As I prepare to start posting my fic 'To The Grave With Me', I've been doing this fun writing exercise where I use photos of Joel as prompts to build a short-story around it. I thought I would post some of these on here just for funsies, so enjoy!
You can find me over on Twitter & Tumblr @SuniSid3Up
You haven’t shared a drink with anyone since before the outbreak. Yet after a year in Jackson and catching his gaze lingering more times than you could count, he finally plucked up the courage to invite you to the Tipsy Bison.
After asking if it was some sort of community gathering or something, he looked confused and clarified it was just going to be the two of you. The idea tied your stomach in knots. Joel Miller, asking you out.
It took entirely too long to get ready, fussing over what to wear, even with limited belongings. Now, you’re running late.
As you step through the entrance, you see him— sat alone, shoulders hunched at the bar looking borderline humiliated. It’s obvious he’s beating himself up for putting himself out there and asking someone out. It’s the fucking apocalypse, who goes on dates while the world is ending?
You stand straight and take a deep breath before clearing your throat and approaching. He turns and catches sight of you, a glimmer of relief in his eyes that almost undoes you on the spot.
“Sorry,” you say with a smirk, pulling out a stool next to him to take a seat. “Traffic.”
A rough, startled laugh escaped him, softening his whole face. For once, Joel Miller looked like someone who couldn’t believe his luck, disarmed by the fact you actually showed up and that he now has a couple of hours alone with you.
Homecoming was never meant to be a date. You and Steve were just going as friends - or at least, that's what you told yourselves. But a slow song, a whispered confession, and a tentative kiss on the dance floor threaten to change everything. Under the glow of the disco ball, something unexpected begins to bloom: honesty, vulnerability, and maybe even love.
832 words
The gym pulsed with music and teenage energy - cheap decorations hung from the walls, the punch bowl was questionably empty, and the disco ball threw dancing stars across the ceiling. You were surrounded by noise and light, but all you could think about was the boy standing beside you.
Steve Harrington.
You and Steve had agreed to come to Homecoming together. It wasn't technically a date - no one had said the word out loud - but it was clear you enjoyed each other's company. The way he'd smiled at you when you said yes had made your stomach flip. Even now, just standing next to him under the glowing lights, your heart couldn't stop fluttering.
Then the music changed. A slow, soft love song began to hum through the speakers. Couples drifted toward each other, hands linked, heads leaning on shoulders. But Steve... Steve stiffened, his hands shoved deep in his pockets, his eyes locked on the floor like it might open up and swallow him whole.
You nudged him gently. "Hey. I think this song's asking for a dance."
He looked up at you, startled, his cheeks tinged red beneath the low lights. "I - uh - I don't really know how to do this kind of thing," he admitted, giving a sheepish shrug. "You've seen me out there. Not exactly smooth."
You laughed softly, reaching for his hand. "Come on, Steve. I promise I won't judge."
He hesitated, clearly torn between his nerves and whatever part of him had brought him here with you tonight. Finally, with a breathless chuckle, he muttered, "Okay. Just... don't let me embarrass myself too much."
"I wouldn't dream of it."
Slowly, carefully, he took your hand and let you lead him toward the center of the gym floor. His fingers were warm, slightly trembling as they curled around yours. The music wrapped around you, and even if he didn't know what he was doing, you both fell into the rhythm, swaying slowly, your bodies close enough to feel the heat radiating between you.
"I'm not a great dancer," he said quietly, glancing down at your feet and then back up, eyes catching yours. "But I'm trying."
"You're doing fine," you replied, smiling up at him. "Better than fine."
His lips twitched into a small, grateful smile. "Yeah, well, that's not saying much."
As the dance continued, the awkwardness started to melt away. Your fingers fit perfectly into his. His touch on your waist grew steadier, more confident. Your heart raced faster when he looked at you like that - like you were the only person in the room.
Then, his voice dipped into something quieter. "You know... I've been wanting to do this for a while."
Your breath hitched. "What's that?"
He leaned in slightly, his lips brushing your cheek. "This. Being here with you."
You swallowed hard, blinking through the rush of emotion in your chest. "I have to admit it too... I've been looking forward to this all week."
He let out a small laugh of disbelief. "Really? I didn't think this was something you'd actually want."
"I'm glad you asked," you whispered, drawing a little closer. "I was hoping you would."
Steve's smile grew. "I'm really glad you said yes."
You rested your head gently against his shoulder, trying to memorize every detail - the sound of the music, the faint scent of his cologne, the feel of his arm wrapped securely around you. A part of you was terrified this moment wouldn't last. That tomorrow he'd realize someone better was out there. That this was it - one perfect dance before going back to being "just friends."
Steve noticed your shift. He moved his hand slowly, rubbing small, soothing circles against your back. "Hey," he murmured, his voice close to your ear. "You okay?"
You hesitated. "I'm just... scared. I don't want this to be something we forget about tomorrow."
He leaned back, his eyes searching yours. "It's not. I promise."
"I mean, you're Steve Harrington," you said with a weak laugh. "You could have anyone."
"But I don't want anyone else," he said, and there wasn't a trace of hesitation in his voice. "I want you."
The words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. You blinked, barely able to believe this was real.
"I want this," he added, quieter now. "Whatever this is. I want to see where it goes."
You nodded, heart full, your hand tightening in his. "Okay."
Steve smiled at you, a little nervous, a lot hopeful. "Can I - can we - can I kiss you?" he asked, his voice barely audible.
Your response came out as a shaky breath. "Yeah. You can."
And then he leaned in, brushing his lips against yours in the softest, sweetest kiss you'd ever felt. It wasn't perfect, but it was real. Honest. And it was yours.
The gym faded. The music faded. The world faded.
All that was left was you and Steve, under the shimmer of the disco lights, falling into something new together.
