me me me I need some steve harrington!!! stevie with 19? 👀 🖤
a/n: nik I WOULD I DIE FOR U. sell my SOUL for you.
“I think I’m in love with you, and that scares the crap out of me” ALSO IF ANYONE WANTS A PART 2 LET ME KNOW
Because he’s an idiot, Steve has to fall in love with someone who’s got absolutely zero chance of liking him back.
And he had to start in the worst way too, because that’s just his luck. She’s his English tutor, the one his teacher insists he needs when Steve bombs a test while hungover from a party. It’s kind of bullshit, and he was sure it was just going to be a one time thing, except-
Except she’s just- just lovely. From the moment she’d introduced herself as his tutor, he’d been struck with how beautiful she was. Doe eyes and a warm, bright smile and with it, a kind disposition that followed everything she did.
At first, he’s sure it’s nothing. She’s pretty and nice, and he noticed. He’s not blind. It doesn’t mean anything.
And quickly, the hours they spend working on editing his essays roll into being him teaching her to swim, (her in a swimsuit is something he wishes he could’ve have a photo of, because jesus) and watching TV together on his couch and all sorts of things that shouldn’t mean as much as they do.i
They do mean something, after months go by. She’s the person he calls with good news, his go to plan when he wants to hang out with anyone and do something. His house stopped feeling so big and empty when driving her home turned into just spending hours at his place on most days.
“I’m having a party tonight,” Steve mentions to her when he’s by her locker in the morning, as he always is, “When should I pick you up?”
“Steve, I’m not going to your party.”
“What? But you were going to hang out with me tonight anyway-“
“Without Tommy and Carol, they’re jerks!”
“You wouldn’t hate them if you got to know them,”
“Is that what you think of me?” She slams her locker, and Steve- he can tell she’s not in a good mood. And maybe months ago he’d have been annoyed but now, now he just wants her to feel better.
“What do you mean?”
“Did you just not hate me after we met?”
“Hey, don’t be like that,” which, as soon as it came out of his mouth sounded wrong, “You know it’s not like that. We’re friends.”
“Not like that, Steve,” she sighs, but smiles before saying that she needs to go to class.
Which is fine. The whole thing’s fine.
Even if he can’t decipher what she means. Not friends like that? Like what? Steve’s pretty sure that falling asleep on couches together and knowing all of each other’s secrets, being the best part of his day is more than tutor.
God, he hopes she doesn’t think she’s just his tutor.
And when he’s stewing over whether or not she knows what she means to him, whether this party was even worth it if she’s not going to be there, he’s going to be so bored he’s just gonna get trashed, and oh, he realizes-
Fuck.
He’s in love. And he has no idea what the fuck to do about that.
Getting trashed is an option.
_________________________
She does show up to the party, later than everyone but there, and Steve is too far gone to have that much of a filter right now.
She’s so pretty, the kind of pretty you don’t want to stop looking at because it’d hurt, and it’s selfish but he wants more than anything to wrap her up in his arms.
“You look pretty,” he says, smiling widely when they find a quiet spot to chat, “My best friend is the prettiest girl in the world.”
He wants to kiss her, kiss her strawberry chapstick and feel her smile, wants to be the one who’s allowed, who she wants. She’s not going to want that, though. It’s not fair.
He just wanted to see her smile. Is that too much to ask for? She’s got such a pretty smile.
But her smile is fake, like when he fucks up a sentence in an essay but she’s being sweet about it.
“You’re tipsy,” she says, when the comfort and closeness and the inebriation all mix to a state of sleepiness. This is his house, and she could sleep over. She’s always allowed. Always.
He leans his head on her lap before he speaks again, her hands carding through her hair. He’s in love with her, he knows it, when that doesn’t annoy him.
“Mhm. And I think I’m in love with you, and that scares the crap out of me.” It slips out like anything else, like the nights they’ve spent screaming to music in his car or the 3am talks they’d have where nothing mattered but the space between them. He misses the look of shock on her face before he drifts off.
Truth is truth, and it would be so lovely if she loved him back. He wants her to. He’d be a good boyfriend. Make her smile. He would. He would. If only, right?
steve harrington drabbles are open!
