LONG ISLAND, NEW YORK: 1922
It didn’t seem fair. It didn’t seem right. There was nothing in the world that you’d ever felt that was yours. No real money, different jobs for different months, an apartment above a bookstore in Brooklyn that you had to share with three other girls and even the dress you wore was borrowed.
But Steve? Steve Harrington?
It felt like someone created him just for you. Carved from marble, drawn on a canvas and brought to life, a man beyond perfect. Because he had his flaws - just like so many others that you’d dated - but you accepted his with more love than you’d ever felt before. The world seemed to still when you were with him, the entire planet slowing on its axis just so you could savour his touch a little longer.
You lay in his bed, in his arms, wrapped in his expensive cologne and cotton sheets and you knew.
You knew.
You knew that there was no way there was anyone else in this world that you were supposed to be with. His hand fit in yours too well, his lips slotting between your own like they were made from the same thing.
From a time before, when someone or something decided to create the Earth and built you both from the same bone.
- Like It’s Love? III
