☈ @sheetbashed gets a starter! ♡
the first time steve notices, he looks past it. to be fair, it's not quite even noticing that he does – merely an observation. 〚 he's never been the observant type, really 〛 the second time he tells himself it's nothing. but by the third time steve harrington passes tina hart's house, decorated with an empty driveway and overgrown weeds that he's certain her father wouldn't allow, even amidst a lockdown – he knows better. every morning he drives to the station, he passes the hart place. the large columns are tough to miss. 𝐡𝐚𝐰𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐰𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐨𝐥𝐤 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐚𝐜𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐧𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐛𝐨𝐫𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐝, clad with large trees planted throughout ginormous yards with entirely too much space. there's an unshared sentiment with other kids his age that live on his block, the kind that understands there's a camaraderie in constantly being told you're 'lucky' for the wealth your parents accumulated... he'd spent every day of his childhood in a home like this, enough to know LUCKY may not be the most accurate description of his experience.
he passes every morning, and every morning it's the same single car in the driveway. every morning, there's no sign of anyone else. and every morning he passes, he's nagged with it until he drives past on the way home this particular early summer morning. because the assumption that here parents just weren't home started to have less ground to stand on when he'd pass by during a day off work, at a different time that proved the theory wrong. sure, they had a big garage, and that theory isn't entirely ruled out, but there's something he can't shake. so steve parks in front of the hart's house and cuts the engine. he knows what an empty house looks like, with every room entirely too big and everything between the walls too silent. the humidity in the air hits him from the stilled air of his open windows that he hadn't bothered to close, and he starts to wonder if this is stupid. 𝐦𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐞'𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐞. she's got friends... right? steve wonders if the friends tina hart surrounded herself ran parallel with his own assumed 'friends' when they both were in school together. if this was the case, he had little to no faith that she was in good hands.
steve wonders what she'll say when she opens her front door and he's standing there, after more than months of no interaction aside from nods and soft smiles when they pass each other around town. but he hadn't seen much of anyone lately, aside from robin... steve tries to get in touch with dustin but the kid's been a recluse since march. for good reason, yes, but he's concerned. he's become no stranger to knocking on doors and forcing his loved ones to give proof of life. there's been too much devastation not to check in them. so steve quits the hesitation and redefines this as the same. he pulls himself out of his car with a sigh and cuts across the front lawn.
closed fist raps on the wood and it's louder than expected. he doesn't give much time before he starts to call through the door, shoving his hands into his pockets. ❛ hart? you alive in there? ❜ might be in bad taste to joke about death here, steve.
