ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ ᴡɪꜱʜ
Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader
࿓ Summary: Steve has a death wish, and after too many close calls he finally realizes the effect his carelessness has on you. Because now you look at him like he's already dead, and he hates it.
࿓ CW: Cannon violence, heavy angst, Reckless!Steve, Steve has thoughts of dying, Self-sacrificing!Steve, swearing, hurt, sad ending, alt happy ending
࿓ A/N: off this one's gonna suck, also wrote this high as a kite soooo just don't mind me if it doesn't make sense sometimes
࿓ WC: 2.8k
࿓ Song Inspo: ↻ ◁ | Arms by Blondshell (Ft. Gig Perez)| ▷ ↺
You loved Steve. Really and truly loved him. You loved his big heart, his dumb jokes, his protective nature, his gentle touch, his fear disguised as bravery. All of it.
Which was why you had to let him go.
Steve had a problem, a real problem, one that wasn’t going to magically disappear with the words ‘but I love you.’
You knew that, because you had tried.
Steve was prepared at any given moment to be the next ghost in the group. He was ready to be the new symbol of grief, the new reminder that life is short. He had seemingly come to terms with the fact that he would die. That luck would run out, that his friends wouldn’t be there to save him from bats or vines or monsters. If he was being honest, part of him was waiting for those eerie clock chimes, even if he knew Vecna had completed that part of his plan.
You see, Steve was angry. Angry because somehow his own life had been spared more times than he could recall, while others hadn’t been given that luxury. Eddie, Chrissy, Billy, Bob, the people of Hawkins who had died during the ‘earthquake’ all of them, gone within minutes. And yet, here he stood surrounded by people who actually knew what they were talking about. Surrounded by people who actually deserved to live. He didn’t feel he belonged in that category. He had always felt that there should have been someone else standing in his place. And it made him angry. Angry at that gross demon guy, angry at the people who had died for trying to be heroes, angry at himself for not having been there to stop them, and angry at you. Angry at you because you found a way to see through his brave facade, angry because despite all of his issues you still loved him.
He was angry at you the way a child is angry at their mom for loving them too loudly. He was angry that somehow you had made him fall equally as hard for you. He felt he couldn’t afford to love another person, and yet he loved you most of all.
The love had crept in silently and efficiently, the same way the snap of a neck killed instantly. One moment he had felt a presence entering his life, and the next you had successfully wrenched his heart open and shoved a part of you inside.
It was unfair. Especially given everything going on around you. You cradled his head in your lap after a nightmare, massaged his temples when he got really bad headaches, patched him up after rough crawls, held him to your chest when he cried, loved him without the need for repayment.
Which made it worse, because maybe if you had asked him to love you openly then maybe he would have felt inclined to stick around on this god forsaken rock in the sky. But you weren’t his mother: you didn’t demand any sort of transaction in exchange for love, you gave it willingly. And Steve was quietly hoping that eventually you would run out, or at least stopped giving him handouts and directed your endless fountain of care to someone who deserved it.
But in your eyes, Steve did deserve it. And unlike what he believed, your love wasn’t endless. There was a limit. And that limit was his death wish. At some point, you had come to the realization that nothing you did could show Steve that he was worthy of living. You can’t help someone who refuses to help themselves. Or however that devastating saying goes. It was true. And Steve was a living testimony for it.
Steve didn’t mean to completely drain you of your love, no that had never been the goal. And so when he realized that’s what was happening, he panicked. He told you he would be better, he would be more careful, he would look out for himself. He told you he loved you. Only one of those things held any truth, and you both knew it.
You had never doubted that Steve loved you, but you had doubted if it would be enough. And when you realized it wasn’t… everything else slowed down. Instead of asking him to be more careful during the next crawl while you patched up a deep gash, you simply focused on the task at hand. Instead of going over a checklist of essentials, you simply kissed his cheek and wished him more of that luck he complained about. When he volunteered to be bait, or some stupid dangerous shit like that, you no longer gave him a disapproving look. Instead you nodded, jotting his name down with the small group he planned on accompanying.
If he wanted to die, who were you to stop him? Wouldn’t that make you just the same? You certainly thought so. And you valued your life, the body that held you up, the mind that allowed such things as love and care enter your bloodstream. You weren’t going to try and put yourself between death and someone who craved it.
The changes were subtle, minute details that no one else seemed to notice. No one but Steve. Because now, Steve actually felt guilty. He hadn’t felt guilty before when he saw the flickering light in your eye when he made a poorly timed joke about his many near death experiences. He didn’t feel guilty when you cried into his shoulder about how you couldn’t lose him. He didn’t feel guilty when you begged behind the WSQK building to for once pick a safer role.
But now, looking at your detached expression, your eyes that looked through him and no longer at him. Now he felt guilty. Because he had done that to you. He had slowly torn apart your hope, and discarded your love like it was misplaced, like you had given it to him by accident. You hadn’t though. You had known exactly whose hands you had given your heart to… you just thought that maybe he would have been as careful with your heart as he was with the bodies he protected.
What was worse, is he knew you hadn’t stopped loving him. He still felt your love all around him, it was just that you had no more to give. You now patched him up out of obligation. You packed his bag because that was your role. You kissed his cheek because it was a habit. Sure there was love behind it, but it was disappearing. And Steve hated it.
He hated how you looked shocked every time he came back, hated how you no longer flinched when people recounted how he had stepped between death and another person, hated how you looked at him like he was already dead, like he was already your ghost. He did this to himself.
He knew you weren’t doing it on purpose, he knew you weren’t trying to still change his mind. Which made things harder. Because had this been some little stunt to try and get him to realize how much you cared, he would have been livid. But it wasn’t. This was simply your mind’s way of protecting what was left of your heart.
The whole thing unnerved him. Not enough to change his mind, but enough to try and change yours. Steve found you before a crawl, his rough hand wrapping firmly around your wrist and pulling you outside into the brisk air.
“What’s your issue?”
You sighed, "There's no issue, Steve."
He rolled his eyes, "That's a lie and you know it. Come on, lay it all on me. I can take it."
You leaned back against the brick building, "No, Steve. I'm not going to fight with you."
"Why the hell not!? Come on! Yell at me! Push me! Call me an idiot! Do something! Give me something to work with!" His voice rose in frustration.
"No." You stated it simply.
"Fucking why?! Why won't you lay into me! You should be screaming at me, and telling me how hurt you are! So why won't you!?"
"Because you already know, Steve. You know I'm hurt and upset and frustrated."
"But why won't you say it!?" He ran a hand through his hair in annoyance.
"Because I don't want our last moment together to be us fighting. You should know that by now. When was the last time I actually fought with you before something dangerous was about to happen? I don't fight back when I know you're already planning on sacrificing yourself. I won't fight you on it, not anymore."
"Why!?"
"Because if you get to come to terms with the fact that you're going to eventually die, then so do I. I get to come to terms with the fact that one day you won't make it back to me. So I don't fight. Not the way I want to. Because you've made it clear that there is nothing I can do to change your mind. No matter what I say or do, your mind is made up. I know you, Steve.”
“So you just don’t care anymore?” He shot at you. He hoped the statement would make you angry, make you upset, anything but this complacent girl in front of him.
“I care as much as I can. The same way you love me as much as you can.” You looked up at him, eyes unwavering.
“You think I don’t love you?” He stepped back slightly, hurt settling over his chest.
“I think.. You love me in a way that is convenient for you. You don’t love me fully, not in the way that I hoped you would, not in the way you pretend to.” You spoke softly, like you were the one breaking the news to him… and in a way you were.
He grabbed your hands tightly, “That’s not true. I do love you. I love you more than anyone here-”
“That doesn’t mean you love me enough to stick around.” You paused, letting him take in your words. “I love you, Steve. I think a part of me always will. But I can’t love you enough to save you, because I’ve tried. And I don’t have the strength to try keep trying. I think it might be best if we-”
Steve’s hands tightened around yours, “Dont-”
“If we stop this while we’re both still here. I think we hold onto those nice memories, and we forget about the rest. Because I can’t keep trying to show you that you're worthy of living if you aren’t willing to open your eyes. So, in order to make things easier, we should stop.”
He let out a huff, “You make it sound like I’m already dead.”
“And if death offered you a spot in her kingdom would you decline?”
His breath caught. His answer died on his tongue. You carefully slid your hands from his. “You don’t have to say the answer for me to know it.” You carefully turned, carefully pulling open the glass door. You paused, giving him a sad smile… the first real emotion you have given him the whole night. “I really hope death doesn’t come knocking. But if she does… I hope you say no. And not for me, for yourself. You don’t need to have people that depend on you in order for your life to have purpose. You have purpose in yourself, even without Dustin or the kids, or Robin or Nance.”
“Or you?” He looked up at you with glassy eyes.
“Or me.”
Steve replayed the fight- breakup- conversation over and over again. He replayed it when he woke up in a cold sweat alone, letting your brutally honest words soothe him. He replayed it when Robin was the one patching him up. He replayed it when he drove into the Upside Down like a maniac. He replayed it when Dustin fought him, and again when Dustin held onto him for dear life. He replayed it when everyone started getting ready to finally kill that slimy son of a bitch. When Jonathan saved him from falling off the tower, when he and Dustin stabbed at the underbelly of the mind flayer, and for a final time when the gate closed and the whole thing was done.
He had made it out… actually made it out. Somewhere in the midst of the battle, Steve had finally felt the change. When he was dangling 700 feet in the air, waiting to fall into death's arms… he didn’t want to die. He had wanted to live. He had wanted to fight to pull himself back up, back to you.
The realization came late, too late. Because despite the fact that Steve’s mind had changed about dying, there was nothing he could do to take away the pain he had caused you. Steve knew that he had lost you awhile ago. He had been taught a lesson, and it wasn’t some big moral of the story like ‘life is precious’ although he had come to realize that now, instead you were the lesson. When you’re not willing to help yourself, you will lose the things that make you better, and sometimes even the people that make you better. You had been one of those people. He understood that. It hurt, more than any punch to the head or bite from a bat.
You had given your all to him, and he had wasted it, had wasted you. He had done it to himself.
ALT ENDING
He had made it out… actually made it out. Somewhere in the midst of the battle, Steve had finally felt the change. When he was dangling 700 feet in the air, waiting to fall into death's arms… he didn’t want to die. He had wanted to live. He had wanted to fight to pull himself back up, back to you. When Jonathan had safely pulled him back up and Dustin had latched himself to Steve, his eyes found yours. Your grip on the railing was knuckle white. It seemed you had both been lying to yourselves. Steve wasn’t ready to die… and you weren’t ready to let him.
You were the first person he called after the military had released everyone and he had spent 2 hours in the shower scrubbing away the gunk. He hadn’t stopped thinking about you since the gate closed. He wanted to show you that he was ready to do things right this time, if you would let him.
You came over to his house that night, heart panging with anticipation. Steve met you halfway down the driveway, pulling you into a long hug. “I told her no.” He spoke softly into your hair, his eyes watering as he caught the familiar scent of your shampoo.
“For who?” You wrapped him up before he even answered.
“For myself… and for you.”
“Steve-” Your voice was weary.
He pulled back slightly, hands cupping your face. “Not because I felt like I needed to protect you… but because I’m better when I’m around you. And selfishly, I want that. I want you to help me grow into a better person. And I want to do the same for you this time. You give me purpose in a different way. You give me the purpose to strive to grow and learn. And I want that for myself. And I want you. So so so bad. And not just when it’s convenient for me. I want you all the time, however you come. The good, bad, angry, empty, all of it.”
You shifted closer, thumb brushing his cheek. “I want you too. I want to be a part of learning who the new you is. A fresh start for the both of us, a slow reintroduction that allows us to relearn each other as well as ourselves.”
He smiled lightly, his forehead dropping against yours. “Should I reintroduce myself?”
You laughed a bit, “No, that’s cheesy and we kind of just saved the world. I’d rather you invite me inside and show me your favorite movie.”
He laughed with you, his arm wrapping around your waist as he guided you inside. “What makes you think it’s not the same one you know?”
“Well I doubt it’s ET. I think you’ve probably had enough of aliens for a lifetime.”
“But ET is a good alien!” He defended.
“Alright, so is it still your favorite?” You prompted.
He was quiet for a moment before sighing. “Nooo.”
“Knew it.”
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