muse: steve harrington plot: slightly canon divergent / steve seeks comfort from his ex after getting his ass handed to him by the russians. open to: anyone !
eyes still bloodshot and movement still wobbly, the male’s shoes dragged against the pavement. there was no way in hell he would have normally walked around town still wearing his uniform, but changing his blood-stained clothing hadn’t necessarily been a top priority for the boy at the time. luckily, the truth serum had MOSTLY worn off by this point. all he could think about was how nice it would be to lay down again after laying on the cool tile of the bathroom floor for far too long while he waited for his coming down moment. with their house in sight, he felt his stomach begin to churn. his steps became slowed as he inched closer to the front door of their home. should he even bother? he raised his balled fist up to the door but didn’t knock just yet. his lips pursed into a thin line as he began to second-guess everything he had done up to this point. a relenting sigh passed his lips before his knuckles wrapped softly against the wood. he knew he looked like shit, eye half swollen and face still bloody. he just needed some sort of help, some sort of comfort -- and they were the only person he thought about.
