourself to get over what’s happened, playing it off that it isn’t that big of a deal.

Laurie.

The moms.

It’s fine, you tell yourself.

You can get over it.

You can totally get over it.

Maybe if you kept telling yourself that, you eventually would.

You grabbed your bag from your desk, locking up your classroom. You began making the short trek to the baseball field, catching the sun slowly beginning to set. It was spring but Indiana weather made it seem like it was still the edge of winter. A crisp breeze sprayed your hair to the side, your fingers quickly reaching up to tame it. You would have brought a thicker sweater if you knew it was going to be so windy, but nevertheless bundled up with what you had.

You reached the gates of the field, eyeing for a spot in the stands. Spotting a free row at the top of the bleachers, you made your way up the metal steps. You were at the seats closer to the dugout, giving you a good view of Steve.

He was in his usual baby blue coaching uniform, giving a motivational pep talk to the boys. As the boys took their positions, Steve and another coach stood outside of the dugout, making sure the kids were in their correct spots.

Steve was glancing around the stands, almost like he was looking for someone specific.

When he spotted you, a wide grin grew on his face, giving you a quick wink. You gave him a quick wave, before his attention moved back to the game.

As the game progresses, your attention began to be skewed by the comments being made by a few women sitting below you.

“I love Timmy but I can’t help but find some of these games to be so boring. The only thing keeping me entertained is Coach Steve over there.”

“Oh, yes, I know right! He’s definitely a sight for sore eyes.”

“You think he’s single?”

“There’s no way! Someone as good looking as him?”

“I don’t see a ring on his finger, so he can’t be that committed.”

“Isn’t he dating the middle school art teacher? What’s her name…”

“Is he?! I mean I’m sure he’s a nice guy but is he that nice?”

“Seems like charity work to me. Maybe they’re just really close friends.”

The ladies began snickering, trying to muffle their obnoxious laughter at their poor taste in jokes. It’s clear they didn’t see you, or else they wouldn’t be so blatant about their opinion of you. If Laurie Sullivvan’s comment didn’t make you feel like an eyesore, the women sitting before you made sure to.

You didn’t want to cry. You didn’t want them to make you feel like this. Steve is with you. He loves you. 

Right?

You shook your head, trying to shake the negative thoughts flying through your mind, doubt that was building up inside you, adding to the doubt that’s been slowly making your brain their home. The lump in your throat was slowly growing bigger and bigger, wanting to make its escape. You told yourself you’re lucky it was spring. You could blame your watery, red eyes on allergies.

By the end of the game, all the parents and family members began gathering out of their seats, making their way to the field to find their kids. You waited a bit until the main crowd had left their seats, using the time to collect yourself before you met up with Steve.

Making your way down the steps, you reached the gate entry by the dugout. Before you made your way onto the field, you spotted Steve talking to one of the moms. One of the moms who had a lot of opinions about you just a couple of hours ago.

This was the usual routine, though you’ve started to believe the moms have been taking turns to talk to him after the Friday night games.

You could feel your stomach tie itself in a tight knot at the sight of the woman obviously flirting with Steve. You couldn’t quite hear every word they were saying, only glimpses.

The woman wasn’t ugly. You had to admit to yourself that she was awfully pretty. Maybe too pretty. Her skin was sunkissed perfectly, her long, dark hair cascading over her shoulders. She looked like she came off of the cover of Vogue.

Steve was smiling, laughing off whatever the mother was saying. You couldn’t tell if he was smiling because he’s enjoying it or if he was just trying to appease her. Either way, the thought made  you sick.

That is, until the woman reached up and slowly rubbed up and down Steve’s upper arm. But it didn’t last more than a couple of seconds before the loud creak of the gate door you began to lean on- your ears buzzing- sounded off. The two quickly looked towards you, Steve’s face lighting up. The woman dropped her hand, staring daggers as Steve walked towards you.

“Hi, honey.”

Steve approached you with open arms, pulling you into a suffocating hug. He pulled back just enough to see your face, not able to help the smile creeping up despite what you had to witness seconds before.

“Did you enjoy the game?”

The woman was still standing near, flicking her eyes back and forth between you and Steve. You couldn’t seem to decipher her face but you assumed she wasn’t pleased.

Your eyes flicked towards her, clearing your throat before turning back to Steve. Your smile never quite reached your eyes. You hoped he noticed.

You also hoped he didn’t.

“Uh, yeah,” feigning excitement, “you guys did really good! It was such a close game.”

The woman next to you rolled her eyes, murmuring something under her breath, and walked away.

Steve paid no mind to it. His focus was on you.

Your focus was on the dirt, the edges of your sneakers stained red from it.

You looked back up at him, faking a tight-lipped smile.

“You ready to head home? I was thinking we do takeout tonight if that’s okay with you, honey.”

“Takeout sounds good.”

“Lemme go grab my stuff and I’ll meet you in the car.”

You and Steve always carpool to work together. It only makes sense since you both work at the same school.

Steve got the coaching job (and sex-ed teaching job) a year after you started working at the middle school. It came at a surprise for the both of you, but it also seemed fitting. Steve has always been so good with kids and it was evident by his relationship with the younger half of the group, especially Dustin.

As soon as Steve turned around, your smile dropped. You walked towards his car in the staff parking lot, fiddling with your fingers. It’s always been an anxious tic of yours, but it’s better than you biting your nails so far down, your skin begins to bleed. Steve helped you fight that habit, forcing you to put bandaids on all ten of your fingers so you can’t chew on them when your anxiety spikes.

However, you couldn’t stop the repetitive voices in your mind telling you he deserved better. Someone prettier, someone more outgoing, someone who could bring him the ultimate happiness. Someone others wouldn’t doubt that he could really want to be with.

I mean, there has to be something wrong with me if there are so many people who don’t see me as good enough for him.

You’ve always felt a little insecure about yourself, you think. The “normal” amount of insecure that people felt. But you were starting to feel it in heavier doses now. You felt like you were going insane. Were the moms always like this with him? Have you just been missing it, not thinking to notice it? Why wouldn’t he tell them he has you? Does he even mention you? Does he mention you to anyone?

You didn’t notice your fingers starting to bleed as you started to chew on the nails, on the skin around them. You looked up to Steve’s voice approaching you.

“Sorry I took so lo- honey, your fingers.”

You removed your pointer finger from your mouth, looking down at the red, torn up mess you made, your hands slightly trembling- though it could be from both the anxiety blooming through you and the pain you were now starting to feel in the aftermath. 

“Shit,” you muttered

“Baby, I thought you stopped doing this months ago,” Steve said softly, taking hold of your shaking hand. 

“I didn’t even realize. I-,” you paused, watching him as he grabs a rag from his duffle bag, wrapping it around your fingers, “I’m sorry. I think I’ve just had a weird day.”

“We can talk about it when we get home, okay?”

Steve grabbed the sides of your head before planting a kiss to the top of it. He grabbed your good hand, leading you to his car.

The drive home was silent. Your drives home have been silent a lot lately, especially after the baseball games. You didn’t know if Steve had noticed this change. If he has, he hasn’t bothered to bring it up.

Entering the house, Steve made his way to the bathroom, grabbing a pack of bandaids and ointment. Walking back out, he gestured to you to come towards him in the kitchen, sitting at a small dining table only fit for two.

He slowly began to put healing ointment on your chewed-on fingers. Your eyes stayed focused on his gentle movements, too anxious to look up at him. You didn’t want to deal with the confrontation. The confrontation that he’s going to ask about when you started back up on the bad habit. You didn’t want to admit that it started after the class reunion incident.

The Laurie incident.

You felt embarrassed, ashamed. You felt like a little kid, letting others’ actions hurt you as much as they did.

The room stayed silent for a couple of minutes but to you, it feels like hours. The awkward air, the obvious tension, words left unsaid.

“So,” Steve started, “are you going to let me know when you started doing this again or?”

You doubt he meant it to sound condescending, but you felt like you were a little girl who just got caught sneaking into your mom’s makeup.

You stayed quiet for a couple of seconds before opening and closing your mouth, your brain telling you to speak and your anxiety shutting you up. You tried again.

“She was flirting with you,” you muttered under your breath, voice barely above a whisper. You refused to look at Steve, maintaining eye contact with your hand as it’s being held in his, pausing his movement and setting down the ointment onto the table with his other.

“What?”

Steve’s voice sounded confused, like he didn’t know who “she” was or what you were talking about in general.

You exhaled through your nose, closing your eyes for a second and slowly removing your hand from his. You laid your hands in your lap, your good hand slowly being picked at by your bad hand, the greasy ointment transferring in process. Steve’s eyes locked on your hands.

“Nothing, nevermind.” You sounded defeated. It felt pointless. It was just jealousy speaking. Right?

You got up from the chair, making your way to the bedroom.

“Wait,” Steve said getting up from the chair, “honey, I’m just confused.”

You paused by the doorway.

“Confused by what?”

 “You just said ‘she was flirting with you’? Who are you talking about?”

You turned around to face him, still keeping your distance. A look of pure confusion was etched on Steve’s face. You didn’t know whether to be more upset about the actual situation or the fact that he was acting clueless about it. It was so obvious what that mother’s intentions were. You’re not dumb.

“That woman. At the game. She was flirting with you,” you spoke in broken sentences, hoping to make your point clear and maybe jog his memory of the incident that happened not even an hour ago.

“What woma-,” Steve’s face morphed like he finally understood what you meant, “oh, honey.”

He was smiling.

Why was he smiling? Did he think this was amusing to you? You hadn’t gotten the joke yet.

“Baby, she was harmless,” he said, leaning against the kitchen counter, “we were talking about how good her kid is getting at pitching. You know Michael. He’s in your art class right?”

“She was rubbing your arm, Steve,” your voice evident with annoyance. You couldn’t understand how he didn’t see what was wrong.

“She was just being friendly, okay? You know how the moms are, honey. I can’t be rude to them.”

Your eyebrows scrunched at his words.

You know how the moms are, honey.

What is that supposed to mean?

“No, Steve, I actually don’t know ‘how the moms are’,” you made air quotes with your fingers before crossing your arms, “enlighten me.”

Steve’s feet shifted, standing up straight, clearing his throat.

“They’re just…like that, you know?”

He’s clearly dodging the question. You’re staring daggers at him.

Steve sighed  hard, rubbing a hand through his hair, needing to do something with his hands.

“Okay, yes, they can get flirty sometimes, but it doesn’t mean anything, honey. I’m not doing anything back.”

You could feel heat rising inside of you, your fingers twitching at your sides.

“You’re not really stopping them, either, Steve. All I’m getting from this is that this isn’t a new thing and you’re just letting these random women flirt with you, and you what? Expect me to tolerate that? Because you can’t ‘be rude to them’, is that it?”

You could hear your voice rising, your patience wearing so thin, you could feel it cracking.

Steve looked like a child being scolded. You felt like a mother scolding her child. It shouldn’t feel like this.

The fact that he was well aware of this behavior and he wouldn’t stop it, angered you more. It felt like he wanted the attention, like he craved it. Your mind went directly to how he was when he was in high school, receiving attention from girls left and right. Did he want to go back to that? Did he miss the attention? Is your’s not enough for him anymore?

The only sound you could hear was your own heartbeat drumming in your ears. You refused to look at Steve, your head hanging low.. You could feel his eyes on you.

“Am I not enough for you anymore?”

Your voice was shaking. You had to force the words out. Your eyes began to sting with tears threatening to spill. You didn’t want to cry. You didn’t want him to pity you, you just wanted him to listen.

Steve was shocked at your words. His eyes looked bugged out. He could hear your voice shaking, your chest unevenly moving up and down.

“Baby, what are you talking about? What is going on?”

Steve took a step towards you. You took a step back.

“Am I not good enough for you, Steve?” You looked up at him, your lips turned downward, eyebrows scrunched together like you’re in pain.

“Baby, you’re more than enough for me,” Steve stutters, “I don’t know where this is coming from all of a sudden.”

You scoffed, shaking your head in disbelief.

“I feel like I’m dating King Steve.”

That nickname leaving your lips stopped Steve in his tracks. You continued.

“I’m having to hear and watch these women throw themselves at you and you don’t do anything about it. You just-,” you pause, trying to find the right words, “you let them. You’re not setting any boundaries despite being with me.” You pointed towards yourself.

“You’re with me,” your lips trembling, a tear falling down your cheek. “It doesn’t feel like I fully have you. It feels like I’m having to compete for you and prove that I’m even worthy of your time. That it’s a shock that you would want to be with me. In here, I have you, I have you all to myself. But out there,” you pointed outwards, “I feel like I have to share you.”

Steve looked shattered. He was at a loss for words, feeling like no matter what he could say, it wouldn’t fix the pain that he caused.

He took a step forward, arms reaching out for you. 

“Honey, I-I love you,” his voice cracking.

You wiped the tears falling down your cheeks, hands shaking.

“Do you?”

Steve was taken aback by your question, his feet glued to the floor. He couldn’t believe you would question that, question something that he was so sure of himself. It felt like the floor was falling apart underneath him, crumbling to the ground.

“Of course I do,” he gasped, breathless. He could see your body softly shaking, quiet hiccups and sobs coursing through you. 

“Am I not pretty to you anymore? Or was I ever? I just- I feel like I’m competing with women who are on a different level than me, Steve. I’m not them, I-I’m average and you can do so much better than average.” You start rambling on, Steve trying to butt in between your short pauses, taking a few steps closer to you, but not wanting to go over a boundary you have clearly placed between you.

“Baby-”

“-I mean, I supposedly also gained a noticeable amount of weight that I had to hear stupid Laurie Sullivan point out-”

“Baby, can you please just let me-”

“-and you had to agree with her!”

Steve’s mouth was agape, shock written all over his face. Your breathing was heavy, chest moving up and down rapidly like you just finished running a marathon. Your face was soaked with tears, red and blotchy. But you were angry. You were so incredibly angry. 

Angry about Laurie, angry about it ruining that night, angry that it cut you so deep, you began to watch what you ate. You were also angry about those mothers flirting with Steve so callously, even though they knew he was with you. However, you were really angry at Steve. Angry that he just let them. He let them, and expected you to tolerate it.

The house was silent. The only noise that could be heard were your own heartbeat and a neighbor’s dog barking outside. You didn’t want to speak first. You were so tired of speaking first. You let everything out of you, all of the thoughts that have been brewing and marinating inside of you. You felt like a deflated balloon and you didn’t know how to get the air back in. It felt suffocating.

But deep down inside, Steve genuinely had no idea what you were talking about. He would have never pointed out your weight like that. Hell, he would never point out anyone’s flaws, and definitely not yours. He thought you were flawless. He was rummaging his brain to recall the events of that night to see if he could remember exactly the conversation between him and Laurie.

You broke eye contact with Steve, looking at your feet, defeated. You took a shaky deep breath.

“I’m going to go to bed, Steve,” you sighed, wanting this to be done with for now. You began to turn around until you felt Steve’s hand wrap around your wrist, stopping you. You refused to look at him. You could feel his eyes burning a hole through your face.

“Wait, please, I don’t want you going to bed upset. Especially because of me.”

“We can talk about it tomorrow,” you said quietly, though you knew you were lying to him.

Steve always had Saturday morning practice with the kids. You decided then and there, you were going to pack a small bag and stay at Nancy and Jonathan’s for a couple of days after he left- just enough time to cool down and collect your thoughts and maybe, just maybe,  figure out what’s going to happen with your relationship. The thought made you nauseous but you knew it was needed. This would be the first time in two years that you and Steve would spend apart. You’ve been attached to the hip ever since he asked if you’d like to live together.

He let go of your arm, watching as you went inside the bedroom. He stayed in the living room, sitting on the couch, staring at a blank wall. As the night went on and the sound of crickets chirping and the neighbor’s dog still barking, Steve headed for bed himself. He walked into the dark room, seeing your figure curled into bed. He stood in the doorway admiring you. But as quick as his admiration came, so did the feeling of his now heavy heart. 

Steve tucked in next to you, wanting to reach out to bring you closer to him, but knowing he should give you some space. He watched as your chest rose with each breath you took, before falling asleep himself. You were awake, though, hoping he didn’t notice. You could feel his eyes in the back of your head, could feel his self-conscious movements.

When the sun rose, you could feel Steve slowly getting out of bed. Every morning, he would reach over and kiss you on top of your head. You felt his lips meet your temple, your eyes squeezing shut, pretending to be asleep. He stayed there for a few seconds longer than usual, like he sensed what was to come, almost savoring the moment. 

His presence emanated through the house as he got ready- the shower running, his clothes rustling as he put them on, his steps throughout the house that you could recognize as his without seeing him, the smell of coffee brewing, the clinking of a spoon as he stirred the cup of coffee (a splash of heavy cream with 4 packets of sugar, he liked it sweet), and finally, the front door closing with a lock and the sound of the gravel driveway crunching as he pulled away.

That was your cue. You walked to the phone hanging off of the kitchen wall, dialing Nancy’s home phone, hoping at least her or Jonathan were home to pick up.

“Please pick up, pick up-,” you muttered to yourself.

On the fourth ring, the phone clicked, and the sound of Nancy’s voice rang through.

“Hello?”

A sigh left your mouth, not realizing you were holding your breath.

“Nance, hey, I have a favor to ask.”

You gave Nancy a quick rundown over what has happened the past two months, tears welling up in your eyes too fast before you could hold them back. The memories still fresh and vivid, emotions you’ve had to settle within you instead of blowing up like a timebomb waiting to detonate.

But of course, Nancy was your best friend, so obviously she understood. She would do anything for you and vice versa. 

The sound of a car running and door closing sounded off not even 15 minutes later. You opened the front door to see Nancy. Your bottom lip began to quiver, immediately bursting into tears. Nancy wrapped her arms around you, rubbing her hands up and down your back. 

“Does he know,” Nancy asked, pulling back to look at you.

“I wrote him a note. He’ll see it when he gets back from practice. I didn’t want to mess up his morning with the kids,” you say, voice shaky with tears.

You grabbed the black and white striped lumpy duffle bag that’s been taunting you for weeks. You turned over your shoulder to look back at the empty home, not knowing if you were going to come back, the thought scaring you. You locked the door behind you, settling into the backseat of Jonathan’s car. You watched you and Steve’s shared home get smaller and smaller into the background as the car drove farther and farther away from it. You feel like a piece of your heart was welded into every inch of that home, the empty void inside of you growing bigger. 

You closed your eyes, hoping to calm your nerves down. All you saw was your body falling from an infinite height, hoping Steve was at the bottom to catch you.

[ohwell-al]

hi everyone, quick update! i plan on uploading sometime this weekend hopefully! i’m sorry for the delay, ive been studying for finals and working a lot but i promise part 2 is actively being worked on!!! i will be tagging everyone who has asked to be tagged as well!! thank u for ur patience :P

[ohwell-al]

Falling

part 1 steve harrington x reader

word count: 8.6k

summary: your relationship with steve is tested when insecurities, jealousy, misunderstanding, and miscommunication rear their ugly heads. it felt like you were screaming through static. steve felt like he was falling from the heights you built together.

content/warnings: hurt/comfort (eventually), ANGST, insecurities, insecurity about weight, lowkey bullying, self-conscious reader, minimal amount of fluff (sorry, there will be some next part), not beta read, no upside down au, set in 1990, no y/n, baseball coach/teacher!steve, art teacher!reader, reader has hair, no detailed physical descriptions of reader, small jancy mention, small mention of blood, crying, SUPER dumb steve, let's say steve never worked at WSQK and was working at family video then :P, let me know if i missed anything

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a/n: hi everyone! this is my first ever FINISHED fic!!!! i had the idea when i listened to the new leaked 5sos song "falling" and was filled with angst inspo. i had a lot of fun writing this but i did not get it proofread so i hope y'all enjoy it still! there will be a part 2 also so don't worry, i didn't leave y'all on a cliffhanger! I'm hoping to get it out by next week! let me know what y'all think! also follow me on twitter @ DJOS0S (with a zero between the s)

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Steve was left in the wake of an empty wasteland. Atleast, that’s what you and Steve’s use-to-be-shared home felt like. He was left with a single note from you laying on the kitchen counter.

Dear Steve,

I don’t know how to go about this but I’m going to stay with Nancy and Jonathan for a couple of days. I need to figure some things out. I feel lost in this relationship, so lost.

I love you so much, more than words can say. I just need time to think.

He knew this was coming, but he told himself he was thinking too far into things. That you wouldn’t actually leave him. That you would just talk it out. He didn’t know when you were going to be back or if you’re ever going to come back. He hoped you would.

The two of you had a fight two days before you left. Your first real fight. It was big and explosive and spilling out, soaking in every crack, with the both of you not knowing how to clean it up. You both said some things, things you both wish you could take back. Insecurities and misunderstandings seeping out with nowhere to go.

You were staying with Nancy and Jonathan until you figured out an actual gameplan. You still didn’t know what you were doing. You packed up what clothes and other personal belongings you could fit in a dusty duffel bag that used to be stuffed in the far back of your shared closet. It had been taunting you for weeks. You would see it every time you searched for clothes, its black-and-white striped pattern and lumpy shape waiting for you to grab it and do what you’ve been contemplating.

You didn’t want to leave. It was thought over in your mind daily. When you woke up and before you drifted off to sleep- with Steve sleeping soundly next to you- the thought plagued your mind. The anxiety wasn’t letting up but neither was the wide open space that was hollowing out your heart. The fight was your switch.

But you loved him.

Correction: you love him. 

But he was hurting you, and you don’t even know if he knew the pain he was causing. You were constantly doubting his intention, his reasoning. If he even knew his intentions. If he even knew that he was slowly carving out a void in your body, a heavy heart plummeting deeper and deeper inside.

It started a couple months ago.

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Two Months Ago

You were standing in the bathroom, leaning over the sink to get extra close to the mirror, attempting to perfect your mascara.

You and Steve’s five-year high school reunion was tonight. Part of you wanted your former classmates to think you had a “glow up” but another part told yourself you didn’t need their approval nor opinions. Your long-term boyfriend, Steve Harrington, was the only validation you needed. 

What more could a girl ask for when you had someone like him, loving you for everything that you are, throughout the ups and downs?

You couldn’t lie to yourself, though. You were nervous. You weren’t exactly the talk-of-the-town in high school. You thought of yourself as a background character, while everyone else was the main one in their story. You didn’t know where you fit in life.

Maybe it was the teenage angst flowing through your body at the time, but the insecurities still appear now and then when you run into old classmates at the grocery store- the ones who still live in Hawkins. You weren’t one of the lucky ones to make their great escape from the small town, but being with Steve made up for it.

You were both in this together.

As you were giving yourself one last swipe of mascara and a pat of tissue on your lips to tame your cherry red lipstick, Steve came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“You look beautiful,” he says, placing his chin on your right shoulder.

You made eye contact with him through the mirror, a shy smile appearing on your face. The only way to describe Steve’s expression was pure love. 

You’ve never been looked at by someone the way Steve looks at you. At that moment, you couldn’t deny his love for you. You were his everything.

“You almost ready yet, honey,” Steve asked, his eyes attached to you in the mirror.

You reached behind his head, raking your fingers through his hair, smiling. Steve closed his eyes softly, a soft hum releasing from his lips at the feeling.

“I’m ready.”

Steve, arms still wrapped around your waist, turned you around to face him. He planted a kiss to your cherry lips, soliciting an annoyed, but loving, whine from you.

“Steve,” you pout, “I just put that on.”

You looked at him, a giggle escaping your lips, as you saw his stained with the same cherry-color.

“You look pretty,” you giggled.

Steve glanced behind you at the mirror to see the masterpiece left on his lips, puckering his lips to humor you. You gently attempted to wipe the excess off with the leftover tissue you previously used, amused by his appearance.

He stood back a few steps, his eyes raking up and down your body, taking in your beauty. Your face immediately got hot, feeling like you’re under a microscope.

“What,” you questioned, not able to make eye contact.

“I just can’t believe I got so lucky.”

“Okay, you cornball, we got somewhere to be,” rolling your eyes, trying to laugh off his compliment.

You were never good at taking compliments. Your body always had an immediate reaction, especially with Steve. He just had a way of making you feel like the only girl in the world worth his time but you had a way of responding to his loving comments with humor, trying to take away the seriousness.

Making your way out of the house, Steve locked the front door, the two of you settling into his maroon beemer. You took a deep breath as he pulled out of his parking space, making the short distance trip to Hawkins High School.

Steve pulled into a parking spot close to the front entrance. Looking around the lot, you observed the dozen other cars present.

Your nerves got the best of you at the sight, realizing that you’re going to be seen by classmates who never gave you the time of day.

You grabbed at the visor above you, looking through the tiny mirror hastily inspecting all the possible flaws you could find on your face.

“Maybe the lipstick was too much,” you said, biting at your bottom lip, eyebrows scrunching with shame.

Steve gently grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him.

“You look perfect, honey. None of these people have anything on you. I couldn’t have asked for a more beautiful woman by my side.”

You gave him a chaste peck on the lips, not wanting to smudge your lipstick and make more of a mess.

“I love you,” you said, pulling back from his lips, resisting the urge to further it into more.

“I love you more, honey.”

You and Steve exited his car, making your way to the front doors of the high school. The hallway was sprinkled with bright, white fairy lights hanging from the ceiling. The entrance of the gym was covered with black and gold balloons framing the doorway, with a big banner hanging above:

WELCOME CLASS OF 1985

Steve took hold of your hand, squeezing it once, then guiding you inside the gaudy decorated gym.

White lights scattered the ceilings, gold tinsel and garland were arranged on tables decorated with frilly centerpieces mixed with food and refreshments. A DJ was set up at the back of the gym facing the entrance- some random, old faculty member who was most likely trained to use the equipment that afternoon. The sound of “Out of Touch” by Hall and Oates echoes throughout, transitioning to “Take On Me” by a-ha. You quickly realized the setlist was old hits from 1985.

You giggled to yourself, the whole thing being extremely cheesy, easing your anxiety.

Steve perked up at the sound of “Take On Me.” You quickly remember how much he overplayed this song, still listening to it now and then on a mixtape you made for him of his favorite songs. He still loves to tell you that it’s his favorite gift he has ever gotten. You tell him he’s exaggerating every time.

Another table was set up to the left of the entrance with dozens of nametags scattered across. Each one had an old yearbook from ‘85 next to the name and you wonder if you look any different from your teenage self. Could you have changed that much?

Obviously you were going to be a little different from when you were a teenager but is it in a bad way? You didn’t really remember what you looked like then. You kind of blocked off the entire memory of high school on purpose, forgetting yourself along the way. 

You found your name tag, staring at your picture incredulously. You grabbed it quickly, not wanting Steve to see it, slightly embarrassed. It sat in your palm, wrinkling.

You spotted Steve’s name tag. Evidence of the legendary “King Steve” was staring right back at you and you began to wonder how you managed to catch his attention. You never really talked to each other in school besides the occasional class discussion in the classes you shared. 

Steve didn’t ask you out until 3 years ago, when you became a regular at Family Video. You made a New Year’s resolution to yourself that year to watch at least one movie you have never seen a week, thus making your weekly appearances catch Steve’s eye.

He remembered you from school, of course, but ever since he fell from grace and realized he really did peak in high school, he was different, changed. 

The casual (and a little awkward) flirting eventually transitioned into him asking you out on a date to daily phone calls and seeing each other almost everyday to eventually being the only person he had eyes for. 

Grabbing his nametag, you promptly removed the paper backing and stuck it onto the right side of his chest, giving it gentle pat.

“You were so cute in school,” a soft smile gracing your lips as you stared at the 5-year old picture. 

“Were?”

You tilted your head up at him, rolling your eyes, smirking.

“You’re handsome now.”

A blush appeared on Steve’s cheeks, trying to bite back a smile.

“You flatter me. Where’s yours?”

You groaned, opening your palm where the treacherous nametag laid.

“I’ve always hated this picture. I forgot it was picture day that day so I wasn’t fixed up for it. I almost skipped out on it but I know my mom would have flipped if she didn’t get any senior photos,” you said, grimacing at 17-year old you. 

You were so naive then. You wonder what changed or if you’re still the same you. 

Steve looked at the picture like it was the most amazing thing he’s ever seen. He took it between his fingers, really staring at it as if he'd discovered the most valuable gemstone in the world. 

“This is the best thing I’ve ever seen, what are you talking about? My girl was stunning then,” he said as he slowly looked up from the picture to your face, “and even more now.”

Rolling your eyes, you took the name tag from his hand and plastered it to your chest. He chuckled at your reaction, reaching for your left hand, his thumb smoothing the back of it up and down.

You examined the small details of the decorations around you, wondering how long it took everyone to put it together, and if your old history, Mrs. Click, was the one who pitched the idea to make it such an eyesore.

Distracted by your microscopic examination of a singular flickering light hanging from a string of fairy lights, you didn’t notice two former classmates approaching you and Steve. You felt his hand leave yours, making you look towards the new arrivals. You recognized the couple- you’re assuming- as Todd Michaels and Laurie Sullivan. You never had any classes with Todd but he was a part of the basketball team with Steve. And Laurie…

Laurie was one of Steve’s ex-girlfriends. Or flings? 

You never really knew what their title was. But you do know they were together for a couple of months in high school. Steve had a reputation of getting around. That was King Steve. But you had the real Steve. The Steve who loved you.

You watched as Steve gave the two quick side hugs, making small talk. Steve’s interest in the conversation seemed little to none, only wanting to be respectful. Laurie then acknowledged you, turning the conversation over. You suddenly felt like you had too many pairs of eyes on you, not really preparing for a lot of social interaction. It was Steve’s idea to come to the reunion at first. You were reluctant but wanted to make him happy. 

Laurie began to ask simple questions, wanting to know how life has been for the past five years, what jobs we have, what Hawkins is like, etc..

“How long have you two been together? I don’t recall you guys really interacting with each other in school,” Laurie questioned. Her tone seemed off, degrading, demeaning- like the idea of Steve being with you was an unfathomable concept. She played it off as an innocent question, a sly smirk gracing her face that was caked with too much setting powder. 

Steve butt in fast.

“We met when I used to work at the Family Video in town,” he looked down towards you, a smile slowly appearing as he recalled the fond memory. He always said that he fell in love with you at first sight.

You liked to tell him it’s impossible for him to have done that since it wouldn’t have technically been at first sight. You had known each other since middle school.

He liked to tease that was when he really saw you. In your own light. He was “stunned by your beauty” he says. Whatever that meant..

Steve gave a quick rundown of your “meet-cute.” Laurie then asked the one question that could make or break a couple.

“So, do you two have any kids yet? Me and Todd are planning kid number two but wanted to wait another year until Max is a bit older.”

Todd didn’t seem interested in the topic, almost like it was a touchy subject for him, too. You almost felt sorry for him. Almost. You couldn’t feel too bad for a guy who was such a major douchebag in school.

Your heart started beating rapidly. You and Steve have mentioned the possibility of kids. He’s always made it clear he wanted a big family. You would like one or two, but maybe not six, like he’s mentioned before. You told him three is your max. Steve says he’s okay with any amount, as long as he gets to have them with you. But the idea is still scary. You’ve always worried that you wouldn’t do a good job as a mother. What if you’re not cut out for it? What if the stress gets to you? What if Steve suddenly changes his mind about wanting kids? What if you change your mind about wanting kids?

The list went on and on in your head.

Steve felt your hand gripping his tighter, a cue that you didn’t know how to interject into the conversation.

“We want kids, for sure. In the future, maybe,” Steve replied, squeezing your hand back- a way for him to tell you that it’s okay.

Laurie’s face morphed into shock.

“Wait, you don’t have any already?”

“Oh, no. Not yet. It’s just the two of us for now.”

Steve looked like he was slowly checking out of the conversation. Ways to make his great escape from the couple and make your rounds around the gym scattered through his head. But you didn’t see that. You started zoning out, letting him take control of the conversation. These were people you never spoke to in school and they never spoke to you. You were on the opposite side of the popularity spectrum. You don’t even know if they remember you. You wouldn’t be surprised.

You heard a sly giggle escape Laurie’s mouth. It made  you look towards her, your focus now on lock. You could hear Todd say something under his breath, though you’re not able to clearly make out what it was. He looks annoyed at Laurie. 

“Oh, I just assumed that you’ve already had a baby because, I mean,” she paused, trying to bite back a smirk but failing. You saw her eyes looking you up and down, but not in a good way. She’s looking at you like you’re a foreign specimen.

“Laurie,” you heard Todd grumble beside her, a way for him to tell her to stop before she started something.

“I just assumed you’ve already carried a baby.” Laurie turned her focus away from you towards Todd and Steve, talking as if you weren’t there anymore, “She’s gained a bit of weight since high school.”

Your blood ran cold. Heart stilling for just a second.

Of course you’re not the same weight as you were when you were 17 but you didn’t think you changed that much.

Steve interjected, though your focus was on the back wall behind the couple, not paying attention to Steve’s affect or the fact that he was barely listening to what Laurie was saying. Your eyes glazed over with Laurie’s words bouncing off of your ears.

“Yeah, yeah. Anyway, it was really nice talking to you guys. We’ll see you around.”

Your ears perked up at Steve’s comment.

Yeah, yeah.

The word hammered into your brain.

Yeah

Your ears started ringing. Your insecurities getting the best of you. You’ve always felt a little subconscious about your physical appearance, constantly having to tell yourself that bodies are always changing. But that never helped calm the nagging voice in your head that despite it all, Steve might not want you anymore one day.

Yeah, sure, you could also tell yourself you should never care what a man thinks about you, but it’s Steve, your Steve. If there’s anyone out there that you cared what they think about you, it’s him. So the idea of him agreeing with Laurie Sullivan, a girl who he used to date. A girl he used to be attracted to. A girl he could still be attracted to. The thought made you nauseous.

Lost in thought, you blindly followed Steve’s lead hand-in-hand as he walked towards a table with drinks and snacks. He grabbed two cups, filling them with some kind of punch. He tried to hand a drink towards you but your mind was elsewhere. Your face was stoic, eyes glazed over. He took notice quickly.

 “Hey, are you okay,” he asked, concern lacing his voice. He bent down slightly so the two of you were face-to-face, catching your eyes.

You shook yourself out of your thoughts, giving him a quick but small smile.

“Yes,” grabbing the drink from his hand, “I’m okay. Just distracted by all of the decorations.”

Steve’s eyebrows furrow, like he didn’t fully believe you, but nevertheless he didn’t press on.

The rest of the night went by in a haze, quickly dissociating the rest of the event. Steve made small talk with former classmates and friends, while you nodded your head to pretend like you were paying attention to what was said. Simple yes’s and no’s were all that would come out of you, too distracted with your own thoughts. Every now and then, Steve would make quick glances at you, worry slowly etching his face. You’re more quiet than usual. He thought to himself that it might just be your nerves getting to you. You were never the best at large events. It took time for you to come out of your shell with him before fully expressing how loud your laugh can be and how wide your smile is.

You were quiet the entire drive back home, Steve’s right hand resting on your thigh, making small circles with his thumb. The ride was short, but every now and then he would look over at you. You were staring at the window, trying to distract yourself from your mind with the bland scenery of Hawkins.

Once settled inside the house, you kicked off your heels by the front door, walking towards the bathroom. Steve grabbed your wrist, pulling you towards him.

He softly brushed a few strands of hair out of face, cradling your cheeks.

“Hey,” he says quietly, barely above a whisper, “Are you sure you’re okay? You got quiet on me back there.”

You hesitated for a second, deciding between telling him the truth or stuffing it into the back of your mind, not wanting to confront him and start an issue. You and Steve rarely actually fought. You would bicker back and forth sometimes about minuscule things like who’s turn it is to wash the dishes or his bad habit of hogging the covers at night. But never an actual fight. That’s why you loved him so much. He made everything feel so easy. He made it seem so easy for him to love you.

Deep down, you were battling with yourself. 

You decided to leave it alone.

“I’m fine. It was just a lot of socializing. I think my social battery died fast,” you said, giving him a fake smile, hoping it seemed genuine enough for him not to press on. “I’m gonna hop in the shower, wash all this makeup off, okay?”

“Want me to join you,” Steve asks, his eyebrows quirking up, smirking.

You replied a little too quickly, almost showing your reserve.

“No! I mean, I need to shave my legs and you know how small the shower is with two people in there. I’ll be quick, promise.”

His cheeky face slowly dropped, confusion at your demeanor.

“That’s fine, honey. I’ll be here when you get out.”

You did not take a quick shower. It almost felt cliché, like some teen high school movie where the female main character sits at the bottom of the bathtub, letting the shower rain over her. But that’s exactly what you were doing. It was better than standing up and having a full view of your body.

She’s gained a bit of weight since high school.

Yeah.

It felt like nails in your head. You tried to rationalize Steve’s response. Maybe he misheard her? No, the shrill of her voice was pretty clear, even through the sound of “Careless Whisper” piercing and echoing throughout the gym. Maybe he didn’t care about your weight? Still, it didn’t need to be pointed out and agreed on. You felt shameful, like you were back in middle school getting picked on.

You didn’t know how long you were in there. You usually took long showers anyway, so it gave you a good excuse.

You quickly got changed, having brought a pair of pajamas in the bathroom with you.

Steve was already settled into bed when you emerged from the bathroom, watching a rerun of Family Matters. He turned his head towards you, patting your spot on the bed beckoning you over. You laid on the bed, trying to quickly go to sleep, hoping you wake up realizing it was all just a nightmare. That nothing that happened tonight actually happened. Steve cuddled up behind you, his arm draping over your body, pulling you close to his chest. This was how the two of you usually ended up. But this time, having him touching your body, your stomach, it made your stomach churn, your heart race. You hoped he didn’t notice. But another part hoped he did. 

˚　✦　.　　. 　 ˚　.　 . ✦　˚　 . ★⋆. ࿐˚　✦　.　　. 　 ˚　.　 . ✦　˚　 . ★⋆

The following weeks didn’t help settle your doubts, it only made them worse. You began to question things you hadn’t before, things catching your attention that you’ve never noticed until now. Things part of you wished you stayed oblivious to. An angry ball of jealousy building up inside of you.

You were the art teacher at Hawkins Middle School, so you had many students who were a part of the little league baseball team that Steve coached for. The field was set outside of the school, giving you ample opportunity to watch their games after work.

However, you began to notice things. Flirting.

The constant flirting.

Not done by Steve directly, of course. By the mothers. But the fact that he wouldn’t stop them made it worse. He’s allowing it. Each game you’ve gone to for the past month, you’ve had to listen to what they say about him. What they say about you. How they talk to him, and he lets them. You don’t know how much longer you could swallow the lump that grew in your throat each time.

But every time you tried to hold your tears back in front of him, you ended up spilling them in the bathroom at home. You’ve resorted to crying in the shower, hoping the sound of the water muffles you. There has only been one time that you think Steve heard you.

˚　✦　.　　. 　 ˚　.　 . ✦　˚　 . ★⋆. ࿐˚　✦　.　　. 　 ˚　.　 . ✦　˚　 . ★⋆

Letting the shower fall over your back, crouched down in the bottom of the bath tub. The sound of sniffling and subtle sobs were interrupted by the sound of knocking on the bathroom door. It slowly creaked open, Steve peaking his head through the crack.

“Honey, are you okay? I thought I heard crying,” concern lacing his voice.

You sniffled, “No, I’m okay.”

“Are you sure?”

You paused, contemplating telling the truth and dealing with the confrontation, even if it confirmed your doubts.

“Yes, Steve, I’m okay. I-,” you stutter, “I promise.”

“Okay, honey. I’ll be here when you’re done. I love you.”

He waited for your response.

“I love you, too,” you sniffled.

Steve closed the door, leaving you to let the tears that were building up escape your eyes.

Steve was confused. He knew you were crying. He heard you, he just didn’t know why. You weren’t talking to him. 

He felt like he was missing something. What weren’t you telling him?

˚　✦　.　　. 　 ˚　.　 . ✦　˚　 . ★⋆. ࿐˚　✦　.　　. 　 ˚　.　 . ✦　˚　 . ★⋆

That was two weeks ago.

After a grueling day of class and putting up the rest of the clay creations on a rack to dry that your students have been working on for two weeks now, you took a peek out of one of your classroom windows. You had a perfect view of the baseball field, seeing Steve round up the kids in the dugout and parents slowly gathering into the stands.

A smile slowly graced your face, forgetting for a second. You’ve been slowly trying to get yourself to get over what’s happened, playing it off that it isn’t that big of a deal.

Laurie.

The moms.

It’s fine, you tell yourself.

You can get over it.

You can totally get over it.

Maybe if you kept telling yourself that, you eventually would.

You grabbed your bag from your desk, locking up your classroom. You began making the short trek to the baseball field, catching the sun slowly beginning to set. It was spring but Indiana weather made it seem like it was still the edge of winter. A crisp breeze sprayed your hair to the side, your fingers quickly reaching up to tame it. You would have brought a thicker sweater if you knew it was going to be so windy, but nevertheless bundled up with what you had.

You reached the gates of the field, eyeing for a spot in the stands. Spotting a free row at the top of the bleachers, you made your way up the metal steps. You were at the seats closer to the dugout, giving you a good view of Steve.

He was in his usual baby blue coaching uniform, giving a motivational pep talk to the boys. As the boys took their positions, Steve and another coach stood outside of the dugout, making sure the kids were in their correct spots.

Steve was glancing around the stands, almost like he was looking for someone specific.

When he spotted you, a wide grin grew on his face, giving you a quick wink. You gave him a quick wave, before his attention moved back to the game.

As the game progresses, your attention began to be skewed by the comments being made by a few women sitting below you.

“I love Timmy but I can’t help but find some of these games to be so boring. The only thing keeping me entertained is Coach Steve over there.”

“Oh, yes, I know right! He’s definitely a sight for sore eyes.”

“You think he’s single?”

“There’s no way! Someone as good looking as him?”

“I don’t see a ring on his finger, so he can’t be that committed.”

“Isn’t he dating the middle school art teacher? What’s her name…”

“Is he?! I mean I’m sure he’s a nice guy but is he that nice?”

“Seems like charity work to me. Maybe they’re just really close friends.”

The ladies began snickering, trying to muffle their obnoxious laughter at their poor taste in jokes. It’s clear they didn’t see you, or else they wouldn’t be so blatant about their opinion of you. If Laurie Sullivvan’s comment didn’t make you feel like an eyesore, the women sitting before you made sure to.

You didn’t want to cry. You didn’t want them to make you feel like this. Steve is with you. He loves you. 

Right?

You shook your head, trying to shake the negative thoughts flying through your mind, doubt that was building up inside you, adding to the doubt that’s been slowly making your brain their home. The lump in your throat was slowly growing bigger and bigger, wanting to make its escape. You told yourself you’re lucky it was spring. You could blame your watery, red eyes on allergies.

By the end of the game, all the parents and family members began gathering out of their seats, making their way to the field to find their kids. You waited a bit until the main crowd had left their seats, using the time to collect yourself before you met up with Steve.

Making your way down the steps, you reached the gate entry by the dugout. Before you made your way onto the field, you spotted Steve talking to one of the moms. One of the moms who had a lot of opinions about you just a couple of hours ago.

This was the usual routine, though you’ve started to believe the moms have been taking turns to talk to him after the Friday night games.

You could feel your stomach tie itself in a tight knot at the sight of the woman obviously flirting with Steve. You couldn’t quite hear every word they were saying, only glimpses.

The woman wasn’t ugly. You had to admit to yourself that she was awfully pretty. Maybe too pretty. Her skin was sunkissed perfectly, her long, dark hair cascading over her shoulders. She looked like she came off of the cover of Vogue.

Steve was smiling, laughing off whatever the mother was saying. You couldn’t tell if he was smiling because he’s enjoying it or if he was just trying to appease her. Either way, the thought made  you sick.

That is, until the woman reached up and slowly rubbed up and down Steve’s upper arm. But it didn’t last more than a couple of seconds before the loud creak of the gate door you began to lean on- your ears buzzing- sounded off. The two quickly looked towards you, Steve’s face lighting up. The woman dropped her hand, staring daggers as Steve walked towards you.

“Hi, honey.”

Steve approached you with open arms, pulling you into a suffocating hug. He pulled back just enough to see your face, not able to help the smile creeping up despite what you had to witness seconds before.

“Did you enjoy the game?”

The woman was still standing near, flicking her eyes back and forth between you and Steve. You couldn’t seem to decipher her face but you assumed she wasn’t pleased.

Your eyes flicked towards her, clearing your throat before turning back to Steve. Your smile never quite reached your eyes. You hoped he noticed.

You also hoped he didn’t.

“Uh, yeah,” feigning excitement, “you guys did really good! It was such a close game.”

The woman next to you rolled her eyes, murmuring something under her breath, and walked away.

Steve paid no mind to it. His focus was on you.

Your focus was on the dirt, the edges of your sneakers stained red from it.

You looked back up at him, faking a tight-lipped smile.

“You ready to head home? I was thinking we do takeout tonight if that’s okay with you, honey.”

“Takeout sounds good.”

“Lemme go grab my stuff and I’ll meet you in the car.”

You and Steve always carpool to work together. It only makes sense since you both work at the same school.

Steve got the coaching job (and sex-ed teaching job) a year after you started working at the middle school. It came at a surprise for the both of you, but it also seemed fitting. Steve has always been so good with kids and it was evident by his relationship with the younger half of the group, especially Dustin.

As soon as Steve turned around, your smile dropped. You walked towards his car in the staff parking lot, fiddling with your fingers. It’s always been an anxious tic of yours, but it’s better than you biting your nails so far down, your skin begins to bleed. Steve helped you fight that habit, forcing you to put bandaids on all ten of your fingers so you can’t chew on them when your anxiety spikes.

However, you couldn’t stop the repetitive voices in your mind telling you he deserved better. Someone prettier, someone more outgoing, someone who could bring him the ultimate happiness. Someone others wouldn’t doubt that he could really want to be with.

I mean, there has to be something wrong with me if there are so many people who don’t see me as good enough for him.

You’ve always felt a little insecure about yourself, you think. The “normal” amount of insecure that people felt. But you were starting to feel it in heavier doses now. You felt like you were going insane. Were the moms always like this with him? Have you just been missing it, not thinking to notice it? Why wouldn’t he tell them he has you? Does he even mention you? Does he mention you to anyone?

You didn’t notice your fingers starting to bleed as you started to chew on the nails, on the skin around them. You looked up to Steve’s voice approaching you.

“Sorry I took so lo- honey, your fingers.”

You removed your pointer finger from your mouth, looking down at the red, torn up mess you made, your hands slightly trembling- though it could be from both the anxiety blooming through you and the pain you were now starting to feel in the aftermath. 

“Shit,” you muttered

“Baby, I thought you stopped doing this months ago,” Steve said softly, taking hold of your shaking hand. 

“I didn’t even realize. I-,” you paused, watching him as he grabs a rag from his duffle bag, wrapping it around your fingers, “I’m sorry. I think I’ve just had a weird day.”

“We can talk about it when we get home, okay?”

Steve grabbed the sides of your head before planting a kiss to the top of it. He grabbed your good hand, leading you to his car.

The drive home was silent. Your drives home have been silent a lot lately, especially after the baseball games. You didn’t know if Steve had noticed this change. If he has, he hasn’t bothered to bring it up.

Entering the house, Steve made his way to the bathroom, grabbing a pack of bandaids and ointment. Walking back out, he gestured to you to come towards him in the kitchen, sitting at a small dining table only fit for two.

He slowly began to put healing ointment on your chewed-on fingers. Your eyes stayed focused on his gentle movements, too anxious to look up at him. You didn’t want to deal with the confrontation. The confrontation that he’s going to ask about when you started back up on the bad habit. You didn’t want to admit that it started after the class reunion incident.

The Laurie incident.

You felt embarrassed, ashamed. You felt like a little kid, letting others’ actions hurt you as much as they did.

The room stayed silent for a couple of minutes but to you, it feels like hours. The awkward air, the obvious tension, words left unsaid.

“So,” Steve started, “are you going to let me know when you started doing this again or?”

You doubt he meant it to sound condescending, but you felt like you were a little girl who just got caught sneaking into your mom’s makeup.

You stayed quiet for a couple of seconds before opening and closing your mouth, your brain telling you to speak and your anxiety shutting you up. You tried again.

“She was flirting with you,” you muttered under your breath, voice barely above a whisper. You refused to look at Steve, maintaining eye contact with your hand as it’s being held in his, pausing his movement and setting down the ointment onto the table with his other.

“What?”

Steve’s voice sounded confused, like he didn’t know who “she” was or what you were talking about in general.

You exhaled through your nose, closing your eyes for a second and slowly removing your hand from his. You laid your hands in your lap, your good hand slowly being picked at by your bad hand, the greasy ointment transferring in process. Steve’s eyes locked on your hands.

“Nothing, nevermind.” You sounded defeated. It felt pointless. It was just jealousy speaking. Right?

You got up from the chair, making your way to the bedroom.

“Wait,” Steve said getting up from the chair, “honey, I’m just confused.”

You paused by the doorway.

“Confused by what?”

 “You just said ‘she was flirting with you’? Who are you talking about?”

You turned around to face him, still keeping your distance. A look of pure confusion was etched on Steve’s face. You didn’t know whether to be more upset about the actual situation or the fact that he was acting clueless about it. It was so obvious what that mother’s intentions were. You’re not dumb.

“That woman. At the game. She was flirting with you,” you spoke in broken sentences, hoping to make your point clear and maybe jog his memory of the incident that happened not even an hour ago.

“What woma-,” Steve’s face morphed like he finally understood what you meant, “oh, honey.”

He was smiling.

Why was he smiling? Did he think this was amusing to you? You hadn’t gotten the joke yet.

“Baby, she was harmless,” he said, leaning against the kitchen counter, “we were talking about how good her kid is getting at pitching. You know Michael. He’s in your art class right?”

“She was rubbing your arm, Steve,” your voice evident with annoyance. You couldn’t understand how he didn’t see what was wrong.

“She was just being friendly, okay? You know how the moms are, honey. I can’t be rude to them.”

Your eyebrows scrunched at his words.

You know how the moms are, honey.

What is that supposed to mean?

“No, Steve, I actually don’t know ‘how the moms are’,” you made air quotes with your fingers before crossing your arms, “enlighten me.”

Steve’s feet shifted, standing up straight, clearing his throat.

“They’re just…like that, you know?”

He’s clearly dodging the question. You’re staring daggers at him.

Steve sighed  hard, rubbing a hand through his hair, needing to do something with his hands.

“Okay, yes, they can get flirty sometimes, but it doesn’t mean anything, honey. I’m not doing anything back.”

You could feel heat rising inside of you, your fingers twitching at your sides.

“You’re not really stopping them, either, Steve. All I’m getting from this is that this isn’t a new thing and you’re just letting these random women flirt with you, and you what? Expect me to tolerate that? Because you can’t ‘be rude to them’, is that it?”

You could hear your voice rising, your patience wearing so thin, you could feel it cracking.

Steve looked like a child being scolded. You felt like a mother scolding her child. It shouldn’t feel like this.

The fact that he was well aware of this behavior and he wouldn’t stop it, angered you more. It felt like he wanted the attention, like he craved it. Your mind went directly to how he was when he was in high school, receiving attention from girls left and right. Did he want to go back to that? Did he miss the attention? Is your’s not enough for him anymore?

The only sound you could hear was your own heartbeat drumming in your ears. You refused to look at Steve, your head hanging low.. You could feel his eyes on you.

“Am I not enough for you anymore?”

Your voice was shaking. You had to force the words out. Your eyes began to sting with tears threatening to spill. You didn’t want to cry. You didn’t want him to pity you, you just wanted him to listen.

Steve was shocked at your words. His eyes looked bugged out. He could hear your voice shaking, your chest unevenly moving up and down.

“Baby, what are you talking about? What is going on?”

Steve took a step towards you. You took a step back.

“Am I not good enough for you, Steve?” You looked up at him, your lips turned downward, eyebrows scrunched together like you’re in pain.

“Baby, you’re more than enough for me,” Steve stutters, “I don’t know where this is coming from all of a sudden.”

You scoffed, shaking your head in disbelief.

“I feel like I’m dating King Steve.”

That nickname leaving your lips stopped Steve in his tracks. You continued.

“I’m having to hear and watch these women throw themselves at you and you don’t do anything about it. You just-,” you pause, trying to find the right words, “you let them. You’re not setting any boundaries despite being with me.” You pointed towards yourself.

“You’re with me,” your lips trembling, a tear falling down your cheek. “It doesn’t feel like I fully have you. It feels like I’m having to compete for you and prove that I’m even worthy of your time. That it’s a shock that you would want to be with me. In here, I have you, I have you all to myself. But out there,” you pointed outwards, “I feel like I have to share you.”

Steve looked shattered. He was at a loss for words, feeling like no matter what he could say, it wouldn’t fix the pain that he caused.

He took a step forward, arms reaching out for you. 

“Honey, I-I love you,” his voice cracking.

You wiped the tears falling down your cheeks, hands shaking.

“Do you?”

Steve was taken aback by your question, his feet glued to the floor. He couldn’t believe you would question that, question something that he was so sure of himself. It felt like the floor was falling apart underneath him, crumbling to the ground.

“Of course I do,” he gasped, breathless. He could see your body softly shaking, quiet hiccups and sobs coursing through you. 

“Am I not pretty to you anymore? Or was I ever? I just- I feel like I’m competing with women who are on a different level than me, Steve. I’m not them, I-I’m average and you can do so much better than average.” You start rambling on, Steve trying to butt in between your short pauses, taking a few steps closer to you, but not wanting to go over a boundary you have clearly placed between you.

“Baby-”

“-I mean, I supposedly also gained a noticeable amount of weight that I had to hear stupid Laurie Sullivan point out-”

“Baby, can you please just let me-”

“-and you had to agree with her!”

Steve’s mouth was agape, shock written all over his face. Your breathing was heavy, chest moving up and down rapidly like you just finished running a marathon. Your face was soaked with tears, red and blotchy. But you were angry. You were so incredibly angry. 

Angry about Laurie, angry about it ruining that night, angry that it cut you so deep, you began to watch what you ate. You were also angry about those mothers flirting with Steve so callously, even though they knew he was with you. However, you were really angry at Steve. Angry that he just let them. He let them, and expected you to tolerate it.

The house was silent. The only noise that could be heard were your own heartbeat and a neighbor’s dog barking outside. You didn’t want to speak first. You were so tired of speaking first. You let everything out of you, all of the thoughts that have been brewing and marinating inside of you. You felt like a deflated balloon and you didn’t know how to get the air back in. It felt suffocating.

But deep down inside, Steve genuinely had no idea what you were talking about. He would have never pointed out your weight like that. Hell, he would never point out anyone’s flaws, and definitely not yours. He thought you were flawless. He was rummaging his brain to recall the events of that night to see if he could remember exactly the conversation between him and Laurie.

You broke eye contact with Steve, looking at your feet, defeated. You took a shaky deep breath.

“I’m going to go to bed, Steve,” you sighed, wanting this to be done with for now. You began to turn around until you felt Steve’s hand wrap around your wrist, stopping you. You refused to look at him. You could feel his eyes burning a hole through your face.

“Wait, please, I don’t want you going to bed upset. Especially because of me.”

“We can talk about it tomorrow,” you said quietly, though you knew you were lying to him.

Steve always had Saturday morning practice with the kids. You decided then and there, you were going to pack a small bag and stay at Nancy and Jonathan’s for a couple of days after he left- just enough time to cool down and collect your thoughts and maybe, just maybe,  figure out what’s going to happen with your relationship. The thought made you nauseous but you knew it was needed. This would be the first time in two years that you and Steve would spend apart. You’ve been attached to the hip ever since he asked if you’d like to live together.

He let go of your arm, watching as you went inside the bedroom. He stayed in the living room, sitting on the couch, staring at a blank wall. As the night went on and the sound of crickets chirping and the neighbor’s dog still barking, Steve headed for bed himself. He walked into the dark room, seeing your figure curled into bed. He stood in the doorway admiring you. But as quick as his admiration came, so did the feeling of his now heavy heart. 

Steve tucked in next to you, wanting to reach out to bring you closer to him, but knowing he should give you some space. He watched as your chest rose with each breath you took, before falling asleep himself. You were awake, though, hoping he didn’t notice. You could feel his eyes in the back of your head, could feel his self-conscious movements.

When the sun rose, you could feel Steve slowly getting out of bed. Every morning, he would reach over and kiss you on top of your head. You felt his lips meet your temple, your eyes squeezing shut, pretending to be asleep. He stayed there for a few seconds longer than usual, like he sensed what was to come, almost savoring the moment. 

His presence emanated through the house as he got ready- the shower running, his clothes rustling as he put them on, his steps throughout the house that you could recognize as his without seeing him, the smell of coffee brewing, the clinking of a spoon as he stirred the cup of coffee (a splash of heavy cream with 4 packets of sugar, he liked it sweet), and finally, the front door closing with a lock and the sound of the gravel driveway crunching as he pulled away.

That was your cue. You walked to the phone hanging off of the kitchen wall, dialing Nancy’s home phone, hoping at least her or Jonathan were home to pick up.

“Please pick up, pick up-,” you muttered to yourself.

On the fourth ring, the phone clicked, and the sound of Nancy’s voice rang through.

“Hello?”

A sigh left your mouth, not realizing you were holding your breath.

“Nance, hey, I have a favor to ask.”

You gave Nancy a quick rundown over what has happened the past two months, tears welling up in your eyes too fast before you could hold them back. The memories still fresh and vivid, emotions you’ve had to settle within you instead of blowing up like a timebomb waiting to detonate.

But of course, Nancy was your best friend, so obviously she understood. She would do anything for you and vice versa. 

The sound of a car running and door closing sounded off not even 15 minutes later. You opened the front door to see Nancy. Your bottom lip began to quiver, immediately bursting into tears. Nancy wrapped her arms around you, rubbing her hands up and down your back. 

“Does he know,” Nancy asked, pulling back to look at you.

“I wrote him a note. He’ll see it when he gets back from practice. I didn’t want to mess up his morning with the kids,” you say, voice shaky with tears.

You grabbed the black and white striped lumpy duffle bag that’s been taunting you for weeks. You turned over your shoulder to look back at the empty home, not knowing if you were going to come back, the thought scaring you. You locked the door behind you, settling into the backseat of Jonathan’s car. You watched you and Steve’s shared home get smaller and smaller into the background as the car drove farther and farther away from it. You feel like a piece of your heart was welded into every inch of that home, the empty void inside of you growing bigger. 

You closed your eyes, hoping to calm your nerves down. All you saw was your body falling from an infinite height, hoping Steve was at the bottom to catch you.

[ohwell-al]

Neeeeed part 2 of falling plssss

i plan on posting part 2 sometime next week! if anyone wants to be tagged in it, please comment

[ohwell-al]

Falling

part 1 part 2 here steve harrington x reader

word count: 8.6k

summary: your relationship with steve is tested when insecurities, jealousy, misunderstanding, and miscommunication rear their ugly heads. it felt like you were screaming through static. steve felt like he was falling from the heights you built together.

content/warnings: hurt/comfort (eventually), ANGST, insecurities, insecurity about weight, lowkey bullying, self-conscious reader, minimal amount of fluff (sorry, there will be some next part), not beta read, no upside down au, set in 1990, no y/n, baseball coach/teacher!steve, art teacher!reader, reader has hair, no detailed physical descriptions of reader, small jancy mention, small mention of blood, crying, SUPER dumb steve, let's say steve never worked at WSQK and was working at family video then :P, let me know if i missed anything

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a/n: hi everyone! this is my first ever FINISHED fic!!!! i had the idea when i listened to the new leaked 5sos song "falling" and was filled with angst inspo. i had a lot of fun writing this but i did not get it proofread so i hope y'all enjoy it still! there will be a part 2 also so don't worry, i didn't leave y'all on a cliffhanger! I'm hoping to get it out by next week! let me know what y'all think! also follow me on twitter @ DJOS0S (with a zero between the s)

˚　✦　.　　. 　 ˚　.　 . ✦　˚　 . ★⋆. ࿐˚　✦　.　　. 　 ˚　.　 . ✦　˚　 . ★⋆

Steve was left in the wake of an empty wasteland. Atleast, that’s what you and Steve’s use-to-be-shared home felt like. He was left with a single note from you laying on the kitchen counter.

Dear Steve,

I don’t know how to go about this but I’m going to stay with Nancy and Jonathan for a couple of days. I need to figure some things out. I feel lost in this relationship, so lost.

I love you so much, more than words can say. I just need time to think.

He knew this was coming, but he told himself he was thinking too far into things. That you wouldn’t actually leave him. That you would just talk it out. He didn’t know when you were going to be back or if you’re ever going to come back. He hoped you would.

The two of you had a fight two days before you left. Your first real fight. It was big and explosive and spilling out, soaking in every crack, with the both of you not knowing how to clean it up. You both said some things, things you both wish you could take back. Insecurities and misunderstandings seeping out with nowhere to go.

You were staying with Nancy and Jonathan until you figured out an actual gameplan. You still didn’t know what you were doing. You packed up what clothes and other personal belongings you could fit in a dusty duffel bag that used to be stuffed in the far back of your shared closet. It had been taunting you for weeks. You would see it every time you searched for clothes, its black-and-white striped pattern and lumpy shape waiting for you to grab it and do what you’ve been contemplating.

You didn’t want to leave. It was thought over in your mind daily. When you woke up and before you drifted off to sleep- with Steve sleeping soundly next to you- the thought plagued your mind. The anxiety wasn’t letting up but neither was the wide open space that was hollowing out your heart. The fight was your switch.

But you loved him.

Correction: you love him. 

But he was hurting you, and you don’t even know if he knew the pain he was causing. You were constantly doubting his intention, his reasoning. If he even knew his intentions. If he even knew that he was slowly carving out a void in your body, a heavy heart plummeting deeper and deeper inside.

It started a couple months ago.

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Two Months Ago

You were standing in the bathroom, leaning over the sink to get extra close to the mirror, attempting to perfect your mascara.

You and Steve’s five-year high school reunion was tonight. Part of you wanted your former classmates to think you had a “glow up” but another part told yourself you didn’t need their approval nor opinions. Your long-term boyfriend, Steve Harrington, was the only validation you needed. 

What more could a girl ask for when you had someone like him, loving you for everything that you are, throughout the ups and downs?

You couldn’t lie to yourself, though. You were nervous. You weren’t exactly the talk-of-the-town in high school. You thought of yourself as a background character, while everyone else was the main one in their story. You didn’t know where you fit in life.

Maybe it was the teenage angst flowing through your body at the time, but the insecurities still appear now and then when you run into old classmates at the grocery store- the ones who still live in Hawkins. You weren’t one of the lucky ones to make their great escape from the small town, but being with Steve made up for it.

You were both in this together.

As you were giving yourself one last swipe of mascara and a pat of tissue on your lips to tame your cherry red lipstick, Steve came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“You look beautiful,” he says, placing his chin on your right shoulder.

You made eye contact with him through the mirror, a shy smile appearing on your face. The only way to describe Steve’s expression was pure love. 

You’ve never been looked at by someone the way Steve looks at you. At that moment, you couldn’t deny his love for you. You were his everything.

“You almost ready yet, honey,” Steve asked, his eyes attached to you in the mirror.

You reached behind his head, raking your fingers through his hair, smiling. Steve closed his eyes softly, a soft hum releasing from his lips at the feeling.

“I’m ready.”

Steve, arms still wrapped around your waist, turned you around to face him. He planted a kiss to your cherry lips, soliciting an annoyed, but loving, whine from you.

“Steve,” you pout, “I just put that on.”

You looked at him, a giggle escaping your lips, as you saw his stained with the same cherry-color.

“You look pretty,” you giggled.

Steve glanced behind you at the mirror to see the masterpiece left on his lips, puckering his lips to humor you. You gently attempted to wipe the excess off with the leftover tissue you previously used, amused by his appearance.

He stood back a few steps, his eyes raking up and down your body, taking in your beauty. Your face immediately got hot, feeling like you’re under a microscope.

“What,” you questioned, not able to make eye contact.

“I just can’t believe I got so lucky.”

“Okay, you cornball, we got somewhere to be,” rolling your eyes, trying to laugh off his compliment.

You were never good at taking compliments. Your body always had an immediate reaction, especially with Steve. He just had a way of making you feel like the only girl in the world worth his time but you had a way of responding to his loving comments with humor, trying to take away the seriousness.

Making your way out of the house, Steve locked the front door, the two of you settling into his maroon beemer. You took a deep breath as he pulled out of his parking space, making the short distance trip to Hawkins High School.

Steve pulled into a parking spot close to the front entrance. Looking around the lot, you observed the dozen other cars present.

Your nerves got the best of you at the sight, realizing that you’re going to be seen by classmates who never gave you the time of day.

You grabbed at the visor above you, looking through the tiny mirror hastily inspecting all the possible flaws you could find on your face.

“Maybe the lipstick was too much,” you said, biting at your bottom lip, eyebrows scrunching with shame.

Steve gently grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him.

“You look perfect, honey. None of these people have anything on you. I couldn’t have asked for a more beautiful woman by my side.”

You gave him a chaste peck on the lips, not wanting to smudge your lipstick and make more of a mess.

“I love you,” you said, pulling back from his lips, resisting the urge to further it into more.

“I love you more, honey.”

You and Steve exited his car, making your way to the front doors of the high school. The hallway was sprinkled with bright, white fairy lights hanging from the ceiling. The entrance of the gym was covered with black and gold balloons framing the doorway, with a big banner hanging above:

WELCOME CLASS OF 1985

Steve took hold of your hand, squeezing it once, then guiding you inside the gaudy decorated gym.

White lights scattered the ceilings, gold tinsel and garland were arranged on tables decorated with frilly centerpieces mixed with food and refreshments. A DJ was set up at the back of the gym facing the entrance- some random, old faculty member who was most likely trained to use the equipment that afternoon. The sound of “Out of Touch” by Hall and Oates echoes throughout, transitioning to “Take On Me” by a-ha. You quickly realized the setlist was old hits from 1985.

You giggled to yourself, the whole thing being extremely cheesy, easing your anxiety.

Steve perked up at the sound of “Take On Me.” You quickly remember how much he overplayed this song, still listening to it now and then on a mixtape you made for him of his favorite songs. He still loves to tell you that it’s his favorite gift he has ever gotten. You tell him he’s exaggerating every time.

Another table was set up to the left of the entrance with dozens of nametags scattered across. Each one had an old yearbook from ‘85 next to the name and you wonder if you look any different from your teenage self. Could you have changed that much?

Obviously you were going to be a little different from when you were a teenager but is it in a bad way? You didn’t really remember what you looked like then. You kind of blocked off the entire memory of high school on purpose, forgetting yourself along the way. 

You found your name tag, staring at your picture incredulously. You grabbed it quickly, not wanting Steve to see it, slightly embarrassed. It sat in your palm, wrinkling.

You spotted Steve’s name tag. Evidence of the legendary “King Steve” was staring right back at you and you began to wonder how you managed to catch his attention. You never really talked to each other in school besides the occasional class discussion in the classes you shared. 

Steve didn’t ask you out until 3 years ago, when you became a regular at Family Video. You made a New Year’s resolution to yourself that year to watch at least one movie you have never seen a week, thus making your weekly appearances catch Steve’s eye.

He remembered you from school, of course, but ever since he fell from grace and realized he really did peak in high school, he was different, changed. 

The casual (and a little awkward) flirting eventually transitioned into him asking you out on a date to daily phone calls and seeing each other almost everyday to eventually being the only person he had eyes for. 

Grabbing his nametag, you promptly removed the paper backing and stuck it onto the right side of his chest, giving it gentle pat.

“You were so cute in school,” a soft smile gracing your lips as you stared at the 5-year old picture. 

“Were?”

You tilted your head up at him, rolling your eyes, smirking.

“You’re handsome now.”

A blush appeared on Steve’s cheeks, trying to bite back a smile.

“You flatter me. Where’s yours?”

You groaned, opening your palm where the treacherous nametag laid.

“I’ve always hated this picture. I forgot it was picture day that day so I wasn’t fixed up for it. I almost skipped out on it but I know my mom would have flipped if she didn’t get any senior photos,” you said, grimacing at 17-year old you. 

You were so naive then. You wonder what changed or if you’re still the same you. 

Steve looked at the picture like it was the most amazing thing he’s ever seen. He took it between his fingers, really staring at it as if he'd discovered the most valuable gemstone in the world. 

“This is the best thing I’ve ever seen, what are you talking about? My girl was stunning then,” he said as he slowly looked up from the picture to your face, “and even more now.”

Rolling your eyes, you took the name tag from his hand and plastered it to your chest. He chuckled at your reaction, reaching for your left hand, his thumb smoothing the back of it up and down.

You examined the small details of the decorations around you, wondering how long it took everyone to put it together, and if your old history, Mrs. Click, was the one who pitched the idea to make it such an eyesore.

Distracted by your microscopic examination of a singular flickering light hanging from a string of fairy lights, you didn’t notice two former classmates approaching you and Steve. You felt his hand leave yours, making you look towards the new arrivals. You recognized the couple- you’re assuming- as Todd Michaels and Laurie Sullivan. You never had any classes with Todd but he was a part of the basketball team with Steve. And Laurie…

Laurie was one of Steve’s ex-girlfriends. Or flings? 

You never really knew what their title was. But you do know they were together for a couple of months in high school. Steve had a reputation of getting around. That was King Steve. But you had the real Steve. The Steve who loved you.

You watched as Steve gave the two quick side hugs, making small talk. Steve’s interest in the conversation seemed little to none, only wanting to be respectful. Laurie then acknowledged you, turning the conversation over. You suddenly felt like you had too many pairs of eyes on you, not really preparing for a lot of social interaction. It was Steve’s idea to come to the reunion at first. You were reluctant but wanted to make him happy. 

Laurie began to ask simple questions, wanting to know how life has been for the past five years, what jobs we have, what Hawkins is like, etc..

“How long have you two been together? I don’t recall you guys really interacting with each other in school,” Laurie questioned. Her tone seemed off, degrading, demeaning- like the idea of Steve being with you was an unfathomable concept. She played it off as an innocent question, a sly smirk gracing her face that was caked with too much setting powder. 

Steve butt in fast.

“We met when I used to work at the Family Video in town,” he looked down towards you, a smile slowly appearing as he recalled the fond memory. He always said that he fell in love with you at first sight.

You liked to tell him it’s impossible for him to have done that since it wouldn’t have technically been at first sight. You had known each other since middle school.

He liked to tease that was when he really saw you. In your own light. He was “stunned by your beauty” he says. Whatever that meant..

Steve gave a quick rundown of your “meet-cute.” Laurie then asked the one question that could make or break a couple.

“So, do you two have any kids yet? Me and Todd are planning kid number two but wanted to wait another year until Max is a bit older.”

Todd didn’t seem interested in the topic, almost like it was a touchy subject for him, too. You almost felt sorry for him. Almost. You couldn’t feel too bad for a guy who was such a major douchebag in school.

Your heart started beating rapidly. You and Steve have mentioned the possibility of kids. He’s always made it clear he wanted a big family. You would like one or two, but maybe not six, like he’s mentioned before. You told him three is your max. Steve says he’s okay with any amount, as long as he gets to have them with you. But the idea is still scary. You’ve always worried that you wouldn’t do a good job as a mother. What if you’re not cut out for it? What if the stress gets to you? What if Steve suddenly changes his mind about wanting kids? What if you change your mind about wanting kids?

The list went on and on in your head.

Steve felt your hand gripping his tighter, a cue that you didn’t know how to interject into the conversation.

“We want kids, for sure. In the future, maybe,” Steve replied, squeezing your hand back- a way for him to tell you that it’s okay.

Laurie’s face morphed into shock.

“Wait, you don’t have any already?”

“Oh, no. Not yet. It’s just the two of us for now.”

Steve looked like he was slowly checking out of the conversation. Ways to make his great escape from the couple and make your rounds around the gym scattered through his head. But you didn’t see that. You started zoning out, letting him take control of the conversation. These were people you never spoke to in school and they never spoke to you. You were on the opposite side of the popularity spectrum. You don’t even know if they remember you. You wouldn’t be surprised.

You heard a sly giggle escape Laurie’s mouth. It made  you look towards her, your focus now on lock. You could hear Todd say something under his breath, though you’re not able to clearly make out what it was. He looks annoyed at Laurie. 

“Oh, I just assumed that you’ve already had a baby because, I mean,” she paused, trying to bite back a smirk but failing. You saw her eyes looking you up and down, but not in a good way. She’s looking at you like you’re a foreign specimen.

“Laurie,” you heard Todd grumble beside her, a way for him to tell her to stop before she started something.

“I just assumed you’ve already carried a baby.” Laurie turned her focus away from you towards Todd and Steve, talking as if you weren’t there anymore, “She’s gained a bit of weight since high school.”

Your blood ran cold. Heart stilling for just a second.

Of course you’re not the same weight as you were when you were 17 but you didn’t think you changed that much.

Steve interjected, though your focus was on the back wall behind the couple, not paying attention to Steve’s affect or the fact that he was barely listening to what Laurie was saying. Your eyes glazed over with Laurie’s words bouncing off of your ears.

“Yeah, yeah. Anyway, it was really nice talking to you guys. We’ll see you around.”

Your ears perked up at Steve’s comment.

Yeah, yeah.

The word hammered into your brain.

Yeah

Your ears started ringing. Your insecurities getting the best of you. You’ve always felt a little subconscious about your physical appearance, constantly having to tell yourself that bodies are always changing. But that never helped calm the nagging voice in your head that despite it all, Steve might not want you anymore one day.

Yeah, sure, you could also tell yourself you should never care what a man thinks about you, but it’s Steve, your Steve. If there’s anyone out there that you cared what they think about you, it’s him. So the idea of him agreeing with Laurie Sullivan, a girl who he used to date. A girl he used to be attracted to. A girl he could still be attracted to. The thought made you nauseous.

Lost in thought, you blindly followed Steve’s lead hand-in-hand as he walked towards a table with drinks and snacks. He grabbed two cups, filling them with some kind of punch. He tried to hand a drink towards you but your mind was elsewhere. Your face was stoic, eyes glazed over. He took notice quickly.

 “Hey, are you okay,” he asked, concern lacing his voice. He bent down slightly so the two of you were face-to-face, catching your eyes.

You shook yourself out of your thoughts, giving him a quick but small smile.

“Yes,” grabbing the drink from his hand, “I’m okay. Just distracted by all of the decorations.”

Steve’s eyebrows furrow, like he didn’t fully believe you, but nevertheless he didn’t press on.

The rest of the night went by in a haze, quickly dissociating the rest of the event. Steve made small talk with former classmates and friends, while you nodded your head to pretend like you were paying attention to what was said. Simple yes’s and no’s were all that would come out of you, too distracted with your own thoughts. Every now and then, Steve would make quick glances at you, worry slowly etching his face. You’re more quiet than usual. He thought to himself that it might just be your nerves getting to you. You were never the best at large events. It took time for you to come out of your shell with him before fully expressing how loud your laugh can be and how wide your smile is.

You were quiet the entire drive back home, Steve’s right hand resting on your thigh, making small circles with his thumb. The ride was short, but every now and then he would look over at you. You were staring at the window, trying to distract yourself from your mind with the bland scenery of Hawkins.

Once settled inside the house, you kicked off your heels by the front door, walking towards the bathroom. Steve grabbed your wrist, pulling you towards him.

He softly brushed a few strands of hair out of face, cradling your cheeks.

“Hey,” he says quietly, barely above a whisper, “Are you sure you’re okay? You got quiet on me back there.”

You hesitated for a second, deciding between telling him the truth or stuffing it into the back of your mind, not wanting to confront him and start an issue. You and Steve rarely actually fought. You would bicker back and forth sometimes about minuscule things like who’s turn it is to wash the dishes or his bad habit of hogging the covers at night. But never an actual fight. That’s why you loved him so much. He made everything feel so easy. He made it seem so easy for him to love you.

Deep down, you were battling with yourself. 

You decided to leave it alone.

“I’m fine. It was just a lot of socializing. I think my social battery died fast,” you said, giving him a fake smile, hoping it seemed genuine enough for him not to press on. “I’m gonna hop in the shower, wash all this makeup off, okay?”

“Want me to join you,” Steve asks, his eyebrows quirking up, smirking.

You replied a little too quickly, almost showing your reserve.

“No! I mean, I need to shave my legs and you know how small the shower is with two people in there. I’ll be quick, promise.”

His cheeky face slowly dropped, confusion at your demeanor.

“That’s fine, honey. I’ll be here when you get out.”

You did not take a quick shower. It almost felt cliché, like some teen high school movie where the female main character sits at the bottom of the bathtub, letting the shower rain over her. But that’s exactly what you were doing. It was better than standing up and having a full view of your body.

She’s gained a bit of weight since high school.

Yeah.

It felt like nails in your head. You tried to rationalize Steve’s response. Maybe he misheard her? No, the shrill of her voice was pretty clear, even through the sound of “Careless Whisper” piercing and echoing throughout the gym. Maybe he didn’t care about your weight? Still, it didn’t need to be pointed out and agreed on. You felt shameful, like you were back in middle school getting picked on.

You didn’t know how long you were in there. You usually took long showers anyway, so it gave you a good excuse.

You quickly got changed, having brought a pair of pajamas in the bathroom with you.

Steve was already settled into bed when you emerged from the bathroom, watching a rerun of Family Matters. He turned his head towards you, patting your spot on the bed beckoning you over. You laid on the bed, trying to quickly go to sleep, hoping you wake up realizing it was all just a nightmare. That nothing that happened tonight actually happened. Steve cuddled up behind you, his arm draping over your body, pulling you close to his chest. This was how the two of you usually ended up. But this time, having him touching your body, your stomach, it made your stomach churn, your heart race. You hoped he didn’t notice. But another part hoped he did. 

˚　✦　.　　. 　 ˚　.　 . ✦　˚　 . ★⋆. ࿐˚　✦　.　　. 　 ˚　.　 . ✦　˚　 . ★⋆

The following weeks didn’t help settle your doubts, it only made them worse. You began to question things you hadn’t before, things catching your attention that you’ve never noticed until now. Things part of you wished you stayed oblivious to. An angry ball of jealousy building up inside of you.

You were the art teacher at Hawkins Middle School, so you had many students who were a part of the little league baseball team that Steve coached for. The field was set outside of the school, giving you ample opportunity to watch their games after work.

However, you began to notice things. Flirting.

The constant flirting.

Not done by Steve directly, of course. By the mothers. But the fact that he wouldn’t stop them made it worse. He’s allowing it. Each game you’ve gone to for the past month, you’ve had to listen to what they say about him. What they say about you. How they talk to him, and he lets them. You don’t know how much longer you could swallow the lump that grew in your throat each time.

But every time you tried to hold your tears back in front of him, you ended up spilling them in the bathroom at home. You’ve resorted to crying in the shower, hoping the sound of the water muffles you. There has only been one time that you think Steve heard you.

˚　✦　.　　. 　 ˚　.　 . ✦　˚　 . ★⋆. ࿐˚　✦　.　　. 　 ˚　.　 . ✦　˚　 . ★⋆

Letting the shower fall over your back, crouched down in the bottom of the bath tub. The sound of sniffling and subtle sobs were interrupted by the sound of knocking on the bathroom door. It slowly creaked open, Steve peaking his head through the crack.

“Honey, are you okay? I thought I heard crying,” concern lacing his voice.

You sniffled, “No, I’m okay.”

“Are you sure?”

You paused, contemplating telling the truth and dealing with the confrontation, even if it confirmed your doubts.

“Yes, Steve, I’m okay. I-,” you stutter, “I promise.”

“Okay, honey. I’ll be here when you’re done. I love you.”

He waited for your response.

“I love you, too,” you sniffled.

Steve closed the door, leaving you to let the tears that were building up escape your eyes.

Steve was confused. He knew you were crying. He heard you, he just didn’t know why. You weren’t talking to him. 

He felt like he was missing something. What weren’t you telling him?

˚　✦　.　　. 　 ˚　.　 . ✦　˚　 . ★⋆. ࿐˚　✦　.　　. 　 ˚　.　 . ✦　˚　 . ★⋆

That was two weeks ago.

After a grueling day of class and putting up the rest of the clay creations on a rack to dry that your students have been working on for two weeks now, you took a peek out of one of your classroom windows. You had a perfect view of the baseball field, seeing Steve round up the kids in the dugout and parents slowly gathering into the stands.

A smile slowly graced your face, forgetting for a second. You’ve been slowly trying to get yourself to get over what’s happened, playing it off that it isn’t that big of a deal.

Laurie.

The moms.

It’s fine, you tell yourself.

You can get over it.

You can totally get over it.

Maybe if you kept telling yourself that, you eventually would.

You grabbed your bag from your desk, locking up your classroom. You began making the short trek to the baseball field, catching the sun slowly beginning to set. It was spring but Indiana weather made it seem like it was still the edge of winter. A crisp breeze sprayed your hair to the side, your fingers quickly reaching up to tame it. You would have brought a thicker sweater if you knew it was going to be so windy, but nevertheless bundled up with what you had.

You reached the gates of the field, eyeing for a spot in the stands. Spotting a free row at the top of the bleachers, you made your way up the metal steps. You were at the seats closer to the dugout, giving you a good view of Steve.

He was in his usual baby blue coaching uniform, giving a motivational pep talk to the boys. As the boys took their positions, Steve and another coach stood outside of the dugout, making sure the kids were in their correct spots.

Steve was glancing around the stands, almost like he was looking for someone specific.

When he spotted you, a wide grin grew on his face, giving you a quick wink. You gave him a quick wave, before his attention moved back to the game.

As the game progresses, your attention began to be skewed by the comments being made by a few women sitting below you.

“I love Timmy but I can’t help but find some of these games to be so boring. The only thing keeping me entertained is Coach Steve over there.”

“Oh, yes, I know right! He’s definitely a sight for sore eyes.”

“You think he’s single?”

“There’s no way! Someone as good looking as him?”

“I don’t see a ring on his finger, so he can’t be that committed.”

“Isn’t he dating the middle school art teacher? What’s her name…”

“Is he?! I mean I’m sure he’s a nice guy but is he that nice?”

“Seems like charity work to me. Maybe they’re just really close friends.”

The ladies began snickering, trying to muffle their obnoxious laughter at their poor taste in jokes. It’s clear they didn’t see you, or else they wouldn’t be so blatant about their opinion of you. If Laurie Sullivvan’s comment didn’t make you feel like an eyesore, the women sitting before you made sure to.

You didn’t want to cry. You didn’t want them to make you feel like this. Steve is with you. He loves you. 

Right?

You shook your head, trying to shake the negative thoughts flying through your mind, doubt that was building up inside you, adding to the doubt that’s been slowly making your brain their home. The lump in your throat was slowly growing bigger and bigger, wanting to make its escape. You told yourself you’re lucky it was spring. You could blame your watery, red eyes on allergies.

By the end of the game, all the parents and family members began gathering out of their seats, making their way to the field to find their kids. You waited a bit until the main crowd had left their seats, using the time to collect yourself before you met up with Steve.

Making your way down the steps, you reached the gate entry by the dugout. Before you made your way onto the field, you spotted Steve talking to one of the moms. One of the moms who had a lot of opinions about you just a couple of hours ago.

This was the usual routine, though you’ve started to believe the moms have been taking turns to talk to him after the Friday night games.

You could feel your stomach tie itself in a tight knot at the sight of the woman obviously flirting with Steve. You couldn’t quite hear every word they were saying, only glimpses.

The woman wasn’t ugly. You had to admit to yourself that she was awfully pretty. Maybe too pretty. Her skin was sunkissed perfectly, her long, dark hair cascading over her shoulders. She looked like she came off of the cover of Vogue.

Steve was smiling, laughing off whatever the mother was saying. You couldn’t tell if he was smiling because he’s enjoying it or if he was just trying to appease her. Either way, the thought made  you sick.

That is, until the woman reached up and slowly rubbed up and down Steve’s upper arm. But it didn’t last more than a couple of seconds before the loud creak of the gate door you began to lean on- your ears buzzing- sounded off. The two quickly looked towards you, Steve’s face lighting up. The woman dropped her hand, staring daggers as Steve walked towards you.

“Hi, honey.”

Steve approached you with open arms, pulling you into a suffocating hug. He pulled back just enough to see your face, not able to help the smile creeping up despite what you had to witness seconds before.

“Did you enjoy the game?”

The woman was still standing near, flicking her eyes back and forth between you and Steve. You couldn’t seem to decipher her face but you assumed she wasn’t pleased.

Your eyes flicked towards her, clearing your throat before turning back to Steve. Your smile never quite reached your eyes. You hoped he noticed.

You also hoped he didn’t.

“Uh, yeah,” feigning excitement, “you guys did really good! It was such a close game.”

The woman next to you rolled her eyes, murmuring something under her breath, and walked away.

Steve paid no mind to it. His focus was on you.

Your focus was on the dirt, the edges of your sneakers stained red from it.

You looked back up at him, faking a tight-lipped smile.

“You ready to head home? I was thinking we do takeout tonight if that’s okay with you, honey.”

“Takeout sounds good.”

“Lemme go grab my stuff and I’ll meet you in the car.”

You and Steve always carpool to work together. It only makes sense since you both work at the same school.

Steve got the coaching job (and sex-ed teaching job) a year after you started working at the middle school. It came at a surprise for the both of you, but it also seemed fitting. Steve has always been so good with kids and it was evident by his relationship with the younger half of the group, especially Dustin.

As soon as Steve turned around, your smile dropped. You walked towards his car in the staff parking lot, fiddling with your fingers. It’s always been an anxious tic of yours, but it’s better than you biting your nails so far down, your skin begins to bleed. Steve helped you fight that habit, forcing you to put bandaids on all ten of your fingers so you can’t chew on them when your anxiety spikes.

However, you couldn’t stop the repetitive voices in your mind telling you he deserved better. Someone prettier, someone more outgoing, someone who could bring him the ultimate happiness. Someone others wouldn’t doubt that he could really want to be with.

I mean, there has to be something wrong with me if there are so many people who don’t see me as good enough for him.

You’ve always felt a little insecure about yourself, you think. The “normal” amount of insecure that people felt. But you were starting to feel it in heavier doses now. You felt like you were going insane. Were the moms always like this with him? Have you just been missing it, not thinking to notice it? Why wouldn’t he tell them he has you? Does he even mention you? Does he mention you to anyone?

You didn’t notice your fingers starting to bleed as you started to chew on the nails, on the skin around them. You looked up to Steve’s voice approaching you.

“Sorry I took so lo- honey, your fingers.”

You removed your pointer finger from your mouth, looking down at the red, torn up mess you made, your hands slightly trembling- though it could be from both the anxiety blooming through you and the pain you were now starting to feel in the aftermath. 

“Shit,” you muttered

“Baby, I thought you stopped doing this months ago,” Steve said softly, taking hold of your shaking hand. 

“I didn’t even realize. I-,” you paused, watching him as he grabs a rag from his duffle bag, wrapping it around your fingers, “I’m sorry. I think I’ve just had a weird day.”

“We can talk about it when we get home, okay?”

Steve grabbed the sides of your head before planting a kiss to the top of it. He grabbed your good hand, leading you to his car.

The drive home was silent. Your drives home have been silent a lot lately, especially after the baseball games. You didn’t know if Steve had noticed this change. If he has, he hasn’t bothered to bring it up.

Entering the house, Steve made his way to the bathroom, grabbing a pack of bandaids and ointment. Walking back out, he gestured to you to come towards him in the kitchen, sitting at a small dining table only fit for two.

He slowly began to put healing ointment on your chewed-on fingers. Your eyes stayed focused on his gentle movements, too anxious to look up at him. You didn’t want to deal with the confrontation. The confrontation that he’s going to ask about when you started back up on the bad habit. You didn’t want to admit that it started after the class reunion incident.

The Laurie incident.

You felt embarrassed, ashamed. You felt like a little kid, letting others’ actions hurt you as much as they did.

The room stayed silent for a couple of minutes but to you, it feels like hours. The awkward air, the obvious tension, words left unsaid.

“So,” Steve started, “are you going to let me know when you started doing this again or?”

You doubt he meant it to sound condescending, but you felt like you were a little girl who just got caught sneaking into your mom’s makeup.

You stayed quiet for a couple of seconds before opening and closing your mouth, your brain telling you to speak and your anxiety shutting you up. You tried again.

“She was flirting with you,” you muttered under your breath, voice barely above a whisper. You refused to look at Steve, maintaining eye contact with your hand as it’s being held in his, pausing his movement and setting down the ointment onto the table with his other.

“What?”

Steve’s voice sounded confused, like he didn’t know who “she” was or what you were talking about in general.

You exhaled through your nose, closing your eyes for a second and slowly removing your hand from his. You laid your hands in your lap, your good hand slowly being picked at by your bad hand, the greasy ointment transferring in process. Steve’s eyes locked on your hands.

“Nothing, nevermind.” You sounded defeated. It felt pointless. It was just jealousy speaking. Right?

You got up from the chair, making your way to the bedroom.

“Wait,” Steve said getting up from the chair, “honey, I’m just confused.”

You paused by the doorway.

“Confused by what?”

 “You just said ‘she was flirting with you’? Who are you talking about?”

You turned around to face him, still keeping your distance. A look of pure confusion was etched on Steve’s face. You didn’t know whether to be more upset about the actual situation or the fact that he was acting clueless about it. It was so obvious what that mother’s intentions were. You’re not dumb.

“That woman. At the game. She was flirting with you,” you spoke in broken sentences, hoping to make your point clear and maybe jog his memory of the incident that happened not even an hour ago.

“What woma-,” Steve’s face morphed like he finally understood what you meant, “oh, honey.”

He was smiling.

Why was he smiling? Did he think this was amusing to you? You hadn’t gotten the joke yet.

“Baby, she was harmless,” he said, leaning against the kitchen counter, “we were talking about how good her kid is getting at pitching. You know Michael. He’s in your art class right?”

“She was rubbing your arm, Steve,” your voice evident with annoyance. You couldn’t understand how he didn’t see what was wrong.

“She was just being friendly, okay? You know how the moms are, honey. I can’t be rude to them.”

Your eyebrows scrunched at his words.

You know how the moms are, honey.

What is that supposed to mean?

“No, Steve, I actually don’t know ‘how the moms are’,” you made air quotes with your fingers before crossing your arms, “enlighten me.”

Steve’s feet shifted, standing up straight, clearing his throat.

“They’re just…like that, you know?”

He’s clearly dodging the question. You’re staring daggers at him.

Steve sighed  hard, rubbing a hand through his hair, needing to do something with his hands.

“Okay, yes, they can get flirty sometimes, but it doesn’t mean anything, honey. I’m not doing anything back.”

You could feel heat rising inside of you, your fingers twitching at your sides.

“You’re not really stopping them, either, Steve. All I’m getting from this is that this isn’t a new thing and you’re just letting these random women flirt with you, and you what? Expect me to tolerate that? Because you can’t ‘be rude to them’, is that it?”

You could hear your voice rising, your patience wearing so thin, you could feel it cracking.

Steve looked like a child being scolded. You felt like a mother scolding her child. It shouldn’t feel like this.

The fact that he was well aware of this behavior and he wouldn’t stop it, angered you more. It felt like he wanted the attention, like he craved it. Your mind went directly to how he was when he was in high school, receiving attention from girls left and right. Did he want to go back to that? Did he miss the attention? Is your’s not enough for him anymore?

The only sound you could hear was your own heartbeat drumming in your ears. You refused to look at Steve, your head hanging low.. You could feel his eyes on you.

“Am I not enough for you anymore?”

Your voice was shaking. You had to force the words out. Your eyes began to sting with tears threatening to spill. You didn’t want to cry. You didn’t want him to pity you, you just wanted him to listen.

Steve was shocked at your words. His eyes looked bugged out. He could hear your voice shaking, your chest unevenly moving up and down.

“Baby, what are you talking about? What is going on?”

Steve took a step towards you. You took a step back.

“Am I not good enough for you, Steve?” You looked up at him, your lips turned downward, eyebrows scrunched together like you’re in pain.

“Baby, you’re more than enough for me,” Steve stutters, “I don’t know where this is coming from all of a sudden.”

You scoffed, shaking your head in disbelief.

“I feel like I’m dating King Steve.”

That nickname leaving your lips stopped Steve in his tracks. You continued.

“I’m having to hear and watch these women throw themselves at you and you don’t do anything about it. You just-,” you pause, trying to find the right words, “you let them. You’re not setting any boundaries despite being with me.” You pointed towards yourself.

“You’re with me,” your lips trembling, a tear falling down your cheek. “It doesn’t feel like I fully have you. It feels like I’m having to compete for you and prove that I’m even worthy of your time. That it’s a shock that you would want to be with me. In here, I have you, I have you all to myself. But out there,” you pointed outwards, “I feel like I have to share you.”

Steve looked shattered. He was at a loss for words, feeling like no matter what he could say, it wouldn’t fix the pain that he caused.

He took a step forward, arms reaching out for you. 

“Honey, I-I love you,” his voice cracking.

You wiped the tears falling down your cheeks, hands shaking.

“Do you?”

Steve was taken aback by your question, his feet glued to the floor. He couldn’t believe you would question that, question something that he was so sure of himself. It felt like the floor was falling apart underneath him, crumbling to the ground.

“Of course I do,” he gasped, breathless. He could see your body softly shaking, quiet hiccups and sobs coursing through you. 

“Am I not pretty to you anymore? Or was I ever? I just- I feel like I’m competing with women who are on a different level than me, Steve. I’m not them, I-I’m average and you can do so much better than average.” You start rambling on, Steve trying to butt in between your short pauses, taking a few steps closer to you, but not wanting to go over a boundary you have clearly placed between you.

“Baby-”

“-I mean, I supposedly also gained a noticeable amount of weight that I had to hear stupid Laurie Sullivan point out-”

“Baby, can you please just let me-”

“-and you had to agree with her!”

Steve’s mouth was agape, shock written all over his face. Your breathing was heavy, chest moving up and down rapidly like you just finished running a marathon. Your face was soaked with tears, red and blotchy. But you were angry. You were so incredibly angry. 

Angry about Laurie, angry about it ruining that night, angry that it cut you so deep, you began to watch what you ate. You were also angry about those mothers flirting with Steve so callously, even though they knew he was with you. However, you were really angry at Steve. Angry that he just let them. He let them, and expected you to tolerate it.

The house was silent. The only noise that could be heard were your own heartbeat and a neighbor’s dog barking outside. You didn’t want to speak first. You were so tired of speaking first. You let everything out of you, all of the thoughts that have been brewing and marinating inside of you. You felt like a deflated balloon and you didn’t know how to get the air back in. It felt suffocating.

But deep down inside, Steve genuinely had no idea what you were talking about. He would have never pointed out your weight like that. Hell, he would never point out anyone’s flaws, and definitely not yours. He thought you were flawless. He was rummaging his brain to recall the events of that night to see if he could remember exactly the conversation between him and Laurie.

You broke eye contact with Steve, looking at your feet, defeated. You took a shaky deep breath.

“I’m going to go to bed, Steve,” you sighed, wanting this to be done with for now. You began to turn around until you felt Steve’s hand wrap around your wrist, stopping you. You refused to look at him. You could feel his eyes burning a hole through your face.

“Wait, please, I don’t want you going to bed upset. Especially because of me.”

“We can talk about it tomorrow,” you said quietly, though you knew you were lying to him.

Steve always had Saturday morning practice with the kids. You decided then and there, you were going to pack a small bag and stay at Nancy and Jonathan’s for a couple of days after he left- just enough time to cool down and collect your thoughts and maybe, just maybe,  figure out what’s going to happen with your relationship. The thought made you nauseous but you knew it was needed. This would be the first time in two years that you and Steve would spend apart. You’ve been attached to the hip ever since he asked if you’d like to live together.

He let go of your arm, watching as you went inside the bedroom. He stayed in the living room, sitting on the couch, staring at a blank wall. As the night went on and the sound of crickets chirping and the neighbor’s dog still barking, Steve headed for bed himself. He walked into the dark room, seeing your figure curled into bed. He stood in the doorway admiring you. But as quick as his admiration came, so did the feeling of his now heavy heart. 

Steve tucked in next to you, wanting to reach out to bring you closer to him, but knowing he should give you some space. He watched as your chest rose with each breath you took, before falling asleep himself. You were awake, though, hoping he didn’t notice. You could feel his eyes in the back of your head, could feel his self-conscious movements.

When the sun rose, you could feel Steve slowly getting out of bed. Every morning, he would reach over and kiss you on top of your head. You felt his lips meet your temple, your eyes squeezing shut, pretending to be asleep. He stayed there for a few seconds longer than usual, like he sensed what was to come, almost savoring the moment. 

His presence emanated through the house as he got ready- the shower running, his clothes rustling as he put them on, his steps throughout the house that you could recognize as his without seeing him, the smell of coffee brewing, the clinking of a spoon as he stirred the cup of coffee (a splash of heavy cream with 4 packets of sugar, he liked it sweet), and finally, the front door closing with a lock and the sound of the gravel driveway crunching as he pulled away.

That was your cue. You walked to the phone hanging off of the kitchen wall, dialing Nancy’s home phone, hoping at least her or Jonathan were home to pick up.

“Please pick up, pick up-,” you muttered to yourself.

On the fourth ring, the phone clicked, and the sound of Nancy’s voice rang through.

“Hello?”

A sigh left your mouth, not realizing you were holding your breath.

“Nance, hey, I have a favor to ask.”

You gave Nancy a quick rundown over what has happened the past two months, tears welling up in your eyes too fast before you could hold them back. The memories still fresh and vivid, emotions you’ve had to settle within you instead of blowing up like a timebomb waiting to detonate.

But of course, Nancy was your best friend, so obviously she understood. She would do anything for you and vice versa. 

The sound of a car running and door closing sounded off not even 15 minutes later. You opened the front door to see Nancy. Your bottom lip began to quiver, immediately bursting into tears. Nancy wrapped her arms around you, rubbing her hands up and down your back. 

“Does he know,” Nancy asked, pulling back to look at you.

“I wrote him a note. He’ll see it when he gets back from practice. I didn’t want to mess up his morning with the kids,” you say, voice shaky with tears.

You grabbed the black and white striped lumpy duffle bag that’s been taunting you for weeks. You turned over your shoulder to look back at the empty home, not knowing if you were going to come back, the thought scaring you. You locked the door behind you, settling into the backseat of Jonathan’s car. You watched you and Steve’s shared home get smaller and smaller into the background as the car drove farther and farther away from it. You feel like a piece of your heart was welded into every inch of that home, the empty void inside of you growing bigger. 

You closed your eyes, hoping to calm your nerves down. All you saw was your body falling from an infinite height, hoping Steve was at the bottom to catch you.

[nickswriting]

Only In My Mind

Summary: When what was originally a planned, normal, and routine playdate for Maverick and Sarah, turns into Naomi playing Cupid for you and Travis.

Pairing: Travis Meacham x fem!reader

Word count: 3.5k

Warnings: None, (that I can think of!)

A/N: I hope you all enjoy chapter one of Only In My Mind! I love this chapter, and can't wait to get deeper into the plot and other things! I am over on twitter as thedjour, if you wanna follow me there too! (No pressure of course!) Please let me know what you think, or if I missed anything! :]

Only In My Mind Masterlist

Masterlist

Chapter One

The sun was bright, some would say too bright, on this warm spring day in Atchison. As the wind barely blows through your hair, you look down at the playground from the grassy, green, hill you were nestled on, in the shade of an oak tree. Maverick, your Maverick, was shuffling around in the woodchips, going from stacking them on the playground equipment, to drawing lines in them with his feet. He loved the playground, he always had, but there was something about today that seemed different.

It felt like the air had shifted, as if the world was spinning in a different direction. Yet, this feeling wasn’t just for Maverick, who was waiting obviously anxiously, for his friend Sarah. Even with Sarah being three years older than Maverick, they always got along great. Sarah loved having someone to play tag with, and swing on the swings. Where you found solace in her mom, Naomi, who was always there when you needed her most. With the way the wind blew, and the leaves rustling in the branches above, something was different for you as well. As if the universe had shifted into a new timeline. Looking down at the clovers beside you and the blanket, running your fingers through them lightly. It isn’t long before you feel a presence beside you, Naomi smiling at you while Sarah runs past, heading for Maverick on the playground. 

“I have someone you should meet,” Naomi began, leaving no room for hello’s, watching Sarah immediately run towards the playground with an added chuckle. As she settles beside you on the spread out pastel, plaid, blanket, smiling mischievously. “I really think you would like him.” she continues.

This isn’t the first, nor the last time, that Naomi would try and set you up with someone. You sigh as you playfully, though subtly real, roll your eyes. “How many times do I have to tell you Naomi, no.” You reply with a shake of your head.

“Whaaat,” she begins with an exaggeration. “You have to get out there again! You haven’t dated anybody since Ethan and that was two years ago!” Naomi continues, picking at the strings on the edge of the pale blanket. 

“I don’t need to date,” you reply with a grumble. “I am fine by myself you know, we both know that. I went on a handful of dates with Ethan and that was all I needed to know I can do this, alone.” 

Before you can add on to your words, Maverick and Sarah are running up to you both. Wanting a snack from the wooden, woven, picnic basket between you and Naomi. Each of you chuckle, digging them out a squeeze fruit pouch, and hand it to them. Then before you know it, the two are gone as fast as they arrive. 

“As I was saying, no,” you chirp, looking at Naomi this time. “I really can’t fathom bringing someone into Maverick’s life all over again. They always come in and just let him down, and let me down.” Sighing once more, you pick up the kids trash and place it within the picnic basket to deal with later. 

“Naomi, we both know the last time I brought someone into Mav’s life that they hurt him. I had to sleep in his bed for three weeks because he couldn’t understand why nobody wanted to be his dad,” you continue your thought, already feeling the tears well up behind your eyes. “I would rather take care of him myself, where I can keep him safe and watch over him. Let him know that I am the only parental love he needs, because I refuse to watch him have those nightmares again, to wake up screaming due to another dream about abandonment.” you continue as your fingers glide along the grass beside you. 

“I get that hun, I do. Sarah has had the same nightmares. Yet, I promise you, this one is different.” Naomi coaxes, patting your knee gentle but firm to try and pull you from your own mind. “I wouldn’t say you need to meet him if I hadn’t put him through the ringer first.” 

You chuckle softly, rolling your eyes once more. “Fine.. who?” you ask, like the breath had been stolen from your lungs.

“Travis Meacham.” she says with a casual smirk, watching intently for your reaction. “I know him very well, I promise I’m not throwing you to the wolves. He passes the Naomi tests, and has officially been placed in phase two: meeting you.” 

Your brows furrow, a habit you picked up a long time ago when you are thinking. “Travis Meacham?” you say, testing his name with your tongue. You hum faintly, as if in concentration for a few moments. “What is he like?” you add.

“He is sweet, kind, he’s a rambler, and the purest soul I know,” Naomi chuckles softly, shifting in her spot to face you more than just sitting beside you. “I promise you, there is nothing to be scared of here. He is truly so sweet and gentle, his heart is always in the right place. You should just give him a chance.”

Nodding along, you listen to the man’s description, as you try and imagine his image in your mind. “What does he look like?” you add, letting your eye drift closed to fully try and put an image together. 

“Travis is about six feet tall, just short about two inches. He has blonde dyed hair, though his roots have grown quite far out. Oddly enough he has kind of like, triangle sideburns, a silver hoop in his left earlobe, which both help frame a tattoo on his neck which says howdy. He also has a tattoo on his right forearm of a snake, none of these tattoos make him look intimidating though. His thick-like eyebrows frame his big brown eyes.” Naomi goes on and on, describing Travis perfectly in your opinion, as you are able to paint a beautiful image of him in your mind. 

Humming, you let your eyes drift back open as you shove your lips to the side of your face in a pursed motion. “I mean, he doesn’t sound horrible I suppose..” you begin with a glance away from Naomi and towards the kids on the playground. Where you keep your gaze on them for a few, long, silent, minutes, before you take a deep breath to speak again. “Fine, you can give him my number, but if he hurts me or Mav, you’re in trouble missy.” you chirp playfully, wanting to cover the possibility of hurt, the uncertainty and worry lacing your voice, as you try and speak about his new man. 

“Don’t worry, he wouldn’t hurt a fly, let alone someone I, or he, cares about.” Naomi says with a smile again, happily satisfied as she instantly pulls out her phone. “I’m gonna send it to him right now,” she adds. After unlocking her phone and pressing a few buttons, “There, done!”

You chuckle as your gaze finds Maverick and Sarah once more, watching as they chase one another around the playground. It was almost instantly when you felt your phone buzz in your pocket, pulling it out with careful fingers to lift it up for it to unlock. With your eyes locking onto the new message:

Unknown Number: 

Hey, it’s Travis! Travis Meacham, Naomi gave me your number! I hope that is okay, if it’s not I’m sorry, I can delete it! If you don’t want me to have it of course then please just let me know or like you could block me even. I understand!

“A yapper indeed,” you scoff playfully as you send a message back, a smile already spreading itself across your lips. 

You:

Hi! Obviously it was okay, or I would’ve told Naomi no haha. I promise you’re okay, hopefully we can get to know each other better as time goes on :)

“I told you, he loves to talk,” Naomi chirps, reading your typed message over your shoulder, eagerly wanting to know how this little Cupid matchmaking was going to go. “I think you two are going to get along just fine honestly. Even if you just listen while he talks, I promise you that he would never hurt you or Mav. He truly is the sweetest soul I know, ”

Nodding, you slide your phone back into your pocket where it buzzes once more. You choose to ignore the sensation this time, wanting to focus on this current moment. Maverick scurries up to you from the playground once more, handing you a particularly funny shaped woodchip. According to him, and mentioning something about wanting to take it home before scurrying back to the swings. 

“Well if he is so sweet, I’m surprised you aren’t the one all over him,” you reply back with a glance in Naomi’s direction. Playfully, you reach over and poke her forearm, wiggling your eyebrows as if trying to insinuate something. 

“Maybe he just isn’t my type? Have you ever thought of that?” Naomi asks as she lightly swats your hand away, smiling at you again. You couldn’t tell based on her motions or words, but there was something deeper she hadn’t told you, and clearly wasn’t planning on telling you.

“Well that is surprising,” you start, though not with an ill tone. “You’re always the one looking for and going after a relationship. Whatever happened to that?” 

Naomi shrugs, “I don’t know, I’ve just decided to wait until the love falls into my lap, “ she speaks. “I don’t always want to be the one chasing it, it should chase me if you know what I mean.” 

You nod instantly, understanding her better than anyone else, you always had. You both sit there in silence for many moments before devolving into some pointless conversation. As the hours pass, the time when you are together flying by with ease, the sun begins to set against the horizon. Each of you decide it is time to get your baby’s home, as you clean up your area and prepare for the treks back home. With Maverick and Sarah saying their goodbyes, you and Naomi do the same. 

It took you about 45 minutes to make it home, but when you do, Maverick is instantly scurrying from his car seat the second you get him unbuckled. He’s taking his little legs as fast as they can go, and into the house from the garage. Chuckling quietly you gather the picnic basket and blanket from earlier and bring them into the mud room from the cold garage. Locking the car with the key fob, and closing the garage door with the switch on the wall you lovingly roll your eyes as Maverick is sitting on the floor trying to get his shoes untied. 

“Need help Mav?” you ask him sweetly, already preparing to sit the items down onto the bench beside the garage door. “No, I’m a big boy.” he replies back firmly, turning his back to you, as he successfully knots his laces together with a whine. 

“So.. no help at all?” you add, raising your eyebrows. Slowly making your way towards the kitchen with the items still in hand, after his refusal. 

“Mommy help..” Maverick sighs like the five-year-old he is. You smile gently as you sit the basket and blanket onto the kitchen counter with a soft thud. Instantly returning to the mud room where Maverick was residing for now, and crouching down to his level.

“See, sometimes it doesn’t hurt to ask for help,” you speak gently, taking your fingernails and gently pulling at the white laces until they are plucked free. Sliding off his shoes one by one and placing them in their basket, Maverick chirps a quick thank you before heading upstairs. He already knew it was time to start getting ready for bed. 

After reentering the kitchen, sliding off your own shoes in the mudroom before you do. You begin putting away the leftover snacks from the basket, in their rightful place, and throwing away the trash. You sit the blanket into the laundry room, and then head upstairs to find Maverick. Like the easily distractable five-year-old he is, you find him playing with an old box of toy trains in his closet instead of getting his pajamas. 

Walking over to his dresser, you begin pulling out everything he would need after his bath. “Dinos or kites?” you ask him over your shoulder, always wanting him to help in different ways with his routine. 

“Kites!” he chirps instantly, putting the trains away, realizing he was supposed to be getting ready for bed. He races you to the hall bathroom, without letting you know you’re even racing of course. Turning on the water himself so it can begin warming up. Soon you join him, placing the pajamas on the counter near the sink. 

“I’m just down the hall if you need me, okay?” you coax to him, knowing he had been working really hard lately on taking a bath by himself. All you see is him nodding before he plugs the tub. You leave into the hallway, making sure the door is cracked behind you. As you return down the hall towards the stairs, you pull your phone from your pocket, remembering it buzzed while you were at the park. 

Unknown Number:

I can't wait to get to know you too! Is there anything you would like to know about me? I’m an open book. Actually, I love to read. Reading is something that calms me, it was one of my favorite ways to pass the time in prison. Anywho, that is all besides the point. Would you be so kind as to allow me to put a face to the name, and allow me to take you on a date sometime? 

Unknown Number:

Wait, I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you off, I really am a nice guy  I swear. I would never ever ever ever ever ever even hurt a fly. The prison thing wasn’t because I hurt someone, oh fuck no of course not! I can’t expect you to know that know if you’ve never met me. I shouldn’t have just jumped right into that detail.

Unknown Number:

I’m not stupid, but I mean, I can be sometimes. Even if I act stupid sometimes, IQ wise, like intelligence and knowledge I really am not stupid I swear to you I’m not stupid. Sometimes I just make odd and off decisions and I am so sorry. I am so sorry for cursing too, I've been working on that. Please give me another chance, I never wanted to push you away like this before I even got to know you. I wanted to get to know you so badly and I already blew it, I am so so so so so sorry.

You let your brows furrow as you read the thread of messages, mentally acknowledging that Naomi was right.. This guy really did love to talk, and didn’t seem to know when to stop. Though that wasn’t a bad thing, just a quirk or feature of him to notice. With ease you add a new contact, wanting your phone to actually start telling you who was messaging you. Instantly you add Travis into your phone. 

You:

Travis, please don’t be so hard on yourself! I was just hanging out with Naomi, and then got busy! I would love to go out with you sometime!

It felt as if almost instantly your phone was lighting up with a response, before the device could even leave your hand. You could tell Travis had been waiting on you to text, anxiously worrying on his own end that he had messed this all up already. 

Travis Meacham:

Fantastic! I am truly honored you agreed, thank you! How about this weekend? Does that work for you?

Realistically, this weekend? It didn’t work for you. There was never anyone to watch Maverick on the weekends. The most you could normally do without him was go to the store while he was at school. You frown, a soft sigh falling from your mouth. You didn’t want to tell Travis about Maverick yet, you wanted that to be a face to face conversation, it always went better that way. 

You: 

I’m so sorry, but this weekend actually doesn’t work for me. I can’t do weekends :(

Your hands shake slightly as you look down at the screen, watching it flash back and forth briefly with the infamous typing bubble, the three dots rippling constantly. As you watch the bubbles go from present to gone, the message bubble disappears for multiple minutes. You listen closely, making sure Maverick is alright while taking his bath, coincidentally you hear the water begin to drain from the tub. Before you can chirp anything out to him, your phone flashes again with a new message.

Travis Meacham:

Is it because of Maverick? I know about your son, but not in a creepy way. Naomi told me about him, she mentioned you two met in a single parenting group. You don’t have to worry about him, or me suddenly becoming disinterested because you have a child. What day works best for you?

You hum softly, pleased, at his text. Typing quickly, so you are able to go tuck Maverick into bed for the night, you respond.

You:

Oh… I didn’t know you knew about him.. Friday? Friday works for me, late morning maybe? Maverick gets out of school at 2:30!

Before you could sit around too long and wait for the reply, you toss your phone onto the comforter next to you and stand from the bed with a stretch. After going through the normal nighttime routine with Maverick, reading him two and a half bedtime stories before he falls asleep. His current favorites were Goodnight Moon and If You Give A Mouse A Cookie. Giving him one more kiss upon his forehead, and making sure he was as snug as a bug in a rug. You check the hall bathroom once more, making sure Maverick’s bath toys were put away, the towel he uses placed in the hamper, and the water all drained from the tub. Once you were satisfied with the state of the bathroom, you decide it is time for you to head to bed yourself.

Quietly you return to your own bedroom, taking a pair of pajamas you pull from your own dresser and head to the bathroom. Once you shower, and change clothes, you walk back into your bedroom with a toss of your dirty laundry into the hamper in the corner. Adjusting your comforter, and turning off your light, you pick up your phone from where it was discarded onto the silky surface from before. The screen brightens as you lift up the handheld device, some feature your phone added with its most recent update. Upon the screen a new message had found its home. 

Travis Meacham:

That works perfectly fine with me! I can meet you around 11 a.m. or so at the Tulip Farm just outside of town! I can send you the address closer to time, so you don’t have to worry about losing it!

A few minutes had passed between the previous message, and the next. Which upon reading, made your weak smile widen into a larger one. A faint blush taints your cheeks, it was such a simple gesture, yet the intimacy of it had been something you longed and had craved for, for so long.

Travis Meacham: 

I’m assuming you’re asleep, and that’s alright! Even if you aren’t, there is never any pressure to message me back! Goodnight, I hope you sleep well! I can’t wait to properly meet you later this week :)

For the first time in months, maybe even years, you feel genuine happiness wash over you. Something was screaming to you that this was different, this man was different, he had to be. There was already a feeling of care buried within his actions, even just over text. The new use of a smiley face, a trait you had done since the beginning of time, erupting something new from Travis, showing he was noticing even the smallest and minutest details about you. Most people glanced over you all together, let alone take the time to notice the smaller things you do.

Even though each of you were only words on a screen to the other as of right now. You could tell, he already cared about you. There was something about that realization which made you realize, that there was a flaring up in the heat of your heart, and what was once deeply hidden in the caverns of your chest, you think you may care about him too. With that widened smile still plastered to your face, you plug your phone into the charger. Telling yourself you will answer the text in the morning, you drift to sleep happy. With a warmth spreading in your chest, and with those butterflies, who you thought would never leave their cocoon, fluttering within you.

[nickswriting]

Only In My Mind

Summary: When life has different plans for you and your son Maverick, you grow a little closer with a woman named Naomi. Though little do you know, a man named Travis will soon have other plans for both you and your son.

Pairing: Travis Meacham x fem!reader

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: Trauma mentions, neglect, emotional turmoil. Very briefly, though it never hurts to be safe!

A/N: Here is the infamous "other fic" I spoke about in my other post! This is going to be multiple chapters, like multiple.. I can't promise steady uploads due to school and work, but trust this is the leading way I am spending my free time! If i missed anything in the warnings and such, please don't hesitate to let me know! Thank you to everyone for being patient with me again, I never expected so many people to like my writing :') I am over on twitter as thedjour, if you wanna follow me there too! (No pressure of course!) Please enjoy! :]

The Prologue

The outbreak ended years ago, two to be exact, and in that time a lot of things had changed. Travis of course had to have a job for his parole, but what he didn’t know was that due to the heroic actions he took that night in Atchison, they were going to release him from his parole. Clearly the crime he committed was never truly his idea, and the court knew that. Yet, the system couldn’t just let him get away without any repercussions, due to his comrades receiving their own sentencing. The night had gone fast, and one thing led to another and Travis found himself as the getaway driver in a crime he wasn’t aware was happening. Once told this news, Travis still didn’t know what to do with his newfound freedom. 

He hopped around from job to job, going from security at a local museum, to working an office job, and back to security but this time at the local college. Travis had never been the kind of person to stay still, and he was always on the move. There was just something so freeing, yet restricting at the same time, when no longer having limitations to his life. Travis was free from the confines of a record he never wanted to hold, but his life was never truly going to be the same. 

After working as security for the local shopping strip, Travis decided he needed a different change of pace. So, he began working at a local construction company, he would do little things here and there. He would help build structures and work the heavy-duty equipment, and even work on the broken machines as a mechanic of sorts. Truly, he would do any, and every, thing someone asked of him. There was just something about that people pleasing in him, which always got him into the worst situations. Even with this once painful trait, he has been using it for good recently, working longer hours, working on harder projects, etc. Which in return, has resulted in a raise on his end, and in order to celebrate he reached back out to Naomi to let her know how things were going. Of course he wasn’t just selfishly bragging, he was wanting to buy something for her and Sarah, for everything they had done for him.

Sarah had shown Travis how to focus on the simpler things in life, and how to embrace his childlike manner. He didn’t need to take things so seriously, because the outbreak wasn’t happening anymore. There was no reason to be wound up tighter than a spring, when the world was out there waiting for him. Where Naomi taught him how to formulate his thoughts clearer, even if he was still a rambler. She taught him what it felt like to truly be loved, and how to love. She guided him on a journey he had never been on before, one filled with love, happiness, and blissful memories. Even when the air decided to end things, the world just seemed to drift them apart, they still stayed friends. Naomi and Travis never had bad blood, they had actually never had a fight in the span of their time knowing each other. Travis wasn’t an arguer or a fighter, he was always steady with his words and thoughtful with his topics of discussion. There never was, nor would be, bad blood between Travis and the two he used to call home. 

It took Travis years to find somewhere, moreso, someone to call home. He had never felt this love at home, his parents never seeing him for him. They saw him as a paycheck in the times the government would pay them, that was until his mom left and he was never able to please his own father. His mom left when he was young, too young, when he was three or maybe four, he couldn’t remember. The brain works in funny ways like that, where it will black out your memory if it thinks things are becoming too traumatic. That’s why Travis doesn’t remember most of his childhood, yet what he does, it is cruel. His dad would never pay attention to him, causing Travis to have to scrounge around for what scraps he could find when he was hungry. Sometimes, he would miss so much school the teachers would have to call a wellness check on him and his dad. It came down to the point Travis would walk himself to the bus stop by seven years old, two miles down the road, just to get a break from his house. Which, it was just that, a house, never a home. A home is filled with love, happiness, utter joy and memories. Though Travis never felt that in these brick walls, causing him to run away at the age of fourteen. He had friends, very few, but friends nonetheless. He would go from couch to couch, begging for a new one each week for him to be able to stay there. This is when Travis got himself brought into the wrong crowd, doing this and that for his friends to impress them. He felt the utter need to please them, and beg them to accept and take him, but truly trauma will do that to you. When his friend, or who he thought was his friend, Hazy Davey, asked him to sit behind the wheel of the car at just sixteen, he did. His friends would never lead him astray, would they? They would.. That is how Travis ended up behind bars, locked away in a prison cell, where for the first time in his sixteen years of life, he felt calm, comfortable, and a sense of safety with stability. Never having to worry about where his next meal is going to come from, or having a roof over his head. He didn’t have to worry about the clothes on his back not fitting, or the sicknesses he would pick up along the streets. Years later, even after everything, to him, there was still a chance to find light in the world. To him, when he finally found that light, it wasn’t a thing, it was a person. Naomi. 

Meanwhile, Naomi had taken a new, steadier, office job in which she could spend more time with Sarah. Working a steady nine to five gave their little family a sense of routine in a life that was once rockier than the Rocky Mountains. With her new job and the newfound stability, Naomi was able to allow Sarah to join after-school activities such as Art Club, and the local Girl Scouts troop. Though, in a desperate need for friends herself, besides just Travis of course. Naomi began taking Sarah to a single-parent group, where other single mothers and fathers would bring their children for socialization, both for the child and adult.

Which, this is where you and Naomi met, over a year ago. In the time it took you to get to know Naomi, you each had found out so much about one another. You found out she had lived through the fungus outbreak, firsthand. You found out her and Mike had Sarah when they were still in high school, which honestly wasn’t too far off from your own story. You had given birth to your Maverick James about four years prior to meeting Naomi. When you had moved to Atchison you had no one, until you found that same group Naomi had been taking Sarah, and you both hit it off from there. 

As your now five-year-old, Maverick, was learning how to grow and be loved by one parent, though that feeling wasn’t easy for either of you. Maverick never understood why no one wanted to be his dad, why you would introduce him to someone just for them to be ripped away from you both. Yet you never introduced the men to Maverick until multiple dates in, even then they found some way to disappoint you. They would leave before you even introduced them to Maverick, or they would get his hopes up and promise to teach him to ride his bike, or how to play baseball, and never did. If it wasn’t one thing, it was another for little Maverick, and therefore, you too. 

You never wanted to hurt Maverick, that was never your intention. However, it seemed that in your search for love and acceptance, that you were losing piece after piece of your son. That’s how you got here, solemnly swearing off men for good. Feeling tired and pained each time you would watch Maverick’s face twist and contort before the dam of tears broke. The way he was experiencing heartbreak at such a young age was detrimental to his emotional, and mental growth. So, each and every day, for the rest of your life if you had to, you would tell Maverick you love him. 

You will show him you care, and that both of you don’t need anyone but each other. You will cut the crust off of his turkey and cheese sandwiches until the end of time. You would play cops and robbers with him until the sky turned gray. You would build a fort in the living room, and sleep with him every single night until he told you he was too old. You would watch every episode of Bluey with him until the sun grew cold. You would do it all, as long as he understood you love him.

[nickswriting]

Through all the bad

Summary: When a simple movie night goes wrong.. Sending your boyfriend, Travis 'Teacake' Meacham, into a panic attack, and you have to bring him back to the surface, where you end up learning things you didn't know about him before. (Hurt/Comfort).

Trigger Warnings / TW: Blood (slight, but still mentioned), panic attack, mentions of anxiety and ptsd.

A/N: This fic is special to me, and I was honored to have brainstormed it with my friend Alli (dj0wr0ng on twitter), Kummi (ouranmitsu on twitter), Angel (readyt0djo on twitter), and others! I fell in love with Teacake the moment I saw him, so trust me I already have another fic in the works. This one shot turned into a mini book at 4.5k words, but I truly hope you all don't mind and still enjoy it nonetheless! Thank you for being patient with me the past few days as I wrote this :] I am over on twitter as thedjour, if you wanna follow me there too! (No pressure of course!)

If you are someone who likes to listen to music while you read, please check out this custom playlist Alli and I made to go alongside this fic!

Sooooo, without further ado, here is the fic! Thank you all again so much for all the support and patience! Enjoy! Please tell me what you think on twitter or in the comments on this post! :]

It wasn’t supposed to end like this, truly, it was never supposed to start like this. The outbreak ended years ago, many moons ago, but for some the trauma never left. Naomi moved on, she found a new job and home to keep her and Sarah safer. Though this decision wasn’t made lightly for her, she talked and talked to Teacake about it. While he felt as if a piece of his heart was leaving with her, he still encouraged her to do what she thought was right. Teacake is one of those souls who only wants the best for people. Yes, he may be gullible, and believe it is written on the ceiling, he still has a good heart. That is how he got it here..

It had been about a year or so that you and Travis Meacham had been together, or Teacake as many called him. You met in Topeka, walking through the Mulvane Art Museum. Travis had his headphones in, listening to a self-help book he had bought a while back before the outbreak yet had never finished. After Naomi left, Travis couldn’t take the silence of Atchison anymore, so he headed Southwest to Topeka. He had only lived there a few months before he stumbled into you, quite literally. As he was bookmarking the chapter in his audio book on his phone, he bumped into you, sending you floundering into the wall behind you. You two continued to talk after this, Travis begging you to let him take you out for a beer as an apology.

That night he talked and talked, about anything and everything, except the one thing, or person, he spoke about the most was Naomi. It took you a few more of these nights out together, and many beers shared between you before you finally learned who exactly Naomi was. At first, you couldn’t tell if she was a sister, a cat, or a girlfriend. It turns out, it was the latter, though more so in an “ex” formatting. There is no bad blood between Naomi and Travis, she just wanted to move on to better things for her and her daughter. When she made this decision, it honestly tore Travis up to pieces. It took him a while to get over her, that’s what he told you anyway, but part of you wonders if there is more to his story besides just past love. 

After some time, you found yourself sharing those same emotions Naomi once had with Travis. You find yourself staring at the little things, watching the way his Adam's apple bobs when he swallows. Tracing the ink of his howdy tattoo along his neck and the slithering snake on his forearm when his shirt sleeve rides up. Watching the way his fingers find the hems of his clothing when trying to not overgesture with his hands while talking. Hearing the way he falls over his words when he rambles too anxiously or excitedly. The little things have rapidly become the things you love most about him, and can see yourself loving them harder as you see more and more. 

Those moments are what has brought you both here. Beers turned into dances, dances turned into dinners, and dinners turned into a proper relationship between you two. After months of establishing this newfound connection, strengthening the bridge conjoining you both. Today of all days, had been a long one for Travis, it was always a long one for him. However, coming home to be with you was always so rewarding. Travis spent many days battling with his past skeletons, the ones from before the outbreak. Where his life was turned and twisted, and sent plummeting down a path he never planned to take. Prison wasn’t something he ever planned on experiencing, but the higher beings had other things going for him. Time has been a hop, a skip, and a jump since then, though nothing seemingly changed in Travis’ eyes. 

He still loved being alive, appreciated it more than before it all took a turn. He had lived through the outbreak, and witnessed things he never planned on, like a fungus which turned individuals into zombie-like creatures and ended with them exploding gruesomely. Those weren’t the moments he missed most, not in the slightest. In fact he missed the company more than anything, but he would never tell you that. 

As the smell of cinnamon fills the air, flooding Travis’ nostrils once he stepped inside your apartment. Hanging his keys onto the hook by the lightswitch, he sighs toeing his shoes off by the welcome mat on the floor. A routine that was both bittersweet and sentimental to Travis as time passed, welcoming a new future and life for him.

“Baby?” Travis says, raising his voice slightly so you are able to hear him over the buzzing of the range hood fan, that was currently on above the stove. He smiles softly to himself before he makes his way further into the apartment, looking for you while his socked-feet glide across the floor. 

In the far end of the kitchen, you are sliding fresh snickerdoodle cookies off the baking tray and onto the plate carefully. The cookies were Travis’ favorite, of course they were, you always knew how to make him feel better without knowing it. He chuckles in a low octave to himself as he leans against the open archway, crossing his arms over his chest. This gesture isn’t being used to close himself off, or to portray that, actually quite the opposite since he just wants to steady himself and focus on you. Once the warm pan is sat back down onto its placeholders on the counter, he decides now will be when he speaks up. 

“Cookies?” he begins, letting his arms fall idly to his sides as he saunters into the kitchen completely, wrapping his arms around you from behind once he can get close enough. Kissing the side of your neck lightly, tracing his lips faintly up and down the column until he finds your pulse point, nipping it playfully. 

“What’s the occasion?” Travis adds with a smile that was pressed against your skin. He lets his thumbs rub subconsciously against your abdomen as he awaits your response patiently. With his breathing steady, grounding, against your back as his chest rises and falls, a subtle reminder he is there.

“Nothing, no occasion,” you begin shaking your head slightly. With a tilt of your head for Travis to have better access to your neck. “Okay, so maybe a small occasion, I just wanna spend time with you though.” you add with a shrug.

“You know there is never an occasion for me to spend time with you darlin’, you just have to ask.” Travis hums, leaning back slightly to spin you around, swiping the hair from your forehead and into the space behind your shoulder. 

“I know, I know, buuuuut,” you speak back, draping your arms around his neck loosely and threading your fingers into his hair. “I just also decided to be nice, I figured another day working was hard on you.” 

“Yeah, you always know me better than myself.” Travis murmurs, releasing you while you reach over for the snickerdoodle plate. He plucks one from the plate, chuckling again as he turns on the balls of his feet and heads for the living room with the cookie shoved halfway into his mouth. 

Not long after, you turn off the stove and head into the living room yourself. Holding a glass of milk for Travis, and the cookie plate in the other. You sit the plate onto the coffee table, along with the glass of milk before returning briefly to the kitchen for your own glass. Once you settle into the couch beside Travis, with him already scrolling through the movies category on the first streaming platform he came across. 

“Any suggestions?” Travis asks, draping his left arm over your shoulders to pull you closer into his side. He hands the remote over to you loosely, “Dealer’s choice.” He smiles at you before throwing his head behind him onto the back of the couch. 

“Hmmm, I heard of this new movie, a documentary I think?” you speak, nodding in the television’s direction. Selecting the film, and tossing the remote onto the cushion further down. “I don’t really know what it is about though, but I have seen the reviews are really good.” The movie plays for about ten minutes before Travis tilts his head up to see what it was all about, but what he was met with wasn’t what he was expecting. The green ooze, splurting from the man’s mouth on screen, as his body transformed to look further and further from human. The fungus spread along the wet pavement beneath the actor’s feet in this portrayal. Which, that is all this was right? A movie. A documentary, one they made once the explosion of Atchison Storage Facility took the media by storm. Where the fungus first happened, and changed the trajectory of the world as everyone knew it.

It was fake. Travis, it is fake. He attempts to calm himself. Slowly his heart rate is picking up, his palms are growing sweaty, a slight tremble to the hand which was quickly retracted from your arm. He sits forward, bringing his hands and arms to his own lap, as if he was trying to make himself as small as possible. Anxiously he rubs his hands over his thighs, hoping the denim of his jeans can absorb the sweat pooling in his palms.

“Tea? What’s wrong?” you ask, your brows furrowed as you try and sit up on the edge of the couch with him. At your movement he jumps, sudden, like he was trying to leave his skin. He stands, unsteady, as his head feels hot and the room begins to spin. Glancing at the television once more, his mouth going dry while it opens and closes a few times, nothing falling out.

He can’t speak, no matter how many times his mouth moves. His gaze falling onto the screen in front of you once more, watching the scene change into the explosion of the man that was just on the screen, the blood and green growth shooting onto the walls of the replicated storage building. He had been there, Travis lived through this, his life wasn’t supposed to be content or used for entertainment. 

Quickly, exiting the room, Travis dry heaves as the walls close in, the further he makes it into the hallway, the lower he falls to the ground. First his hand falls idle onto the wall, gripping for anything he can. A picture of you both on your first date tumbling from the nail on the wall with a loud shatter as the glass cracks and the frame breaks, sliding across the floor. 

Falling to the floor entirely, his knees going weak and giving out beneath him. Travis’ palms hit the shattered glass, and that was the first true emotion he had felt in minutes now, pain. The shards sink into his skin as he subconsciously digs the heels of his hands further to the ground, his vision blacking at the edges. His breathing is labored, wheezes slipping from his lips through every exhale. 

Rushing to the hallway, the documentary long forgotten in the living room, your hands are grabbing onto Travis’ wrists gently but firm as you pry them from the glass shards. Sinking down to his level, your knees resting on the hardwood beneath you. Flipping his hands over, you hold them palm up so no more pressure is added to the glass. Your brows are still furrowed, confusion about the situation written in your eyes.

“Tea, talk to me sweetheart.” you say sickening soft, your voice almost as if you were speaking to a frightened puppy. Carefully you pull his hands and rest them in your lap. 

All he can do is shake his head, and repeatedly murmur no over and over again, the only word he seemed to know. Travis’ hands are still shaking in yours, both from panic and adrenaline mixing to create a cocktail in his mind. 

“No, no, no, no, no,” he rambles, trying to fight you, unwillingly, like he needed to continue to make himself smaller by bringing his arms to his body. “This can’t b-be, it isn’t still happening. It’s over, it’s over..” he continues in a strained voice, like a cat had scratched away at his vocal cords. 

“What is over? Travis, I can’t help you if you don’t guide me through what is in your mind.” you whisper again softly, thumbs tracing over the pulse of his wrists.

The speaking of his real name from you, almost stuns him back to the present, like a light pulling him from his own mind. His eyes are glossy, and still distant, blinking a few times. 

“Th-the fungus…” he murmurs, glancing at the blood pooling in his palms from the glass. “I-it was horrible, it almost took me, took Naomi.” he adds, his gaze stuck on the red liquid. 

You shift to hold his wrists with one hand, the other lifting to so gingerly push against his jaw to tilt his eyes in your visual direction. You so lightly run your thumb across his jawline, trying to pull him mentally closer to you. 

“What do you mean the fungus almost took you?” you begin, your voice still gentle. “That happened in Atchison, Travis, not here.” The words are soothing as they fall from your mouth, trying to cover him in a safe balm.

“It-it almost got me, and Naomi.” Travis says with more force this time. “The fungus, I was there, I-I lived it. I was one of the workers in the building that night, I was working the night shift. I had to have a job with my parole, but the Self-Storage Atchison was the only place who would entertain hiring me.” 

“Follow my breathing,” you say steadily, overdramatizing your breaths for him to hear, going in through your nose and out through your mouth. He takes a few seconds before adjusting to your inhale and exhale pattern. 

“I-I was the one who worked there, one of the two. With Naomi alongside me, we were only two of the three who walked into that place normal, and out alive.” Travis nods shyly, his tone timid like a skittish animal once more as he speaks. “Many others like our boss Griffin, and his gang, ended up infected or just overall dead. Ma Rooney, a tenant, she walked out alive, but I’m not sure what ever happened to her.” 

“I am so sorry, I didn’t know, I would’ve never suggested we watch the documentary if I had known. I would’ve even looked deeper into it first.” Listening, you nod along, wanting him to know you were paying full attention. 

“It's alright, it’s not your fault.” He mutters, exhaling firmly from his nose just once. “I never told you, so you couldn’t have known. I didn’t want you to think less of me, or assume I was some scaredy cat over some little green fuzz.” 

Bringing your hand back down from his face, you carefully scan his palms with your gaze briefly before dragging them back to his eyes. Looking deep into them, you see sorrow, anxiousness, even pain. 

“I would never think that Travis, you know that.” beginning the sentence with remorse for bringing these emotions to his surface. “Let’s get you cleaned up okay? We can talk all about it, and I mean the whole thing. I don’t want what you thinkI want to hear, I want to know it all.” you say, carefully standing from the floor as you release his wrists. Bending over, you grab one of his wrists again gently, not wanting to shove the glass further into his skin. With the other hand you brace him on that same arm’s elbow, pulling him up to standing in front of you.

“Watch your step okay?” you add, watching his feet for him, making sure he doesn’t step on any of the shattered glass. Once guided through the hallway, you bring him into the hallway bathroom. With one hand you push over the shower curtain, exposing the edge of the tub, “Sit, please.” you plead with him, coaxing him closer to the tub’s edge before he sits down and you slide over to the sink cabinet to find the first-aid kit.

“You don’t have to do this, I did it to myself you know..” Travis says, solemnly looking down at his bloodied hands. His eyes trace the lines of the cuts, and the shards buried deep into the once thick skin. Showing him that truly no one is immune to pain, especially not him. He had been shot the same night the fungus came through the storage facility, but that didn’t damage his armor. He had never felt as vulnerable as he once had before prison, that time changed him. 

He wanted to be the man he once was again, but nothing would ever be the same. He had been through Hell, back, and to Hell again, yet all he could focus on now is making his way to Heaven, to you. That’s why he fought everyday, why he stayed alive and lived in a life he felt empty and hollow within. He knew one day he would find happiness and bliss again, to taste the sweetness of nectar of being cared for and adored. Many moons ago that nectar was pressed to his tongue, against his lips, your own. 

“I do have to do this, but it isn’t because of an obligation.” you speak low, soon you walk back to the tub. Then nestling yourself on the floor in front of him, gently setting the first-aid kit onto the closed toilet lid. “I am doing this because I love you, and I will always love you. This is from a place of love, care, not obligation.”

You reach over and grab his wrists, one by one, and pull them to his knees to rest them closer between you. Rummaging in the kit, you pull out the gauze, and healing ointment, placing them next to Travis on the edge of the tub. As you pull the trashcan over to sit beside you, to put it within reach for disposing of the glass. Taking steady hands, you carefully take the tweezers, and begin to pluck the shards of glass from his hands. He hisses a few times, cursing under his breath at the pain, but not at you, never at you.

“I just never want to be anyone’s obligation,” Travis starts weakly. “Especially yours..” he continues as he looks down and watches the fresh blood surface from the pulled out pieces of glass which you were placing in the nearby trashcan. 

“You are never ever my obligation, I just want to show you the love and light you have shown me.” you speak hoarsely. Carefully pulling each and every piece of glass from his hands, you sit down the tweezers and lightly skim your fingers over his palms to check for other shards. When you feel no sharp points in his skin, you cover his hands gingerly with the ointment, and begin to wrap them with the gauze. “You are the only person who has ever deeply and truly loved me, flaws and all, there is no reason I shouldn’t do the same.” 

His breathing stutters at your words, a whimper sliding from his throat as his heart feels as if it is being squeezed tightly with someone’s hands. A faint smile paints his lips, before tucking his bottom one between his teeth briefly.

“I just- I know what it’s like to not be loved, and I never want you to feel that way.” he begins with a slight nod, like he didn’t know what else to do with his body as you finish wrapping his hands, tucking all the items back into their rightful places in the first-aid kit once done. “I went through Hell that night, and I didn’t ever think I would make it out at that moment. Once I had, I just never wanted to look back, so I didn’t. Though clearly, I should've because it affected me more than I thought.” he rambles quietly, more so to himself than to you. His words cause you to sigh softly, not out of annoyance, but of sorrow. He felt such deepened emotions he felt he couldn’t share with you, and that hurt. 

“Travis, Tea, Teacake,” you begin with a soft smile, helping him stand from the edge of the tub. “I will love you, always truly and deeply love you. The kind of love that pains me I cannot properly express because you as a person are held so deep within my bones. Nothing can or will ever stop me from wanting to have you by my side until the end of time.” you continue sweetly, your eyes showing a true look of enamoration. “You are my forever, my eternal love, the one I want my soul to find when we are both away from our bodies. There is a red string which ties me to you, and I mean it. Whether you like it or not you’re stuck with me.” you tilt your head, pressing a light kiss to his jaw. “Now come on, I think we should call it a night.”

Taking his left wrist with your right hand with so much care, you guide him from the bathroom and down the hall to your bedroom, leaving everything to deal with later. Once in your bedroom, you sit him down on the edge of the bed, and walk over to the dresser and rummage for some pajamas for you both. You decide on a loose white t-shirt Tea had bought long ago, and a pair of black and white plaid pajama pants for him, and something for yourself as well. 

“Here, why don’t you change into these, and I’ll go clean up the hallway.” you speak calmly, before reaching out and swiping a few strands of his hair from his forehead. You sit his change of clothes next to him, watching his mouth open and shut a few times briefly, before you immediately step in. “No, no, no arguments. Actually, this isn’t even a choice, you aren’t going to sit here and blame yourself for something that wasn’t your fault. You didn’t ask to live through the fungus, and you didn’t ask for it to take your life and change it. So change, please, and we’ll lay here when I get back.”

Tea just nods, knowing better than to argue with you, especially when it comes to him and his emotions. You never stood for him being hard on himself, or anything of the sorts. Finally you excuse yourself from the room, and begin your way to your tasks.

First grabbing the broom and dustpan from the hall closet, and sliding on your hard-bottomed houseshoes so you didn’t get hurt trying to clean up the sharded frame. Picking up the larger pieces carefully, you discard them in the trashcan in the hall bathroom from earlier. Once the larger pieces are out of the way, you sweep up the shards and the frame splinters, and dispose of those as well. Satisfied with your work, you put up the broom and dustpan, and grab the photo from the floor. As you enter the living room, you sit it onto the coffee table in the living room, swapping it for the cookies which rested on their plate there. Taking on your new task, you put the cookies in a bowl, placing the lid on them gently. You leave the bowl on the counter and grab the glasses of milk from the same place they were left earlier, rinsing them in the sink and resting them carefully in the dishwasher for a later time. 

Lastly, you turn off the television before making your way back to the bedroom. Where you find Travis laying on his side of the bed, fresh pajamas on and work clothes in the hamper next to the closet. Something about the quiet bliss of the moment soothing the sharp sting of emotions from earlier.

“There he is, there’s my boy,” you hum, grabbing your pajamas. “I’m gonna change and then I’ll be right back Tea.” Quickly stepping into the bathroom and changing, you come back and discard your clothes with his in the hamper and glide to the bed quietly. 

“Thank you…” Travis whispered hoarse, his voice straining from lack of use recently. You can see the tear tracks dried on his cheeks from when you were gone, as you slide into bed next to him. Choosing to not say anything, for both his and your sake, you rest your back against the headboard. Silently, peacefully quiet, you take his shoulders and guide his head to your lap. This was Teacake’s favorite place to be, it calmed him, you both knew this. So when you slide your fingers into his hair, it is no surprise he lets out a strangled gasp of relief. 

Minutes pass as you scratch at his scalp, smoothing the blonde locks which were growing to show his roots. Humming a soft melody, you slowly hear Teacake’s breathing begin to weaken and steady, as he drifts off to sleep. You smile faintly, happy he was finally at peace after the emotions he had shown earlier.

“I love you, forever, and always.” you whisper quietly, just looking down at him while he sleeps, making sure he stays that way. As the bedside table clock reads three a.m. you decide it is safe to sleep. Shifting Teacake over, you continue to smile as his face morphs as he stirs. His arm immediately reaches for you, worried you were trying to get up. Instead, he desperately pulls you closer to him. He had always been a light sleeper, a habit he had to learn in prison. Yet, none of that mattered to him now that he had you, you were all he needed, and you proved that to him each and every day.

He presses a groggy, and still half-asleep, kiss to the back of your neck. His thumb rubbing absent patterns on your torso as he begins to drift back off to sleep.

“Home.. you feel like home, you are my home.” Travis mumbles slurred with sleep and emotion. The vulnerable moments were always the ones that brought out the most between you both. The soft-spoken one, silent across the room glances, the middle of the night dreams, each and every one drawing you closer and closer together. Yet, it doesn’t matter if he was, or is, half-asleep, fully-asleep, even fully-awake. In this moment, and every moment, you know he means it. He will always mean it. 

You are everything to him.

He is everything to you.