niaamra

[niaamra]

I always reread it when I need comfort.🤍

what about reader tispy or high at a party and tellin steve how pretty he is and he doesn't know how to handle it?

steve versus a very drunk and slightly high reader who really likes his face (warnings for implied drinking and r eating a weed brownie <3)

Steve takes in your drunken state with something close to horror, remembering exactly how this scenario had panned out for him the last time. You’re sitting on the arm of somebody’s sofa giggling down at your hands, clearly tipsy, your head lifting up slowly when he calls your name. 

“Stevie,” you say. He can’t gauge any one emotion from your voice. 

“Hey, what happened? I was only gone for ten minutes. The bathroom's an en-suite, by the way.” His bitterness over having to search the upstairs three separate times for a toilet is obvious. "D'you drink a whole fish bowl by yourself?"

You take the bottom of his jacket in your hand and pull him towards you, wrapping your arms around his thighs. He dips his chin to his chest to take you in, looking down at your glassy-eyed expression with some sympathy and more apprehension. 

“Are you okay?” he asks nervously. 

“I’m really stupid, Steve. When we first got here and I went to speak to Donna, like an hour ago? At the snack table? I had one of her brownies.”

Oh! You’re high. Of course you are. The weed must’ve just kicked in while he was gone. And then, “Hey, why were you at the snack table? You told me you weren’t hungry.”

You shove your face into his abdomen and sigh. “I lied, Steve.” Your voice, your tone, makes him want to laugh, suddenly so solemn.

Steve pushes his arms over your shoulders and dips down until the side of his chin brushed your temple. “Are you feeling okay?”

“I’m actually really hungry.”

His eyes slip closed in exasperation. He pats your back. “Idiot. This is why you shouldn’t lie.” You laugh. “What’s funny, Pinocchio?”

“Pinocchio!” You laugh harder, dizzy giggles that warm his chest before saying, “Steve, are you saying my nose is a foot long? That is so awful.”

He rolls his eyes and pulls away from your grip. “Here, get up. Let’s go raid the pantry.”

The pantry is stocked pretty well with snacks and Steve doesn’t feel even remotely bad for raiding it in the name of his girl.

“Hey, do you like the strawberry Pop-“ he cuts off, having turned and found you sitting on the floor. “Babe.”

“Yuh?” you ask, looking up. 

He sighs deeply and sits down in front of you, offering the box of Pop Tarts tentatively. You take them without looking at them, your gaze roving over his face greedily. He scratches his neck and tries not to show how shy he feels when you're looking at him like that. 

“Take a picture,” he says dryly.

“I don’t have a camera.”

He chuckles to himself and shuffles as close as he can, his crossed legs brushing your knees. You struggle with the Pop Tart packaging, fingers clumsy with the cardboard. You rip open the foil and it splits wide, the Pop Tarts falling out and into your lap, a hail of crumbs over your clothes. 

He takes the tarts into his hand and uses the other to brush you down. 

“Dummy. Are you sure you’re feeling okay? I know you didn’t mean to… take anything.”

“You don’t 'take' pot.”

“You didn’t smoke it,” he argues, forgetting the point.

“I ate it,” you say agreeably, taking back your tarts. “I feel great, Steve. Super. You want one of these?”

“No, you’re okay. You have them both, baby.”

You grin and sandwich them together, taking a big bite that sprays another wave of crumbs down your front. He doesn’t bother brushing these ones away, staring at you unabashed. He’s worried you’re going to get upset though he knows it’s unlikely. Even so, his body remembers, and he feels nauseous as you work your way through your sugary snack. 

You get a stripe of pinky-red icing on your face, from the corner of your mouth and over your cheek. 

"Here," he says, waving his hand at your face. You melt towards him and he wipes it away. 

You're looking at him intensely.

"What?" he asks through a laugh, paused with his hand on your cheek. 

"You…"

"What?" 

"You're so pretty. Handsome," you correct hurriedly. 

"Pretty?" he asks. 

You nod heavily. "You're pretty. My…" Steve slides his hand under your ear. "My pretty boy." 

You smile, lashes kissing at the corners, nothing but love on your face as you lean into his hand. "You have the nicest face ever." 

"What's the matter with you?" he asks, rubbing your cheek with his thumb just rough enough for your head to bob backwards. Your eyes close fully in response. Your smile grows. 

"Nothing," you say adamantly. 

Steve pulls you towards him. You're pretty floppy, your side falling into his chest, your face to his collar. "You're full of it." 

"You're soooo pretty," you whisper. 

"Stop it." 

You look up at him, your crown brushing his chin. "You are! Look-" you bring your hands to his face. His eyes widen and his hands tighten where they rest, arms wrapped around you lightly. "Look at your face." 

"I can't look at my own face." 

"Okay. I'll do it." 

He presses his lips together and lets you play with his face, gently squeezing his cheeks, then less so. Your eyes track over his eyes, his nose, his mouth. 

"Steve," you murmur, pouting at him. 

"Y/N." 

Your teeth appear as your smile grows blinding. You get another case of the giggles and they're infectious, the two of you laughing as your hands fall from his face to his neck and you wrap your arms around him, climbing into his lap. Steve accepts you readily, letting a big breath escape him as he tucks you into his arms. 

"Alright," he says, sighing, palm spreading over the breadth of your back. 

You press your face to his neck. "Prettiest boy ever."

"Give it a rest," he says sternly. Only glad you can't see the blush blooming over his skin. 

[niaamra]

i am obsessed with your kisses before dinner au, do you think you can maybe write something about what it’s like when the new baby is born or maybe how the older kids reacted to becoming siblings if yk what i mean? absolutely no pressure and ily!!

baby number four comes back from the hospital and steve tries not to cry about it (he fails) | kisses before dinner universe

afab!fem!reader x dad!steve (tw ment labour + pregnancy)

Steve sits down beside you on the couch with Beth in his arms and tries to calm his racing heart. To think your new baby is finally here, right here, safe and healthy and home, makes him want to throw up. He won't, obviously, but if he's a little grey around the gills that's his business. 

Avery sits on your other side quiet as a dormouse. As the oldest, she's experienced this twice before. She can't remember when Bethie came home because she'd been so young herself, and Steve suspects she might not fully remember meeting Dove for the first time either, but she remembers to be quiet and gentle, and that's all she really needs to do. 

Steve had wanted to bring them to the hospital to see you as soon as the baby was born, but Robin, rightfully, encouraged him to wait. He agrees now, because after labour you hadn't looked yourself. You'd been tired and sick. "You're having the next one," you'd joked. He had laughed until he cried, emotional from seeing you screaming and sweaty, his hand reduced to mush. Steve had been beside himself. He loves his girls, but he doesn't love how they came into the world. Seeing you that way… he can't regret getting you pregnant, not when he has all these beautiful babies, but he feels something similar. He feels better now that you're home.

"Tada," Steve whispers in Beth's ear. "There's your baby sister." 

"Another one?" you'd asked when you found out the gender, defeated but not really. You'll love whatever you're given. He loves that about you, and he feels the same. "Steve, come on." 

"It's not my fault!" he'd insisted. 

"She's really small," Bethie whispers back. 

"You don't have to whisper, sweetheart," you say, your face flopped against the couch cushions. You're still sapped. "She has to get used to all your voices." 

Bethie stands on Steve's leg and holds onto your shoulder. He grabs her waist in case she takes a spill, letting her peer down into your arms at the face of her new sister. Her lips part. 

"I think," Steve says, squeezing gently, "we finally have another one who looks like mommy and you." 

"I think so too," Avery says quietly. 

"Yea?" 

"She's got mom's nose." 

"Little," you joke, giving Avery a playful nudge with your elbow. "I think so three." 

You swap. Steve gets to hold his new baby and you make as much room as you can in your lap for the oldest two, wincing when someone's knee jabs your sore stomach. He's about to tell them to climb off of you when you wrap your arms around them, hiding your face in Avery's soft, silky hair. She got nearly everything from Steve, including how much she loves being cuddled, and she melts like butter in the sun at your touch. 

"I missed you, mom," she says. "Please don't have more babies for a while." 

You laugh. You all know Steve wants an army. You also know Steve wants what you want. You could never touch him again and he'd be okay with it, somehow. Safe to say, you won't be having any more babies for a while, if ever again.

"I missed you too. Three days without you is three too many. And don't worry, my love. Me and daddy aren't having anymore for a long, long time." You peek over Avery's shoulder and smile. "I wish we didn't make such pretty ones. Maybe I'd be less tempted."

"That's all you," Steve says. 

Bethie slouches to rest her weight on Steve's arm. God, he'd missed his girls. He'd been hoping your time in the hospital would be quick considering you've had three before, though they've been varying degrees of difficulty, and almost always made you poorly. That hope had been struck down fast, and Steve had just done whatever it was he could do to keep you breathing and smiling. He must be good at it, because four babies and eight years later he can still make you laugh between pushes. 

He's, pardon his language, fucking amazed at what you can do. And he's so in awe of his life, his family, his girls, he finds himself welling up for the tenth time today, the perfect tiny face of your newborn a blur in his eyes. 

Bethie pats his arm as he sniffles. 

"You want a hug?" she asks knowingly. 

"Yeah," he says. "I do. Thanks, baby." 

"I'm not the baby," she says, draping herself over his shoulder. He drops his face against hers and sniffles some more. 

Dove wakes up a little while after that, and when she calls, "Mommy!" from her crib you're thrilled to be able to go get her. You're still kissing her when you reach the bottom of the stairs, your nose sliding over her chubby cheeks as you coo praises at her. 

"I missed you so so much, my love," you say, softly and brightly, affection dripping from every syllable. "Mommy missed you sooooo much. You've been such a good girl for daddy and Aunt Robin, I know you have." You beam at her tiny dimples. She beams back. "You want to meet our lovely new baby?" 

Steve doesn't get too cut up about his family anymore, but he can't imagine his mother ever holding him so tenderly. He thinks she must have, once. Or maybe she didn't. There's no way to know, he only remembers growing up with that spearing sense of loneliness heavy in all his bones. 

Robin, his best friend in the entire world, had absolutely healed him. When he met you, he didn't have to worry about being enough or being too much, he'd just loved you. You'd filled those last cracks, and his daughter's pretty much erased any trace of them. 

He's so lucky. He could cry again, but the tears give him a migraine and he needs to be right as rain for the nights to come. 

You sit down. You smell familiar, and your smile curves under his ear as you drop a kiss against his wane skin. 

"Are you alright, Stevie baby?" you ask softly, one part concerned and three parts fond. You know what he's thinking. 

"I've never been better." He reaches out to comb a rogue strand of hair from Dove's face. "Are you ready to meet your new little sister?" he asks her. 

Dove glares at him. He wouldn't expect anything less. 

[niaamra]

I've never been this attracted to someone's nose before

[niaamra]

speak now it's really loud in my headphones this is fucking so good.

laugh like lovers, kiss like friends

you're getting married – steve’s in town for the ceremony and it dredges up old memories, ones you thought you'd forgotten, but you have to decide, will you say ‘i do’ or will your heart realize what you really want has been there all along?  | (  9.1k, angst, fluff, friends to lovers, steve x you, steve x reader )

L A U G H L I K E L O V E R S, K I S S L I K E F R I E N D S 🎶 cold water swimming, quiet houses

“How about these, dear? Eucalyptus pairs lovely with peonies. Besides, wildflowers for a wedding? In all my years as a planner I’ve never seen it. No one does it. It's just tacky, hon.”

Twirling the stem of a daisy between your fingers you bit the inside of your cheek, only half hearing the woman standing next to you among all the buckets and vases of flowers in the greenhouse.

Wildflowers for a wedding? No one does it.

Pulling your eyes off the daisy you forced a smile, “Of course, I’m sorry. Peonies sound great.”

“Wonderful, I’ll add it to the day-of agenda and make sure the florist knows you’ve made up your mind. It’s an excellent choice, one your fiance will be happy with I’m sure.”

Your fiance.

Sam proposed less than a month ago in the kitchen of your little downtown Indianapolis apartment with his grandmother’s ring. A huge, gaudy diamond that made your hands look even smaller than they already were and after you’d called your mom the news had spread like wildfire.

Sam didn’t want to wait, he probably would’ve dragged you down to the courthouse if it hadn’t been for his parents and your mom, but it meant things were moving at the speed of light and you were running to catch up.

When he’d looked up at you, ring box outstretched, you knew what your first thought should’ve been. Tears and overwhelming joy and a resounding Yes! but none of it came. Instead your first thought had been long stalks of grass. The glittering turquoise water of the quarry. Skunky weed and wildflowers and hot, sticky Indiana summers.

Steve.

“Babe, you gotta call the bakery back, the lady doesn’t get it. Idiot,” Sam’s voice cut through into your thoughts and you blinked them away.

“What?”

“The cake? She’s not getting it. I told her we wanted vanilla, like actual vanilla not that imitation shit.”

“Julie’s not an idiot,” your tone grew clipped, short, brow furrowing as you folded your arms across your chest. Julie had lived in Hawkins since before you family moved in across the street from her. The only, and best, bakery in town with the sweetest baker known to man. Julie was a saint.

“Okay, well then you try and explain it to her. I’m done,” Sam huffed, pinching his nose between his fingers and shaking his head. “I’m gonna go get food with my mom. Can’t wait until this is all over,” he grumbled under his breath, “I’ll see you back at the house.” And with that he hastily pressed a kiss to your forehead before stalking out of the greenhouse.

“Not really a man’s arena is it,” the planner said giving you an overly sweet smile, “Better to let us take care of it, hm?”

“I guess,” you couldn’t bear to force another smile, “Thanks for your help, but I need to go get ready for tonight. Call me if anything else comes up.”

“On it and don’t you worry, only a few more days. Just think! The happiest day of your life!”

The happiest day of your life.

It sure as hell didn’t didn’t it feel like it.

The high vaulted ceilings in your parents’ living room looked the same as they had when you lived there. Same ugly, bumpy texture and yellowed color, now with a few too-high cobwebs just out of reach hanging in the corners. The buzz of conversation filling the air around you was incessant, blending and blurring together and making you feel like you were far away. Like you were a spectator and not the bride-to-be and your chest squeezed with nerves. There were so many people packed into the house and as guests hurled their questions at you, your anxiety only grew.

“Oh, sweetie you look amazing! You’ll be a beautiful bride!” “Tell me again, where are you going for your honeymoon?” “Sam is such a catch, does he have any brothers? Just kidding! But seriously?” “Oh my god, look at that ring! He must really love you.”

One of Sam’s cousins had been hammering you with question after question, barely giving you any room to reply and you felt like you were drowning in it. The walls of the living room suddenly felt like they were closing in on you, making you feel claustrophobic, and you needed air. Outside. Anything other than this. “Is it warm in here?” you stuttered, pulling at the collar of your dress.

“No? What d’you mean–”

“I’m sorry, excuse me,” you didn’t wait for her to finish and instead moved as quickly as you could through the crowd, trying not to project your panic with a fake smile plastered on your lips until you reached the slider door.

“Honey!” your stomach sank. Your mom. “Your aunt and uncle just got here, you need to say hello!”

Looking over your shoulder she was standing with her hands on her hips, brow furrowed in frustration, watching as your fingers gripped the handle of the patio door.

“I know,” your voice was edged with irritation and you bit your tongue. “Please? I just need some air for a minute. I’ll be right back,” and you could tell she didn’t like your answer, but she didn’t fight you on it as you slipped outside, all the noise and voices and music blunted and sliced in half as you shut the door behind you.

Leaning back against the glass, eyes closed, you pulled in a breath of air and let it out slowly. Trying, telling, yourself you had to keep it together. Just a minute out here and you’d feel right as rain. Ready to dive back in.

The happiest day of your life.

“Shouldn’t you be inside?”

Your eyes flew open, an all-too-familiar voice making your heart leap into your throat.

He was sitting on the edge of one of the pool loungers like it was nothing, a few locks of stray hair falling into his eyes, all warm honey and burnt caramel and the boyish grin he was giving you made you feel dizzy.

“I’ve been inside for like two hours,” you shot back, but you couldn’t ever bring yourself to really sound mad at him.

At Steve.

“Well don't sound like you’re having too much fun. Not like you’re getting married in three days or anything,” he teased, scooting over on the lounger, a silent invitation for you to sit next to him and you took it.

“Don’t remind me–” fell out, “–what I mean is, just planning everything has been...a lot.”

Steve caught your slip up, but didn’t call it out only humming in reply as he threaded a hand through his hair, watching as you settled down next to him. “I’m about a month late, but congrats,” he offered with a small smile before taking a drink from his beer.

“Oh, yeah. Thanks,” you replied lamely, cheeks flushing when he looked over at you. You were entirely too sober for this. “Here, gimme that,” reaching over you took the beer from his hand, chugging half of it in one go and pulling a laugh out of Steve.

“Jesus,” Steve laughed, amused at you, a sound you’d missed so very much. “Take it easy,” he chided gently, but it was all warm and sticky sweet like popsicles on a hot day and when you gave it back he shook his head.

Silence lingered between you for a moment, the static sound of the pool filter trickling in the background, and your thoughts drifted back to the last time you’d seen him. Steve.

Bobbing along to the music coming from your stereo, you crammed the last of your photos into one of the empty supply boxes Steve had brought over from Family Video.

“I wanted to be with you alone and talk about the weather, but traditions I can trace against the child in your face won't escape my attention,” you sang a little off key, giving your shoulders a little shimmy as you turned to grab the pile of books on your bed.

“You keep your distance via the system of touch and gentle persuasion. I'm lost in admiration, could I need you this much?” Steve sang back, browed knitted together in dedication to the bit, hips swaying as he wiped down your dresser. Turning with the roll of paper towels in his hand he held it out to you as the chorus neared, both of you singing horribly.

“Oh, you're wasting my time, you're just, just, just wasting time!”

“God, who’s gonna sing shitty with me when you’re not around?” Steve tossed the roll onto your bed, leaning back against the drawers behind him.

“Robin sucks more than I do,” you shot back, and Steve mumbled in agreement.

“Yeah, but she hates Tears for Fears,” there was a slight whine in his voice that made you look up at him over your box and grin.

“Well then save it for me when I’m back on Christmas break.”

Steve gave you a pout and folded his arms over his chest, “That’s like, a fucking eon from now.”

“It’s not that long,” you moved around the other side of your bed to sit in front of him, a small pause swallowing you both into silence. Clearing your throat you dropped your gaze down your shoes, kicking them in time with the song still playing in the background. You glanced over at Steve’s dirty, beat up Blazers and smiled. “I guess I’ll miss you,” you teased, looking back up at him and he gave you a small smile, but it softened the longer he looked at you.

“I know I’ll miss you,” he said, and you knew he meant it, and your heart fluttered in your chest like a bird caught in a cage as the air around you grew thick with words unsaid, but implied. Steve took a step away from the dresser, standing in the V of your legs, hand moving to lift your chin up with his thumb and forefinger.

You bit your bottom lip between your teeth, meeting his gaze, and everything felt hazy. “Miss you too, Stevie,” you murmured and he leaned down slowly. Tilting your chin ever so gently he hesitated for just a second before pressing his lips against yours. Your room and half-packed boxes and everything fell away in the warm, glittering feeling of Steve and summer and the last of the light falling through your window washed you both in gold like it wanted to hold you in that moment forever.

“How long are you in town for?” your voice broke the silence between you and Steve took another drink of his beer.

“Just til the day after the wedding, need to get back to things,” he said softly, stealing a look at you out of the corner of his eye, smiling at the way your nose scrunched up when you were thinking, “You look really pretty by the way.”

Your cheeks warmed and you stole a look at him too, “You have to say that.”

“No I don’t. I do on your wedding day, but this is a freebie,” he teased, trying to make it seem lighter than it was, but you both knew the weight it carried.

“Babe, c’mon. You gotta get back inside. It’s rude. People are looking for you,” the sudden sound of Sam’s voice sliced your moment in two and Steve sat up straight, leaning away from you as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“Alright, I just needed some air,” your voice sounded tired and Steve caught the look in your eyes as you roughed your hands over your face, “I’m coming.”

“Harrington,” Sam snipped, and Steve gave him a big smile, knowing just how much the other man hated finding the two of you sitting together.

“Sammy,” Steve teased and you had to bite back a laugh, hiding it in a cough, but Sam knew.

“I fuckin’ hate that,” Sam gave Steve a look and he just smiled.

“I think it’s cute,” you chimed in, but knew you should’ve kept it to yourself when Sam glared daggers at you.

“Inside,” he said, patience short, and you felt your own run out as you glared right back, but moved toward the slider door anyway.

“I’ll see you,” you told Steve and just before you slipped back into the chaos, he gave you a look. The same one you remembered from that hot summer evening in your room as you packed your life into boxes. A look that put fire to the embers lying dormant in your chest and something you thought had been extinguished flickered back to life.

“Sam, hurry up, we’re going to be late!”

“I’m trying. You know how much I hate being outside. These stupid boots are too tight and–” Sam grunted, leaning over to tug at his socks, “–these are itchy as hell.”

“You don’t have to wear them, but your legs are gonna get bit up and scratched on the trail,” you shook your head, yanking your own worn-in boots onto your feet.

“Bit? Are you kidding me?”

“What? It’s summer, there are a ton of bugs out right now.”

Sam sucked in a breath and put his face in his hands, standing on the other side of the bed from you. He’d agreed to it at first, thought maybe it might be a quaint little jaunt through a park, but when he realized it was an actual hike up the bluff just outside Hawkins – in nature – he’d thrown a fit.

It was one of your favorite places, a special piece of home, and you were going to go with or without him.

“Just stay home, Sam. It’s fine,” you huffed, kicking your suitcase shut, tugging your ponytail through the back of your baseball cap.

“You know what? Maybe I will. This whole place is too much. Jason’ll get beers with me,” he growled under his breath, yanking his boots off to get to his socks, “Enjoy your hike.”

“Great, thanks, will do,” you almost left the room without saying goodbye, but something made you hesitate and you paused for a second at the door, eyes squeezed shut. Why was everything so damn hard? This was supposed to be easy.

The happiest day of your life.

Resigned, you turned around and walked the few steps over to Sam. “I’ll see you when we’re back,” you muttered, bending down and brushing a hasty kiss to his cheek.

“See you,” he didn’t meet your gaze, instead scowling at the ground and it was the push you needed to leave, the weight on your shoulders lifting as you hurried down the stairs and out the door.

The sun was just coming up, painting the sky cotton candy pinks and blurred warm tangerines. You could feel the heat already and as you got out of your car at the bluff the feeling of the sun on your bare legs pulled a heavy sigh from your lungs. Breathing out the stress and pressure of the last few days and you closed your eyes for a minute, leaning against the warmth of your car.

It would be okay. Today was for you. This was for you.

Opening them again you heard another car rumbling up the dirt road behind you and when you turned around you grinned so big your cheeks started to hurt.

“OH MY GOD,” Robin squealed. She practically leapt out of the backseat of Steve’s BMW and ran over to you, gathering you up in her arms and squeezing tight. “What the hell! You look amazing! Shit. Is this like, pre-wedding glow or did you stop eating meat or something? I hear it’s like, totally bad for your skin.”

“Robin,” Steve shook his head as he shut his car door before walking around to get Robin’s too.

“What? All legitimate questions! Right, Eds?” she shot back.

“I mean, not the first thing I’d ask,” Eddie replied with a grin, but you could hear the softness of him behind it.

“Alright, well I wouldn’t expect you to know anyway. Weddings are like a foreign language to you plebs,” Robin said simply, clicking her fanny pack around her waist.

“Hey, that’s not fair, I know enough,” Steve chimed in, propping a hand on his hip and giving Robin a look.

“Children, not about us today!” Eddie chided, following after Robin and gathering you up into one of his bear hugs. “Hi, sweetheart,” he held you out at arm’s length and gave you a warm Eddie smile.

“Hi,” you grinned back, the happiest you’d been in days just listening to the comforting sound of your friends bickering, “Missed you.”

“Mmm, you too,” Eddie hummed, shooting a quick glance over at Steve. “Some of us more than others,” he said a bit quieter, bringing his eyes back to you and you felt your cheeks flush.

“Okay, hike?” you deflected, then accusingly looked back at Eddie, “You’re not still smoking are you?”

“Only on Wednesdays,” he flipped back casually, but you knew he was full of shit.

“Munson, you’re a horrible liar,” Steve drawled, rolling his eyes, starting the walk to the edge of the bluff. “Nance and Jonathan are already at the top,” he said over his shoulder, “Jonathan wanted to get a time lapse of the sunrise.”

“Oh, sick,” Eddie clapped his hands, “I gotta see it. C’mon, Buckley get with it.” He waved an arm forward, pulling Robin into a jog and you shook your head with a soft laugh as you caught up with Steve. Starting up the bluff two by two.

The sounds of everything coming to life swirled around the four of you as you walked. The buzz of the insects, birds chirping their morning songs and tractors rumbling to life in the fields alongside the bluff.

Home.

“God, the last time we were up here was so Dustin to talk to Suzie,” Steve half-laughed, Eddie and Robin walking just ahead of you. You grinned at the memory.

“Oh no,” you shook your head, “They might be worse than we are at singing.”

“Didn’t think it was possible to be honest,” he teased gently, smiling over at you, looking for a long moment before dropping his gaze back down to his feet.

You could feel his eyes on you and the warmth of it filled you up and spilled over at the edges, making you happier than you’d been in a long time and a tiny pinch of guilt squeezed in your chest.

“Thanks for getting up so early,” you exhaled, breaths getting heavier as the incline of the bluff steepened, Steve pulling in a breath next to you.

“Oh, I don’t think I’ve slept in since high school,” he waved you off, “Managing a store’s got me up ass early every day. Besides, wouldn’t miss it.” Arms swinging at your sides, his fingers brushed against yours as you walked and the embers in your chest glowed bright.

“Yeah,” you sighed, wishing that for once Sam had come along. That he’d put even a little bit of effort into your interests. That he’d care even a fraction of what Steve cared and the embers flickered again with your frustration.

“You two are slow as hell!” Eddie teased and when you looked up you saw he and Robin had been moving much faster than you and Steve. “I’m smoking a victory cigarette at the top!” he yelled and Robin smacked him, both of them dissolving into laughter.

“C’mon, that asshole doesn’t need another cigarette,” Steve’s brow furrowed in frustration and he picked up the pace, pulling you along with him as he lengthened his stride.

Jonathan and Nancy were waiting for the four of you at the top and, much to Eddie’s dismay, Robin beat him by a couple of feet, stealing his cigarettes and jamming them into her fanny pack as punishment. Jonathan had asked Nancy to marry him two years ago now, Christmas eve under the tree at his mom’s place and they’d eloped that spring there on top of the bluff. It had been a small, but sweet ceremony, with only family and close friends. Perfectly Nance and Jonathan and as you thought back on it your stomach twisted with a longing feeling.

As you sat scattered among the long grass in pairs, Eddie and Robin, Nancy and Jonathan, you and Steve, breeze picked up and blew past. It pulled the wildflowers around you with it and you watched as the buttercups danced in the wind.

You wanted wildflowers. Not peonies and eucalyptus.

“Hey, where’d you go?” Steve’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts and you looked over at him, sat close enough to you in the grass that you could see all the little moles and freckles that dotted down the line of his jaw, his neck, the exposed skin along the top of his shirt.

“Flowers,” fell out and you didn’t shy away from him, meeting his gaze.

“Flowers?” he asked, brow knitting together in confusion.

“Stupid flowers. And cake. And nature and socks and–”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Slow down. What are you talking about?” Steve scooted closer to you, your legs pressing together as you sat facing each other and he put a hand to your knee.

Your throat tightened and you felt tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, but you willed them away. Not here. You didn’t mean it.

“Hey,” he said softer, hand lifting from your knee to press into yours and you blinked hastily, pulling in a breath to steady yourself.

“I don’t know,” you started, closing your eyes for a minute, trying to ground yourself. “I just–I thought this would be easier. We’re supposed to be in love and planning this should be fun, but it sucks and he–” catching yourself you looked back up at Steve and felt him squeeze your hand. “I’m sorry, it’s just stress. I shouldn’t–”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Steve said, thumb brushing over the bump of your knuckles, soft and warm and reassuring.

He was looking at you again like he had at the welcome party, like you were the only thing that existed in that moment and you felt yourself moving closer, your legs hovering over his with the lack of space.

“I wish Sam would look at me like that,” you whispered and Steve’s lips parted in surprise, anticipation grabbing hold of both of you as the wind picked up again.

“He’s an idiot if he doesn’t,” Steve whispered back, leaning closer still and you could feel his breath as it warmed over your cheek. The scent of his shampoo and spearmint gum and cedar and wildflowers flooding your brain and making everything feel hazy. His eyes all bright amber and flecks of gold in the sun. Closer and closer and closer and–

“Harrington! You left the food in the car!”

Leaning back from each other you felt the tension shatter with the bark of Eddie’s voice and you leapt to your feet.

“God, what a dingus,” Robin grumbled, “Now we gotta go back down.”

“Hey,” Steve scrambled to his feet ignoring them, grabbing your hand in his, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine. I just–I forgot I have to meet with the baker today about the cake this morning.”

“Oh,” Steve’s expression was edged with concern and he let your hand drop as the others started moving to the top of the trail.

“Rehearsal dinner is tonight right?” Robin asked offhandedly, grabbing a piece of licorice from her fanny pack.

“You have licorice in there and didn’t offer me any??” Eddie accused.

“Yeah, tonight at seven at Hop and Joyce’s farm,” you said, trying to sound casual, but the warm feeling of Steve was still holding you tightly.

“Open bar?” Eddie grinned.

“Oh my god, Munson. Shut up,” Robin chided, shoving him as they all wandered down the path in a line, you and Steve bringing up the rear.

“Course it’s open bar,” you tried to laugh, but it fell short, everything felt like it was crumbling now.

The breeze picked up, swirling around your feet, carrying spearmint and Steve’s shampoo and boy with it and as you watched the bachelor buttons sway with the wind you felt a thought gnawing at the back of your mind.

What if.

There was still time.

Nothing’s permanent.

People change their minds all the time and…

Come over here. All you've got is this moment, twenty-first century's yesterday. You can care all you want, everybody does, yeah, that's okay.

“Chug, chug, chug!” “Don’t be a pussy, Jason!” “No way, he’s too old!”

It felt like you were back in high school throwing a rager over at Tina Rochester’s house not having drinks after your rehearsal dinner, but after most of the ‘adults’ had all gone home things got carried away.

Hop and Joyce’s farm was far enough outside of town that the noise wouldn’t bother anyone and thank god because it was loud. Maybe open bar hadn’t been the best idea, but Sam was having a great time, smiling and laughing for once and you didn’t fight it. You were having fun too.

“Ohhh! He did it!!” “Get that man a medal!”

Jason Carver, Sam’s best man, crushed his empty beer can under his foot to whoops and hollers. You weren’t sure who started it, but someone had told someone else they could shotgun a beer faster and it spiraled from there. Sam was in his element, partying alongside the other ex-basketball players, and for a minute you felt like maybe things would be okay.

Gathering you up in his arms, Sam spun you in a circle, pressing his lips messy and drunk against your cheek. “God, babe. Should be illegal to look that good,” he slurred into your ear, arms still holding you tight as he lowered you slowly back to the ground.

A grin tugged at the corners of your lips. “Gonna write me a ticket?” you teased and he reached a hand around to grab at your ass.

“Maybe I will,” he breathed and you felt a shiver run down your spine, but then a voice pulled him away.

“Sam? Oh my god!”

Carol and Tommy. Great.

“Carol?? I didn’t think y’all were getting here til tomorrow! Tommy, you look like shit,” Sam barked a laugh and lunged at his old friend, grabbing him around the waist and pushing him across the patio.

“Fuck off, you’re one to talk,” Tommy growled back, digging his hands into Sam’s ribs and both of them fell back into their old selves. Talking about a couple of friends that had gone pro, work, what married life was like for Tommy and Carol.

“Babe, go get me another beer, huh?” Sam said over his shoulder and you rolled your eyes, but giving Carol a quick hug you made your way over to the keg.

Priming the tap you started to pour beer into a cup, but it sputtered and choked before spilling foam and you frowned. “Piece of shit,” kicking the keg you shook the garbage can it was sitting in and tried again, but this time nothing came out.

“Need a hand?”

Eyes still on the keg you sighed, a smile pulling at the corners of your lips as you dumped the foam in your cup onto the ground. “Tapped already,” you grumbled, turning around to see Steve grinning at you, hands jammed in his pockets, tie loose and hanging around his neck and you swore he was the most handsome human being you’d ever laid eyes on.

“Hmm, I don’t think so,” he took the last few steps toward you and primed the tap again, giving the keg one firm shake, and grabbed the cup from you. Foam started coming out and you jammed your tongue into your cheek.

“Ha! Told you–”

But then the foam turned into cold, amber beer, and you clamped your mouth shut.

“You were saying?” Steve teased and you shoved him, spilling some of the beer that he’d just poured into your cup on the ground. “Hey! You’re a menace,” he chided softly, shouldering you back, but grabbing the spout again he filled the cup once more and handed it back to you.

“Thanks,” you muttered, glancing over at him as you took a sip.

“Sam seems to be having a good time,” he commented, finding a cup of his own and filling it.

“Yeah, right back to high school.” You watched as your fiance, Tommy, and Jason all snickered and laughed at each other, talking about ‘the good old’ days, and your smile fell.

You couldn’t remember the last time he laughed like that with you. When he was drinking he got more handsy, liked to keep you close to his side and brag about how you were about to get married, but nothing about how hard you worked or the fact that you were saving up to buy a place.

“I dunno,” Steve sighed, taking a drink of his beer, “I don’t miss it.”

“Me either,” you agreed, glancing up at him, and your heart stopped.

God he was pretty. The string of lights that wound around the property washed him in a warm glow. Hair falling out of place as the night spun on, the line of his jaw cast in half light, dark and strong, the long sweep of his lashes as he blinked and looked down at you, the way his lips pulled up into that smile.

“What?” Steve asked, tone amused and playful and your eyes grew wide.

“What?” you echoed stupidly.

Steve laughed and gave you a lopsided smile. “You tell me, you’re the one zoning out,” he teased and your cheeks flushed.

“Oh, n-nothing,” you stumbled over your words and quickly filled the silence with another gulp of beer.

“Okay, well when it comes back to you lemme know.” His eyes lingered on yours for just a moment longer and then a look came over him. Like he remembered something. “Oh, hey. C’mere a minute,” and then he was grabbing your hand and pulling you around the side of the barn.

As he pulled you into motion you felt just how buzzed you were and a giggle pushed itself through your lips. “What the hell are we doing?” you asked, Steve loosing a laugh of his own as he yanked you both to a stop a few yards away from the party out in the long grass of Hop’s field.

“There,” he said pointing up and you followed the line of his arm into the sky until your eyes landed on it.

“Oh,” you breathed, pulling your gaze back to Steve as he looked up into the inky black expanse of the Indiana night. He was just how you remembered him. Hair messed, all boyish and eyes full of wonder and curiosity, just like he’d been those years ago that night in his backyard while you floated in his pool.

“Yeah, that one. Right there,” Steve swam closer to you, grabbing your arm, fingers folding yours in to make a point and tugging it up over your head.

Your breath hitched in your throat as his legs brushed against yours under the water and it took everything you had in you to pull your eyes from him to look up.

“See it?”

“That one?” you asked, pointing on your own, and he nodded as your eyes trailed up the line of your arm to land on an especially bright star.

“Mmhm,” Steve murmured and all you wanted was to look at him again, so you did. “While you’re gone you can just look up at that at night and think of me,” he said matter-of-fact, giving you one of his lopsided grins.

“What if we’re not looking at the same time?”

“I’ll always be looking,” Steve’s voice was barely above a whisper and the way he looked at you made you feel like you might melt. Blinking water from your lashes you lifted a hand to his cheek and at your touch his hands slipped along the bare skin of your waist, sliding down to your hips as he slowly pulled you into him.

The pool filter was humming heavy between the all crickets and frogs and lightning bugs, but you knew the thudding of your heartbeat was louder than all of it.

Wrapping your legs around Steve’s torso, you laced your fingers at the back of his neck, wanting him closer and tighter. Hair messed and flat against his forehead, his lips were parted as he breathed you in, water dripping off the end of his nose and eyes glittering in the pool lights, burnt caramel and honey and if he hadn’t been holding onto you, you would’ve floated away.

His fingers pressed into the soft skin at your hips and you sucked in a small gasp.

“Sorry,” he whispered, and you shook your head in reply. It’s okay. And then he gently pressed his thumb to the corner of your lips, swallowing against his nerves, and asked, “Can I kiss you?”

Heart racing, fingers still tangled at the back of his neck you whispered, “Yes.”

“Remember when we found it?”

Steve’s question brought you hurtling back to the present and you shook your head, heart racing in your chest like it had that night in his pool. “Of course I remember,” you murmured, and you knew you were crossing a line, knew you shouldn’t have done it, knew Sam was just around the other side of the barn, but something in you snapped. Shifted. Decided it didn’t care and you took Steve’s hand in yours.

His eyes flicked down to where they were joined and then back up to you, “But–”

“We’re friends,” you reasoned softly, “Friends hold hands.”

“Are we?” he asked and you swore you felt your heart crack as your fingers scrambled to tangle up with his.

“Yeah. Yes. We are,” your words came spilling out, the beer spidering warm and hazy through your body as you tried to justify your action and Steve’s brows furrowed as he dropped his gaze.

“I should go,” he said and regret gripped you like a vice.

“Don’t, please don’t,” your tone was almost pleading, watching as Steve’s eyes fluttered shut for a moment, working through his own decision and you thought for a minute he would cave like he always did for you, but then his hand was untangling from yours and the ache in your chest was almost enough to pull tears from your eyes.

“You’re getting married tomorrow,” he said, voice thick and low, and when he opened his eyes finally to look at you, you saw a thousand I’m sorrys, all the regret and lingering kisses on hot summer nights and promises whispered in the dark and you shook your head.

“But it’s not–we can’t–please stay,” nothing you said made sense and Steve ran a hand through his hair, pulling his lip between his teeth.

“Get some sleep. I’ll see you at the church.”

And as you watched his figure walk away, silhouetted and dark against the indigo sky, your star blinking bright above you, you felt tears finally well up and spill down your cheeks.

Sucking in a breath you turned back to the the wide open expanse of field behind you and buried your face in your hands, trying to calm down, willing the tears to stop, telling yourself that you loved Sam. You were getting married. The ring on your finger a constant reminder of what was supposed to happen tomorrow and when you finally lifted your head from your hands your eyes fell on a bright patch there in the field at your feet.

Wildflowers.

Walking back to the party felt like a blur, Steve’s words playing over and over in your mind, and when you came back into the glow of the strung up lights your eyes searched frantically for Sam. If you could just hold his hand, pull him in close you’d know you loved him. Would know you wanted to marry him, but he wasn’t there and everything felt like it was unraveling.

“Hey, are you okay?” Robin’s hand was at your elbow and when you looked up at her, her brow furrowed with worry. “Whoa, what happened?”

“I just need to find Sam, have you seen him?”

“Yeah, yeah I think he was just over here, c’mon. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I just need Sam,” you choked out, Robin’s hand grabbing yours and pulling you along.

“Okay, we’ll find him, it’ll be okay.”

And as you rounded the corner into the quiet of the barn you heard hushed voices. Robin flicked on the overhead lighting to reveal Carol and Sam talking, huddled close to one another and your heart stopped in your chest.

“Wha–Sam? Carol?”

Carol’s eyes went wide and she took a couple steps back, giving you one of her smiles, all flimsy and saccharine sweet. “Oh my god, we thought you left!” she exclaimed, trying a laugh and you heard Robin mumble something under her breath next to you.

“Well, I didn’t. It’s my rehearsal dinner.”

“Babe, we were just trying to plan a surprise for you. For tomorrow, that’s all,” Sam said, taking the few steps toward you, taking your hand in his, but you felt sick to your stomach. You knew that look in his eye, his tone of voice overcompensating for something, lying.

“Yeah! Totally,” Carol said a little too enthusiastically and Robin had had enough.

“Oh my god, totally great!” she mocked, throwing one of Carol’s empty smiles back at her before taking your hand. “It’s super late, Carol. Time to go,” this time Robin’s voice was void of all joking and the look she gave the other girl was enough to push her to leave.

“Absolutely, sure thing. See you tomorrow! Can’t wait,” she purred, but her smile faltered as she met your gaze, walking quickly back out into the night.

“Babe, we really were planning a surprise, I–I just want tomorrow to be perfect,” Sam took your hand from Robin, shouldering her out of the way and she scoffed, still lingering in case you needed her.

“In here? In the dark?” your voice wobbled a bit as you realized what you were implying and Sam squeezed your hand, but it felt suffocating not warm or safe like Steve and you pulled it away. “I’m gonna go home, get some sleep.”

“Of course, baby. Whatever you need,” Sam crowded around you, rubbing your shoulders and pressing a kiss to the nape of your neck, but you didn’t want any of it and shrugged him off.

“Can you give me a ride, Robs?” you asked, pulling away from Sam, your feet not moving you fast enough.

“Yeah, yeah I can give you a ride,” Robin took your hand again, Sam finding himself alone in the wide expanse of the barn on the eve of your wedding.

The happiest day of your life.

“Listen, can I tell you something?” Robin said shifting into park as she turned down the radio and idled in your parents’ driveway.

“Sure,” your voice was small, timid, not you as your thoughts still lingered on what Steve had said. What Sam and Carol had looked like huddled close together in Hop’s barn. Asking yourself why. Asking yourself what you really wanted.

“I don’t think you should get married.”

Your head whipped up from your lap, brows knitted together. “What?”

“I don’t think you should get married,” Robin said again voice softer this time, knowing the weight it carried as she let it settle in the car between you.

“It’s literally happening tomorrow. What d’you mean don’t get married,” you were scrambling now, afraid of what would happen if you let her woods take root, the doubt that had been hovering deep down now pushing itself front and center.

“People do it all the time–”

“No, they don’t!” tears were welling up against your lashes, your face growing hot, willing yourself not to fall apart.

“Okay! Okay, I’m sorry. Of course I’m gonna support you no matter what you decide,” Robin quickly recovered, grabbing your hands in hers as her expression softened. “Just–” a small sigh escaped her and she squeezed your hand, “–I want you to be happy. That’s all. Are you happy?”

Are you happy?

Robin looked at you, eyes wide, hands still holding onto yours and you felt yourself wrestling with the three simple words she’d thrown at you. Swallowing thickly, you couldn’t meet her gaze and pulled your hands away, grabbing at the door handle.

“I’m happy, I am,” and even you knew how flimsy it sounded, but your friend didn’t push you on it.

“Okay, okay. See you in the morning,” Robin said softly and all you could do was nod in reply before shutting the door and hurrying up the walk and into your parents’ house.

You didn’t bother showering as you moved quickly up the stairs to your room, not wanting to face your parents, not like this. Quietly shutting your door you felt the sob in your chest clawing its way up your throat and you tried to swallow it down as you threw back your covers and hid in the deep pile of blankets. You thought for a split second to call Sam over at Jason’s, ask him if he really loved you, if he still wanted to go through with this, but you buried your face into your pillow and tried to push your thoughts away.

Doubt had started blooming in the pit of your stomach from the moment you’d said yes, but it had just felt like the next right thing. Felt like you were supposed to. Date your boyfriend for a couple of years, move in together, get married. Right? But the things you tried hard to ignore kept bubbling up.

Your hesitation when Sam first asked you out. Your trips home on breaks and seeing Steve. The feelings you wrestled with when you saw him. When he talked to you and listened, really listened and looked at you. How it felt like a giant weight being lifted from your shoulders without Sam there.

Your first fight with Sam over money. How he spent so much of it going out with his friends. How you knew they stayed out late and talked to other girls. The high he got from it too much to stop him from doing it. The smell of the other girls on his clothes.

The first time he cheated on you and begged you to take him back. How the first person you wanted to call was Steve, but you called Robin instead.

And now the planning. All the disagreements and arguing and fighting and you were exhausted and he couldn’t even keep away from other women, from Carol, still after all that time.

Are you happy?

Robin’s question looped in your head and you knew the real answer.

No. But then…

Tap. Tap, tap tap.

Peeking your head out from under your covers your ears strained, trying to decide what it was you’d heard. Then it happened again.

Tap, tap. Tap.

There was only one thing that could make that sound, an all too familiar one that pulled forth a flood of precious, happy memories.

Rocks on your window.

Steve.

Crawling out of your bed you hurried to your window and yarded it open, sticking your head out and looking down like you’d done hundreds of times before. “Steve?” you hissed into the dark, and as the wind blew the clouds away from the moon, it shone down on the lawn below you washing Steve in soft light.

“Can I come up?”

You bit your bottom lip between your teeth, but knew there was no debate. “Yeah, hurry up,” and you moved out of the way as he started climbing the gutter before you’d even said yes.

Stumbling in through the open window Steve straightened up and dusted off his old, faded Hawkins High Athletics shirt, a pair of grey sweatpants hanging on his hips, the same pair of dirty, beat up Blazers on his feet.

“Hi,” he said awkwardly, tongue jammed into his cheek as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“Hi?” it came out expectantly, a question, but you couldn’t hide the relief in your voice at the sight of him standing there in your room.

“Listen, I just wanted to say sorry. For earlier,” he said, walking to your bed and plopping down on the messed up covers.

“Oh, that’s okay, I shouldn’t have–”

“Just let me apologize,” he said shaking his head with a half laugh, expression mismatched as it twisted with something between regret and care.

So you listened and kept your mouth shut, instead deciding to settle down next to him on your bed, thighs pressed together on the small twin sized mattress. Silence lingered for a minute, but the air was heavy, loaded, like how it felt right before a thunderstorm. The sky holding its breath before opening up and pouring rain, cracking the sky in half with bright streaks of light.

You both stole a look at the same time and it pulled a smile from each of you, tiny breathy laughs falling from your lips, but when it quieted again the tension flooded back in.

“Do you love him?” Steve broke the quiet and you felt your chest tighten. When you hesitated he grabbed your hand in his. “Do you?”

Your pulse fluttered against your neck, your mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water and stumbling and choking on your words, but you knew the answer. You both did. You’d just admitted it to yourself before Steve had fallen through your window and the familiar feeling of panic started to creep in around you, flinging you back to right before you’d left home again. Before you met Sam.

“Steve! Wait!”

You were practically running after him as he stalked back to his car, the sky on fire with the sunset and streaked in cherry reds, sunflower yellows, and bright tangerine.

He fumbled with his keys and dropped them into the grass at his feet, “Shit.”

“Please, just wait,” you were out of breath as you finally reached him and you saw his frame crumple as he loosed a sigh.

“Jesus, what?” his tone was short, clipped as he stared through his car window, your reflection playing against the glass.

“It’s only for another year, it’s not like I’m gonna be gone for–”

“Yeah! Another year!” Steve spun around to face you, cheeks red and lips pulled down into a frown, a muddied mixture of sadness and anger swimming in his eyes. “Just admit it, you don’t wanna come back here, and that’s fine! But don’t make me wait. Please don’t make me wait anymore. It–” Steve choked on his words and dropped his eyes to his feet, biting on the inside of his cheek to blunt the feelings swelling his chest. “It hurts. To sit and wait here for you. Please,” his voice edged on pleading and you felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes.

“It’ll work! It’s just a little longer–”

Steve took a step into you, crowding over you, and you felt your heart stutter in your chest at the closeness of him. He lifted a hand to your cheek, his brows pulling together as he looked down at you, eyes searching yours. “Then be with me. If it’s not that long then be with me. Long distance for a little while until you’re done with school,” he said, voice barely above a whisper.

“Steve. I can’t–” your throat tightened around what you were about to say, scared of what that commitment looked like, scared to fuck it up between you, scared to lose your best friend, but your hesitation broke it anyway.

He dropped his hand away from your cheek, tongue flicking out to run along his lips as he held back his anger. His sadness. Frustration. Snatching his keys from the grass he unlocked the driver side door and flung it open rough.

“No! Wait! I just mean–”

“No!” he shouted into his car and then lowered his voice, tears streaming silently down his cheeks, “No. No more. Good luck with…everything.” And he piled into his car, slamming the door shut and ignoring your cries as you crowded against his window, asking him to stay. To talk about it. To figure things out, but he shifted it in drive and took off down your driveway and into the night.

You weren’t going to fuck it up. Not again.

“No,” and as your admission left your lips the heavy weight that had settled on your shoulders over the last two years started to melt away. “No. I don’t love him.”

Steve’s hold on you tightened, pressing your fingers into his palm and he lifted his free hand to your cheek, eyes searching yours, “Don’t marry him.”

Don’t marry him.

Your breath quickened and you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, trying to reason out what you’d just decided and you felt anxious, but Steve was there. And your room was warm and safe. Just like it was when you were younger. When you both laughed and traded secrets and made promises to each other in the dark.

“But. The wedding. The flowers, the cake, the guests–”

“Fuck ‘em,” Steve said, still holding onto your hand, and his words swirled around in your head. “It’s only a wedding. This is your life,” brushing the rough pad of his thumb across your cheek you closed your eyes and leaned into his touch, “You’re not happy.”

And you weren’t. You’d had moments with Sam, moments in time where things felt right and like maybe it could be forever, but they were just that. Moments. It shouldn’t be this hard. You’d sacrificed, compromised, bent and twisted yourself to be what Sam wanted, what he needed, not what you wanted and when you finally looked up at Steve you felt tears welling up against your lashes.

“What will my mom say,” your voice wobbled as you tangled your fingers with Steve’s and he gave you a small, reassuring smile.

“She wants you to be happy too. She’ll be okay.”

You were dizzy, hazy with thoughts of not being engaged anymore, buzzing with the anticipation of what this decision meant. Of what it held. What the future could be and you looked back up at Steve, tears started to quietly spill down your cheeks and his hand was quick to gently wipe them away. You shook your head, holding your breath, and when you let it go everything came tumbling out.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry for making you wait. For hurting you. For everything–”

“Shh, it’s okay,” Steve softly chided, but you pressed on.

“No, no it’s my turn,” you said, voice thick through your tears, and then you turned to cup Steve’s face in your hands. A small smile pulled up at the corners of your mouth even through your crying and you pulled in a breath, “I love you, Stevie. I always have.”

The look on his face then was one of pure adoration, of relief, and he gave you a smile back, “I know. I love you too.”

I love you too.

Pulling him into you, you felt the soft warmth of his breath across your cheek, the smell of his shampoo and fresh laundry flooding your senses. Hesitating, waiting for him to tell you it was okay and he silently answered you by leaning in and closing the gap between your lips, pressing his softly into yours.

It was slow and languid, a thousand I love yous. Years of want and aching set free into the dark of your room as you breathed each other in like air. The feeling of Steve scattering you out into the stars to live with the one you’d deemed as yours, falling between all the glittering constellations and floating in each other.

I love you too.

Reluctantly Steve pulled away from you, eyes fluttering open to look into yours and he took hold of your waist. “Run away with me,” he whispered.

Your brows pulled together, “Run away?”

“Yeah. Right now. Throw your suitcase in my car and we’ll just drive. Get away from everything, just for a little while until you’re ready.”

Mind racing, working through the logistics of what he was suggesting, you almost protested, but something in you fought back. Told you to listen to your heart, not your head. What did you want? What would make you happy?

“Okay.”

“Really?” Steve’s face lit up at your response, like he hadn’t expected it, and you felt your lips pull up into a smile, tears drying on your cheeks as you let the feeling swallow you up in its warmth. The embers in your chest crackling and flickering with life, with a fire that burned only for him.

“Yeah, yeah I don’t care. I just want to be with you,” you felt yourself grow more and more confident, more decided and Steve pulled you in again to press another kiss to your lips. This time it was hotter, bolder, a confession of passion and you grinned into him.

“C’mon, if we go now we can get coffee at that shitty diner just off the highway outside of town,” he was grinning now too.

“They make the best pancakes,” you laughed softly and Steve’s smile melted as he looked at you.

Finally.

He helped you gather your things, carrying your suitcase out to his car, and you felt like you could fly. Lighter than you’d been in years and the thought of just driving down the road with him filled you with warmth. Like watching the sun set at the end of a hot summer day. Like dipping your feet in the pool after sitting in the heat. Sweet like the taste that followed after a tart drink of lemonade.

You left your engagement ring on your dresser, a small folded note under it for Sam telling him sorry. Telling him you hoped he would find what he wanted. That you knew he’d be okay. And as you closed the door to your parents’ house you felt like you were closing that chapter. Ready to start new. To free fall into this open-ended story with Steve and as you settled into his car your eyes caught a small patch of lawn on the side of your house. Bright and soft in the moonlight and full of color.

Wildflowers.

[niaamra]

time for more mike appreciation because ppl are too mean to him!!! he’s just a little guy!!

#My son deserves to be appreciated. #He's just a scared boy

[niaamra]

social etiquette for a beautiful stranger | steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: the wonderfully complicated ordeal of your ordinary becoming his special OR the time steve wouldn't go with you to a zombie festival but did read The Feminine Mystique and liked it [wc: 8.6k]

warnings fem!reader, steves pov, pining steve, fluff, slight hurt/comfort college au, friends to lovers, reader is poetic as shit (very me coded so sorry bout it), ft. dustin and robin being the best friends, cruel college girls, slow burn, not really proofed, lmk if i missed anything!

i'm actually incredibly obsessed with this and am begging you all to talk to me abt it (asks, reblogs, replies, ANYTHING) bc i love them and also if you hate it you must hate me bc this reader is so me coded its crazy (that last part is a joke...no it's not) ...ALSO people by agust d is what was playing in my mind when i wrote this so i implore you to check out the lyrics and also listen to the song bc he as an artist is everything to me

⤜♡→

In the interest of nostalgia everything remains as it were, traced with the faint dusting of fingertips too fearful of a future unsure. You never knew what it would be like in a room that’s not altogether yours, one that’s nearly taped down the center with an invisible line as if to claim “Don’t touch my stuff and I won’t touch yours.” Your bedding and the pictures plastered to the adjacent white cinderblock not seeming half as interesting as the pale blue Cindy Lauper on the other side of the room. 

It’s difficult to catch the moment you surmised your strain of voice and reclusive behavior made you just like everyone else, that is to say, no one at all. 

You aren’t the girls two rooms down who nearly exclusively leave their door open, the lip caught on a piece of wood shaped like cheese to stop the hinges so anyone could come in. You’re far too unagreeable to get on with the ones who knock on each other's doors for sport, picking at the knick knacks on their neighbor’s dressers and playfully pocketing the ones they seem most fond of. There never seems to be any conversations in the lounge that catch your attention long enough to have you considering an off the cuff response, sidling up to casually insert yourself between tweed skirts and turtleneck sweaters. 

It appears to you as if you’ve been cast out with the ease of cruelty only girls seem to possess at this stage in their life. The one they attribute to the horribly difficult situation of being here, a place characterized by the nebulous flutter of a manicured hand.

But if you were to crawl out of your own skin and materialize as someone of new name and face, if you were to ask “What’s with the girl in room 302?” they would all guide you with a vague cast over their shoulders as if said girl is lurking in the far corner, the one with the uncomfortably wobbly armchair, advising that she’s simply too interesting to bother with. 

But as it were you’ve yet to configure the idea of this momentary abandonment of self and you’ve failed to find your way across the room where Robin Buckley leans forward along the fuzzy brown loveseat and whispers this very question to a junior who’s taken pity on her wide eyed uncertainty about the whole thing. 

“Too interesting? That doesn’t seem right because I mean wouldn’t you wanna know more about her? I know when I was into…—well anyways I’m just saying has anyone actually tried to talk to her?” The disinterest in the subject is nearly driving Robin to madness. 

The urge to pelt Steve with the change from her can of coke is the reason she’s perched on the edge of the sofa, because she’s positive he’d agree with her if he paid a lick of attention where he sits to one side flipping through an outdated Vogue. Especially taking into consideration his secret infatuation that led them to the sleepy lighting in her dorm's lounge area.

“Look.” Robin can tell the girl—she’s only slightly guilty she never bothered to ask her name because certainly if she wanted them to know she would’ve said—wants this conversation to be over but still leans forward intent on her next words. “It’s nothing against her, but haven’t you noticed the way she’s so…obscure?” 

“...obscure.” Steve’s paying attention now, bored with the magazine and ready for the pizza Robin promised. He glances around the room then, always on edge when he visits her, like he’s stepped into a world he’s not altogether prepared for. When he finds you in the corner he realizes the topic of conversation is more to his interest than he thought.

“Not in like a bad way but I mean, have you seen her? Even her room is just so involved.” 

“You’ve been in her room?” Steve is minutely throttled by a tinge of jealousy, always curious of what lies behind the twin door. Wondering if it’s the same as his own, bed pushed beneath the window and everything else thrown up haphazardly, or if you’re more precise in your decoration. 

“No, no I was in Clara’s room but Y/n is her roommate—that’s hardly the point. What I’m saying is she’s very smart and romantic but in that difficult way no one understands.” 

The way Steve tilts his head stupidly, ignoring the split ends dangling in his peripheral, is imploring enough for further explanation. He’s not sure whether he should be sheepish or maintain insistence that nothing he’s heard in the past few minutes makes sense. 

“You know, like…Sylvia Plath.” The citation is meant to mitigate the addled crease in his forehead, but as far as Steve’s concerned this girl has never seriously read Plath in her life. Not that he has either, but that’s far from the point. “It all sounds pretty and melodramatic but what is she really saying?” 

“What is who saying?” A new girl materializes before Steve can think of something smart to say. Her hair is pinned up and she’s wearing a dress the color of a wilted banana.

“We’re talking about Y/n.” Steve wants to say that they aren’t talking about you, rather he had a curiosity that was now nearly as confused as when they’d sat down. Though that would require the intense dissection of an innocent question. One guided by intentions that he couldn’t begin to explain as the effect of an identity hindered by the misguided moral high ground of newly adult teens in the nineteen-eighties.

It would also require their willingness to let him participate in their mind boggling repartee. Neither of which pose themselves as viable options as it stands.

“Oh she’s so smart.” The new girl drops her bag, pushing into Steve’s side when she plops on the couch. “Kathy, isn’t she just so smart?”

“So smart. I’m just too embarrassed I’ll make a fool of myself if I even try.” Kathy giggles, like it’s absurd that anyone could have that effect on her. “Heather talked to her once at the beginning of the year. Tell them, Heather.” 

Steve has failed to deduce whether their periodic inflections of voice are a result of unnecessary emphasis or some secret amusement he’s yet to catch onto, but Heather appears overjoyed to have been asked about her run-in with the obscurity taking up residence on the third floor. 

“Well it was just a second, but it was at the start of term party one of the frats was throwing. Now that I think about it, I can't even believe she was there.” Not that he would agree, but Steve couldn’t believe it either. The only reason he was there is because he all but dragged Robin so he could scope the place out. “Anyways, I asked her if—”

“She asked her if she’s a virgin!” 

“Kathy.”

“Well you did, Heather.” 

“Yeah, but it’s just a thing you ask frosh! You make it sound like I was being harsh.” 

“No one’s asked me that…” Robin hushes to herself, but both girls crowd her all curious eyes and sly smiles. She burns beneath their perfectly winged liner, attention drawn to the condensation of her can resting on the table. 

“Well are you?” 

It seems a ritualistic task to stand scrutinized by these upperclassmen. To allow them to dress her down until it becomes impossible to deny them the truth. Steve begins to wonder if it were her fate all along to wander unawares to the uncomfortable sofa, whether this is the moment she either proves herself to be worthy of the attention they’ve so generously showered her with or not. 

He knows she doesn’t need them, she has her own friends and her own interests, but he understands her desire to be accepted in this new place. To be regarded as more than a band geek slinging ice cream at Scoops Ahoy or rewinding tapes at Family Video.

“I’m…I only did it once.” She relents, perhaps too easily they both decide afterwards. She’s flustered and unprepared for any string of questioning that might follow, the abundance of words she has constantly balanced at the tip of her tongue either gearing up to be her greatest ally or her worst enemy and Steve only hopes it's the former.

“Sure, that’s all it takes really.” It sounds patronizing but Kathy sobers quickly when she and Heather burst into another fit. “Was he your boyfriend or just convenient? My first time was with my boyfriend but sometimes you just take what you can get.”  

“Oh uh…” Steve’s prepared to cut in when Robin seems to shrink into the cushions.

“Kathy, don’t be so crass.” Heather shrieks, rolling her eyes at the question that is somehow more invasive than its precursor according to her. “You’re a good sport. Y/n wouldn’t even answer, outright refused really.”

He can tell Robin feels stupid. Of course you wouldn’t answer, maybe she shouldn’t have either. It’s clear Kathy and Heather are getting more out of her than she’s getting out of them. Steve regrets her bothering in the first place, but stows the impending nausea over time wasted and truths easily spilling over in favor of letting her talk herself out of this. 

“You know, I have to go actually. We’re gonna grab pizza and I wanna call my friend before it gets too late. He doesn’t live on campus, too young really. Sometimes he doesn’t answer the phone the first time so I have to make sure I have time to call more than once because I don’t wanna miss him again—”

“Chill! We totally get it, go call your friend. Be sure to tell him about your new friends Heather and Kathy.”  

“Smooth.” Steve jests when she tugs him from the sofa. Her shoulders relax and she growls in the direction of his boyish grin releasing him at the threshold.

“Shut it, dingus. I swear you better make me your best man after this shit.” 

“What!? You didn’t even get anything out of them!”

“Whatever, pizza’s on you.” 

~*~

The next time Steve sees you, you’re lounging by the lake in the center of campus. He takes careful care to consider your position, a healthy distance from the water with the back of your hand resting across your forehead to shade yourself from the afternoon sun. It’s not too pretty out, the trees taking on the shape of almost dead rather than the delightfully golden hue that kicks in mid-September. 

This far back he can still see the purple of your knitted turtleneck, tucked into the dark corduroy skirt rising above your mid-thigh to create a tantalizing expanse of bareskin leading to your shiny black oxfords. 

He takes a turn, dipping to glance at his blue jeans and the Hawkins High hoodie he probably should’ve left to rot in his closet back home. It seems pointless to change completely, so he shoves the hoodie over his head and wraps it around his waist. 

It’s uncharacteristic. The way he strolls over, hands snug in his pockets like he’s just interested in the murky view of the pond and straggling geese enjoying the frigid stillness atop the surface. He doesn’t know if he’ll say anything, completely unprepared to wow you with the impressiveness that only seems to appear in times in need of immediate action. 

He’s feet away now, glancing at you every few steps. You’re still unmoving and he wonders if you’re sleeping. If you’ve found the lake to be the only place fit for such things. There’s a book resting in your other hand, thumb nudged between the pages to hold your place. 

“The Feminine Mystique.” You sigh, startling Steve into nearly tripping over his own feet. Your voice is so pastel and ethereal that it caresses his ears on its way to settle into his brain, slowly permeating like spilled paint. “Woe to misogyny and all that.” 

“Oh, yeah...fuck misogyny.” A cringe follows, his mind conjuring the idea that Robin’s found a new method to tally his defeats already. He stills watching you center yourself on the palm that previously shaded you and lifting the book to regard the teal and creme cover. 

“Have you read it?” Steve is startled by your subtle disregard for the invasion of privacy. It’s an emotion furthered by the frayed paperback extended toward him . “Here.”

“But you’re only halfway—”

“S’not as good the second time. I was so put off I got distracted by a bird flying just there, it was watching me too I think.” You shrug, dropping it in the grass when Steve doesn’t immediately take it. Your finger lifts to guide him to a cardinal perched in the nearest tree. You don’t say more, guiding your attention to the lake, neither a dismissal or an invitation so Steve takes the initiative to lower himself, grabbing the book.

“Thanks.” A gust of wind shoves against the pair of you, Steve perfectly clear on why you’re the only person out enjoying the weather. “It’s pretty chilly out here.” 

“Well you did take your sweatshirt off before you came over.” You hum, grazing Steve’s hand when you lift yours to tug at the hem of your skirt and he swears he can smell vanilla and chamomile. You don’t allow him time to be embarrassed about it, already onto the next topic. “Wanna go see a movie?”

“A movie?” He reddens, placing the novel aside in favor of rubbing his sweaty palms against his thighs.

“They’re having a festival at the theater, ‘Zombies Through the Ages’.” You say ‘Zombies’ like you think it’s a ridiculous concept, but there’s a delighted rise in octave toward the end of the phrase that says otherwise. It’s difficult for Steve to sift through your intentions and settle on anything more than your desire not to sit alone in a darkened theater watching corpses tear into flesh. 

“I…well you don’t even know me.” It comes out more accusatory than he intended, and Steve is kicking himself with his ratty sneakers when he sees the way your muscles flatten at the words. You sober rather quickly, standing from the grass and swaying on your feet. Steve untangles himself from the criss-cross that held him so perfectly in place like he had no intention of rearranging the words to shape them into his true meaning.

“Right.” 

There’s a moment of silence then and Steve supposes that perhaps both of you are trying to think of something to say. It seems silly to be sitting in the grass, making a fool of himself in front of the only girl he’s really wanted to talk to since Nancy but somehow there’s no other choice. 

He’s accidentally framed you in the obscurity with which they’ve all painted you as, because now it seems to have leaked into his brain and taken hold of his speech without his knowledge or consent. It feels bitter and lofty in the back of his throat, especially when he remembers how it felt to be that person to some extent.

He hadn’t noticed it before but you reach to secure an olive green messenger over your shoulder, the straps of faux leather already beginning to peel near the buckle. He watches you reach halfway toward the discarded copy of The Feminine Mystique but retract almost immediately. He wouldn’t blame you if you took it back. There’s a dreamy look in your eyes when you finally manage to find him with them and it’s hard for him not to think about how you’re so pretty. 

You’re so pretty and he’s mortified when your lips kissed beneath the cold and injured by his harmful speech attempt the baseless ruse of a thoughtful smile. 

“I have to go now, Steve.” 

~*~

“I’m an idiot.” 

“Well yeah, but it’s not your fault. Are we still on for next weekend? I’m not driving all the way there if you’re just gonna ditch me like last time.” 

“First of all don’t say it like you’re the one driving. Second, for the last time, I didn’t ditch you! I’m positive the words ‘Dustin don’t come’ left my mouth about ten times before you showed up anyways.” Steve currently stands with his back against the wall, leg propped up with the payphone tucked against his ear scoffing. 

Robin’s still in class for another twenty minutes he waited forty for a phone to clear up after you traipsed off and Dustin isn’t being the least bit sympathetic after he relayed his glaring miscalculation. 

Steve wouldn’t know that you pulled yourself from the reality of that moment by imagining it hadn’t happened at all. By pretending that perhaps Steve Harrington was nothing more than a figment of your imagination sent to prepare you for the harrowing realization that you aren’t meant to separate from the unhappiness that clings to you so desperately for a while yet.

“Whatever. Are you seriously panicking? You were nervous, I’m sure she didn’t take it personally. Just apologize.”

“Are you missing the part where she got up and left? I’m pretty sure she took it personally!” He draws the attention of a group of upper class girls known for scrutinizing every little thing. He offers a weak apology, too caught in his own detriment to really feel any remorse.

He wonders when it got like this. The whole thing really.

Constantly curious about everyone around him, yet ignoring it all the same. The choice to keep walking when sniffles echo beneath the doors, questioning his own importance when giggled whispers pass in the halls. The confounded hopefulness when girls who seemed too out of reach offer just a sliver of kindness, some untamed humility to guys like himself. Unsure which ones to trust and which ones to fear. 

An unkindness, all of it. 

“Steve?” 

“What?” 

“Were you listening to anything I said, dumbass?”

“Not likely. Forget it, she’s too real for me anyways. Gave me a copy of The Feminine Mystique.” The copy is currently laying atop his desk, right next to the battered copy of Lord of the Rings Dustin gifted him for graduation. He stared helplessly at it for thirty minutes before peeling himself from his desk in search of a phone. 

The book smells of faint traces of your perfume and looks almost as if it’s never been read at all. Almost. The laminate coating on the permanent jacket is only slightly creased near the binding and there’s a sticky scuff where it looks like you poorly pulled the price tag from the back. He hadn’t dared open it, too worried to face whatever overwhelming sense of you rests beyond the front cover but the pages are the color of old parchment and he thinks it makes sense it belongs to you.

“I don’t know what that means, but you’re crazy if you think you don’t deserve her. You’re the realest person I know…” He trails, as if considering the strength of the words in relation to every person he’s ever known. He imagines it's fairly simple for Dustin to deduce when considering his social circle for most of his recent adolescent years. “Well you might be tied with Max but that’s not the point really. Do you like her?” 

“Dust—”

“Do you like her?” It’s a simple question, and something he hasn’t been able to admit to anyone since the feeling slithered into his chest and coiled around his blood-pumping organ so that it oozed something deeper than the unoxidized thickness. Robin wasn’t an idiot, but even she had to dig to surmise the reason for his frequent insistence they hang in her dorm rather than anywhere else on campus.

“Of course I do.”

“Well that’s really the only thing that matters. So you can either keep whining to me or you can try again and this time don’t say something stupid when she asks you to hang out with her.”

It was easier said than done, the extra mile to see your face again without fruition most days. It seemed as if you’d forgotten the instance altogether and with it any interest in Steve at all. It wasn’t that you lacked the quiet courtesy to offer the tilt of your head or a soft acknowledgement when you crossed paths in the hall, but rather you seemed set not to relinquish to him any attention beyond it. 

He’s even stooped to the low of an uncommon interest that’s perhaps more common than he thought, cozying into one of the moth eaten loveseats in your dorm’s lounge and propping the novel you’d given him between his palms. Though he thinks he should be embarrassed it’s the first time he doesn’t feel like he’s performing but rather burrowing further into you and the curiosity of your person. His intention was to wait for you to walk through the lounge, hoping you would notice him in the corner nearest your usual spot, that wobbling armchair. He had no reason to believe he would find investment in the novel and forget about you entirely. 

“The Feminine Mystique.” Steve is startled by proximity of your body on the adjacent cushion, glancing toward the corner you most frequent, assuming someone must’ve taken it. It’s completely free. “I seem to have misplaced my copy.”

“Oh…you loaned it to me, remember?” Steve slowly slips a shred of paper through the pages, settling the volume in the space between you, measuring the distance between your thighs.

“Oh, I suppose I did. I must’ve forgotten.” 

“Do you want it back?” 

“You keep it, it’s not as good the second time I don’t think.” You repeat, digging into your bag to free a leather bound journal and a black ink pen. You open to a blank page and jot something down, lowering the book to your lap and slightly raising it again before speaking. “What do you think of it, this place? Does it give you a burning alive feeling or have you learned to step in the cold places like puddles of water? I think I’ll be burning for a long time yet, but I don’t mind. I think I’ll find an ocean eventually, I’m just too troubled by the waves and the unknown.”

The words are poetic in a way that sounds like you’re serenading him, the blush rising to his cheeks an homage to the rapid cycling where his chest pulses relentlessly beneath his polo. It’s clear you don’t think much of them, pen already scratching at the page again like you’d said nothing at all. 

Where Kathy found obscurity Steve finds awe in your speech. A constant string of words he dreams of understanding to their fullest extent because he dreams of understanding you. 

“I think in some ways it’s the same as Hawkins but also totally different, so I’m not really sure what to think yet. I miss my friend Dustin, but I’d never tell him that.” 

“Hawkins. That’s where you’re from?” 

“Yeah, it’s not very big but you’d be surprised how it feels like the biggest place in the world sometimes.” 

“That’s good. That you don’t know how you feel about it yet. I only just realized recently how to feel anything at all about such things.” You declare thoughtfully, Steve’s eyes following the way your pen traces the opening of your lips as you speak. “It’s how I found out those cool places exist, before I would just burn completely. Now I’ve taken to taming it periodically.” 

“Hey, I’m really sorry about the other day. I was being kind of a jerk but it’s only because I’m not used to people actually wanting to hang out with me. I mean, I met my best friend Robin working at an ice cream shop so she basically had to be around me all the time and the rest of my friends are a bunch of teenagers so—”

“The other day?”  

“When you asked me to go to the movies.” 

“Ah. Don’t worry, I understand it completely now.” Steve’s not sure what you understand, but it doesn’t stop the guilt from assuaging its hold around his midsection. “You should tell Dustin you miss him, I decided it just now. It might seem like a small thing but to him it could be the whole world and you would never know it.”

“He’s coming to campus next weekend, maybe you could meet him.”

“Maybe. I would like that a lot.” 

~*~

The next week passes faster than Steve would’ve liked, his newest routine leaving his nights free to spend with you on the comfortably uncomfortable sofa or lounging beside the lake, with blankets and a sweater each at his insistence. He finished The Feminine Mystique (“You were so right, misogyny sucks ass!”) and you dared him to try it a second time, he only made it to the twelfth page. 

On the fifth day, it was raining and most of the girls from your building were crowded in the lounge watching Sixteen Candles when the two of you stumbled to the entrance dripping in your raincoats and galoshes.

“Wanna go to my room?” You suggest when neither of you seem interested in the camaraderie of it. “Clara’s gone home for the weekend so she won’t be around if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Steve’s sure you’ve misinterpreted the funny dangle of his lip half open to one side when you explain yourself but he’s also not certain why you thought you had to or if you just said it. He’s still not good at reading you and he's not sure he ever will be. 

“Yeah, that’s cool.” He follows your dreamy gait to the stairs and ignores the way your hand finds gentle security around his wrist, just your pointer and thumb guiding him the rest of the way until you’re both standing before the elusive 302. Your key is dangling beneath the waxy pink of your raincoat, secured by a sturdy chain.  

“I’ve always found it easy to forget these little things, especially when I’m never sure I actually want to come back.” You lean forward enough that your waist brushes against Steve’s front, he’s standing at an angle like he’s making sure the key actually goes in. He watches you struggle to trick the lock, endeared by the way your teeth puncture the flesh of your lower lip and your brows furrow. “And certainly I often find myself thinking it’s the room that doesn’t want me.”

“Can I try?” He nudges your arm to the side, chained key dangling from the lock. 

“You think you’re stronger than me.” You huff, minutely put out by the suggestion. “Fine. But I do think it’s terribly off putting to say so when I’ve tried my hardest.”

“No, I think you’re very strong.” He shifts so he’s standing in front of the door, your breath fanning against the shell of his ear where you peer over his shoulder. He thinks the lock must be rusted because it’s not as easy as he anticipated, the mechanism taking three sharp jerks of his hand to turn completely. Moving to the side, he  allows you to enter the space ahead of him passing you the key with a lopsided grin. “But sometimes your strength isn’t always where you need it to be and it’s okay to ask for help.” 

He follows you closely, unprepared for the arrangement of polaroids framing your bed lengthwise. You’ve ordered them by color so they span a rainbow along your wall and when Steve is close enough to make out the actual images he sees that they’re stills from films spanning decades. 

Your desk is an arrangement of more books than he’s ever owned sorted neatly within the cubbies. Journals of every color to put to use the impressive collection of stationary arranged neatly on its wooden surface. Your bed is a haven of knitted blankets and patterned throw pillows complete with a well-loved blue puppy and a brown rabbit with accents of pink dotting its nose and ears. 

It feels an intimate sort of thing, you allowing him into the place you’ve fashioned as a home away from home. A hideaway from the haunting realization of everything beyond the unreliable door adorned with a chalkboard currently scribbled with hearts around the border. 

Steve finds you’ve migrated to the far side of the room, slowly removing your galoshes and placing them against a bare stretch of wall near the closet and he follows suit. 

“Did you take all those?” He asks of the photos, flicking a piece of hair from his eyes and passing your extended hand his sopping raincoat.

“Oh yeah,” You have a way of speaking that makes everything seem like it’s the most uninteresting thing in the world. It’s the breathy tone and the way you don’t actually look at him when you say it, always waiting until the last possible moment to find his eyes. “I dated a guy who worked at the theater. I think the nicest thing he ever did for me was let me use one of them after closing to capture stills. It took forever and he broke up with me after.”

“He sounds like a jerk.” 

“I don’t know, I don’t remember him much really.” You consider it for a moment, walking to the shelf nestled in the corner. “Sometimes he was there but even when he was he wasn’t…or maybe I wasn’t and I just never knew and he never said. You’ll tell me when I’m not here, right?” 

“Of course.” He whispers, satisfied with the way you smile over your shoulder at him, like it was a shy admission, your ability to drift away. 

“We should listen to something if you want. You can pick, unless there’s nothing you like, then we can just be quiet.” She motions to the lining of cassettes and Steve hopes your taste is more refined than your roommates if her bubblegum posters are any indication. 

You float away, gliding towards your bed and pulling your legs to your chest while he roots through your collection, peeking over his shoulder periodically. It’s innocent the way you rest your head against your kneecaps in your jeans cuffed at the ankle and your pink t-shirt tucked in at the waist. 

You’re staring at the downpour beating against your window and Steve finds himself wondering how you manage in a place like this, without even a hint of the antagonistic streak coating the tongues of most of the girls he’s come across. 

“Find anything?” You catch him staring and the heat of it builds beneath his collar when he turns back toward the shelf. 

“Do you and your roommate get along?” The difference splitting the room is what guides him to the topic, a reminder of the moment Kathy mentioned Clara in passing but never any regard for your relationship either way. 

“She’s fine. She doesn’t disregard me like most people anyway.” Steve isn’t quite sure what to say, the thought of you noticing the disparaging way that people consider you is enough to shatter him completely. “I really think she must be glad to get away though.” 

“Why?” 

“Wouldn’t you be glad to go far away from here?” You fall against your mattress, your arm flailing over the edge displaying a variety of charms and string wrapped around your wrist, your other hand lifting to shield your eyes. It's an exasperation Steve’s not heard from you. “I dream of going away!”

“You can, you know.” Steve pulls a mixed tape from the pile and moves to your radio. “Where do you wanna go?”

“I don’t know where quite yet, I still don’t know how I feel about my own dreams but I fear someday they’ll come true. Where do you wanna go, Stevie, perhaps I’ll just hitch a ride.” The nickname is saccharine on your lips and he almost forgets the question, especially when he tucks the tape into your player and the first song is True by Spandau Ballet. You free yourself from your cage of darkness, rising on your elbows with a sardonic smile between helpless laughter. “Oh, this is a love tape! Are you in love with me, Stevie?”

He finds it horribly unpleasant that you expect him to deny it the way he’d deny forgetting to rewind returned tapes when he worked at Family Video. He stalks over to the bed and you hold your hand out to him. He takes it and allows you to pill him to the mattress to sit with his back shoved against the wall. It’s not unwelcome when you take up your previous position, this time your head nestled in his lap with your eyes swallowing him entirely.

“Would that be so bad?” 

“Where do you wanna go, Stevie?” He’s grown used to your ability to shift, certain that you’ll cycle back eventually. It’s an admiration to him, your ability to hold off the inevitable until you feel ready to face it. Even the simplest of questions deemed a significant task of dissection. 

It doesn’t set him any less teetering on the edge in this instance, but there’s a comfort that finds the anxious pit rolling over in his stomach. 

“I don’t know. For the longest time I just wanted to get away from Hawkins, but now that I have I realize I’m not ready to leave all of it behind.” 

“The kids?” He can tell you're always fond even if you haven’t met them. He’s usually embarrassed when he slips up, used to his ego being deflated by the ones who built it in the first place. High school “friends” or flings more interested in his money than him. But your hands always settle over his when he starts to trail off and you ask so many questions that he thinks you must know them as well as he does by now.

“Yeah, I’d miss ‘em too much if I just left, ya know?” 

“What about your parents? You don’t talk about them.” 

“They’re one of the reasons I wanna get away, my dad mostly. He was always a hard ass but it got worse when I didn’t get into college. And when I did get into college he wasn’t proud or anything, just happy I’d be gone.” It wasn’t something he expected to have such a hold over him, the way his parents seemed more delighted he was leaving than happy that he made it. “He’s probably wondering how I even got in.” 

“I don’t think anyone’s ever told you Steve, so don’t laugh when I say it or you’ll hurt my feelings, but I think you’re one of the smartest people I’ve ever met.” 

“Don’t you think it’s a little mean to say something like that and expect me not to laugh? It’s okay, I know I’m not a genius or anything.” He can see that you mean it and he hopes that you go on if only to trick him into believing it as strongly as you.

“Don’t you know all those things you did were more important than anything you’ve ever thought you should’ve done? It would’ve been so easy for you to go to college and forget Hawkins, forget all of it when you graduated but it wouldn’t have made a difference and you would’ve never known it.” 

“You think so?” 

“I know it. I know that if you did things the way people think, you wouldn’t have found family and experienced life in a way that some people don’t believe exists.” You’re pleading with him, eyes glistening with something he can’t quite reach. A climactic bridge soaked in devotion now the soundtrack to your sudden speech where it floats from static speakers.

“Maybe that just makes me lucky enough to have been chosen by them.” 

“You told me that strength isn’t always in the place we need it most, well intelligence is not always where we think it should be. Your intelligence is the way you manage to shape yourself into such an affection that people don’t realize they’ve been touched by it until they’ve fallen horribly transfixed in a way that doesn’t make much sense but it feels whole. You put so much thought into the way you cherish those kids and I don’t think you even know it really, how important it is that you stayed.”

“Well my dad—”

“Your dad doesn’t know it either, Steve. I think, and it’s a tragic thought but, I think maybe he forgot you a long time ago and now you just can’t trust him because he doesn’t know anything at all.

”It is a tragic thought, but I think you’re right.” Steve is glad there’s music because the silence would’ve been deafening. To have someone find the words to explain the emptiness that filled the length of his childhood in a way not riddled with a false hope for change.

Steve isn’t in charge of his own body when his hand flutters against the skin of your cheek, tracing the softness down to the curve of your chin. It’s pretty to think about calling you his and the ability to feel you in all of your gentle caresses of touch and speech. The song is Groovy Kind of Love Phil Collins when you look up at him with a new determination, almost knocking heads when you sit up and turn towards him.  

“We should kiss.” You’ve leaned far enough forward that the subtlest of movements pushes the tips of your noses together.

“I–what?” 

“Just to see. You never said if you were in love with me and I think I just might be in love with you so we should kiss…just to make sure.” 

Steve is positive he’s always loved you, even when you weren’t more to him than another person existing somewhere without his knowledge, but his hand rests against the warmth of your cheek and he leans in a little further, breathing you in now.

“Are you sure?” He whispers, wondering if you’d been chewing bubblegum before and he hadn’t noticed. 

“Sure.” Steve could scream, an agonistic sort of sound when someone knocks on the door just as your lips brush. You’re drawn to the sound and Steve is drawn to the way your eyes widen a half step. “Oh, it must be someone for Clara.” 

You stand, pulling at the places where your shirt especially clings and go to open the door. Sure enough, Heather steps through the threshold as soon as it’s wide enough and scans the room like you’re not the reason she’s here. She finds Steve and Phil Collins and suddenly it's all wrong. 

“Clara isn’t here, gone home for the weekend.” You inform her, the door still agape in your anticipation of her immediate departure. Steve would love nothing more. 

“Oh I know, but she said I could stop by for this new red nail polish she has because absolutely nothing else would do.” The pair of you watch her navigate the other half of the room, sifting through Clara’s things and spending too long in some spots. Steve swallows hard when she looks at him, a glint in her dark eyes. “You’re that freshman’s buddy aren’t you?”

“Robin, yeah.” 

“Robin, of course. I wondered why she was asking all those questions about Y/n. You should’ve said you were interested, ‘What’s with the girl on the third floor’ sounds so accusatory.” He doesn’t dare look at you, horrified by the sudden intrusion and no less by the revelation of his transgression. “I’m glad you decided to find out for yourself! Phil Collins is so sweet for these kinds of things and I guess I have my answer now, right?” 

“The nail polish is in the drawer in her nightstand. You better just take it or I’ll have to tell her you were going through her things.” It’s strained when you speak and Heather looks at you over her shoulder and struts to the nightstand pulling the translucent bottle free. 

“Oh course, I wasn’t snooping, Clara is always rearranging her things. Thanks so much, hun. Have fun!” She slips a wink in Steve’s direction, and he doesn’t miss the extra skip in her step before she disappears leaving everything all wrong.

“You know, I’ve only met her once and I think seeing her again was far too soon for my liking.” He tries to make light of things, but the way you still stand with your body bleeding into your door makes him nervous in a normal way, no comfort to be had in the way you’re thinking. “She doesn’t know when to shut up.” 

He speaks mildly, but remorse seeps in by the end. 

“I think I’d like to be alone for a while.” You wrinkle your nose like it’s never occurred to you that you might be unsure. It gives Steve a modicum of hope.

“Listen—”

“No, it’s okay, I’m not mad. I just…I like to tame the burning, remember?” He nods and he leaves, not because he wants to but because he thinks it's better than anything he could think of saying. Especially when you couldn’t find it in you to say that you’re upset.  

It doesn’t feel fair.

He doesn’t see you at all over the course of the next week and he thinks it’s the worst time of his life. Is positive he understands the burning now.

~*~

“Don’t take it personally, he hasn’t paid any attention to me all week.” Robin assures Dustin, fresh in from his mother’s Volvo. The trio is the same as they always were in their small town, stuffed into a booth talking about everything and nothing. “I think he’s sick.”

“Yeah, lovesick.” Dustin flings a fry across the table, striking Steve in his left eye. 

“Hey, you little shit, cut it out!” He flings it right back, missing entirely much to Dustin’s amusement. “Do it again and your ass is grass. It’s a restaurant, not a playground.” 

“Come on, dingus, he’s just messing around. You could at least pretend you wanna hang out with us.” Robin shoves a fry into the glob of ketchup on her plate and shoves it in Steve’s face. “You’re being a bummer.” 

He is being a bummer, but he can’t help it. Not when you’re supposed to be taking up the empty space beside him, excited and nervous. You’d talked incessantly about finally meeting Dustin, delighted to be introduced to one of his kids. He can imagine the way you two would be going back and forth, Dustin with his scientifically analytical mind and you with your poetic way of thinking. He always thought you’d find common ground in the fantasy of it all, told you you’d love D&D and Dustin would love nothing more than to teach you all about it. 

But you’re not here and he wishes it were as easy as blaming Heather for the whole thing, but he knows that on some level it’s his ability to constantly be his biggest liability.

“Sorry, I’m just not in a great mood at the moment.” He relents, shoving the remainder of his burger into his mouth. It’s Friday night and Steve promised to take Dustin to a theater in town, they’re having some festival according to Robin. He doesn’t mind it but would rather a night in like they used to do at home. He flicks the leather band of his watch slurping at his soda. “What time do we need to get to this thing? I’m not getting stuck with a lousy seat just because you think you need to clean out the concessions.”

“What time is it?” Dustin grabs at his arm, ignoring Steve’s hard stare when he clocks the greasy stain smeared along the glass. He considers a moment, a tactful glance to Robin “We can go now, right?” 

“Oh yeah, now is perfect I think.” Robin chucks a thin band of cash to the table and nudges Dustin out of the booth. 

Steve is too caught by the seamlessness of the whole thing and remains in his seat with his hand already shoved into his pocket. “Wait. Why are you paying? You never pay.”   

“I’m being a good friend, thought it might cheer you up a little. Now come on before we're in the front row breaking our necks like a bunch of zombies.” 

He’s no more an idiot to Robin’s uncharacteristic chivalry when he spots you meandering outside the theater in a skirt that flows around your knees and a collegiate hoodie. You don’t see them coming and Steve is half content to lower his head and keep walking, but when Robin points you out Dustin bounds over without a second thought. 

“Hey!” Dustin calls, but you don’t immediately reply. Your eyes have drifted to a particularly rowdy group of students, Steve hopes they aren’t in the same theater and wonders if you’ve thought the same. He can’t imagine you did, probably something more existential that he’d take in with a kind smile but still tell you if they’re anywhere near your seats he’ll throw a fit. “Hey, Y/n!” 

“Oh…Robin, I was wondering if I got the time wrong.” You smile, not entirely acknowledging them yet. You're unsure and that simply won’t do in a group like this, one that thrives on the ability to read each other so perfectly.

“What are you doing out in the cold?” Steve manages, taken aback when  you find him so exposed beneath the lights of the theater. It’s only been a week but the loss of you was more potent than he realized, like a missing sense, something that’s horrible to live without.

“Just thinking.” 

“What are you thinking about?” Dustin offers when Steve seems suddenly short of speech. 

“I’m wondering what it would be like if I were the only person in the world. I think I would be perfect, you know. I would be perfect and then I would die, perhaps earlier than I should, and should I die there will be no one left and that’s just fine.” 

“That’s deep.” You crack a smile and Steve can tell Dustin is proud of himself. 

“You must be Dustin. It’s very nice to meet you.” 

“You too! I’m glad you’re here, Steve has been moping around all night.” Steve knocks Dustin’s signature cap from his mop of curls, the kid goes spirling after it before it becomes a casualty of the masses scaling the sidewalk.

“Don’t be a jerk, Steven, he’s not wrong.” Robin so dutifully sprinkles the last bit, holding her hand outward expectantly. “Give me your wallet, I’ll buy the tickets.” 

“What happened to being a good friend?” He challenges, still freeing his wallet from his tight denim jeans. 

“Oh, I’m being a very good friend.” Robin snags Dustin by the collar of his shirt and drives him through the entrance with careful consideration for the bodies piled outside the doors. Steve sees you reaching for your wallet and slots his hand over yours. 

“I got it.”  

“Oh that’s…” You must calculate the way his lips cave because you stop yourself and glance toward the other half of your party. “Have you really been moping? You were so excited for him to come, don’t be dull.”

“I’m not trying to be.” He sulks, pulling you toward one of the towering alcoves where no one is close enough to hear or interrupt. “I need you to be upset with me.” 

The concept seems foreign to you, like there’s no reason for such an idea to even transpire in the darkest part of your thoughts. Your fingers bunch in the fabric of your skirt, it’s solid white and Steve is wondering how many you went through before you realized no other color would go. 

“Why would I be upset?”

“Because of what Heather said, about me asking around about you.”

“Heather doesn’t know when to shut up.” You mumble, reaching for the hand hanging limply at Steve’s side. “I was never mad about it, I just—I know the things people say about me and what Heather said about knowing the answer…I wasn’t sure if that’s what you wanted, to use me and then tell everyone.” 

“That’s not what I want, please don’t think that. I wanted to know you before I heard all that stupid shit they say.” 

“I don’t, I promise.” You extend your pinky, Steve hooks it through his own and brings the connection to rest against his lips. “I wasn’t sure if I should leave you alone after what happened. You never came by or anything.” 

“I wasn’t sure if I should leave you alone and I didn’t wanna push.” 

“You shouldn’t. Don’t leave me alone.” You manage, rocking on the balls of your feet with your lip between your teeth. Steve is just about to suggest a pact, the kind established with his lips pressed against yours beneath the cover of fluorescence but he’s interrupted by Dustin rounding the corner with his arms thrown wide. 

“What the hell!? The movie is about to start and Robin and I made sure to get the best seats so hurry up!” Steve is about to tell him to get lost but you give him a terribly expressive sort of look: don’t be dull.

“We’re coming,” He doesn’t give you space to get too far, taking you by the hand and leading the way through the throngs of people, trying to keep track of Dustin bouncing amongst them. 

The seats they found were perfect, right in the center of everything, and when you stole the seat between Steve and Dustin the lights were already lowering. Robin passes along Steve’s wallet and a bucket of popcorn to share, Night of the Living Dead, the first film of your evening slate.  

It hits Steve then, with your bodies separated by the thin armrest and the pointless dialog between siblings projected on screen. A moment comes full circle, his earlier rejection taking mercy on his lapse in judgment. 

“Didn’t you already see this?” He leans close enough not to disturb anyone enjoying the film. “A few weeks ago you asked me to come.” 

“You said ‘no’.” It’s simple really, the way Steve feels in this moment like you were wrong. 

Like he’s the dumbest person in the world. 

He recalls the photos plastered along your wall, and the way it struck you as odd when he likened you to strangers. You spent hours taking those photos, pondering over the coordination of colors to paint the perfect picture of you. Steve had done nothing more than invade your privacy but in that moment you deemed him worthy of knowing some of the deepest parts of you and he only seems to understand it now. 

It’s so much more than a desire not to sit alone in a darkened theater watching corpses tear into flesh. It’s the burning. The feeling of so slowly burning alive and hoping the other person will notice just how much effort goes into that feeling of turning yourself to ashes until you find an ocean to tame it completely. A bonfire waiting for the waves to lick the sand. 

“I’m an ocean.”

“What?” Your attention had gone back to the film, the first of many zombies hiking across the screen in search of an unwilling victim. 

“We should kiss.”

“Steve, we’re in the middle of a theater and I’m not sure it’s that kind of film.” You think he’s joking until you turn, his eyes focused on you entirely. You lean in, close enough to touch, both of you hoping Heather is as far away from you as possible. You pause, the whole thing feeling fundamental at this stage, but so horribly important all the same. “...just to see?” 

“Just to see.” 

[niaamra]

Oh, you'rе a queen sellin' dreams

And you'll go on with the show

But it's never too late

To come back to my side

And damn, Dorothea, they all wanna be ya

But are you still the same soul I met under the bleachers?

And if you're ever tired of being known for who you know

You know, you'll always know me, Dorothea.

#Chrissy Cunningham #stranger things moodboard #chrissy cunningham x reader #Spotify

[niaamra]

I've been listening to Taylor Swift's Dorothea for days and all I think about is Chrissy Cunningham, literally imagined a lesbian romance between me and her.

Am I going to make a moodboard of our forbidden romance? yes, because chrissy my girlfriend.

-Anne :)

#chrissy cunningham #dorothea taylor swift #gay romance #chrissy cunningham x reader #stranger things moodboard

[niaamra]

She had to grow up, watching him go from the boy who played pirates, the boy who still slept with a baby blanket until he was eleven, the boy who attended tea parties willingly, the boy who was disgusted by the idea of kissing girls.

Promise? to Leave the Window Cracked Open

steve harrington x afab!reader words: 14,379 warnings: mentions of cancer (minor details of aftermath of treatments), minor character death, implied smut summary: Dealing with his father's presistance that he become a perfect son and being told he can't be "just friends" with girls, Steve has to learn the hard way that being popular is not what it's cut out to be. Growing up is a lot harder than it looks. a/n: i'm not *entirely* happy with this piece but my friend told me to post it anyway. so here you all go!!!

The red brick house at the corner of Dearborn Street had gone through many inhabitants. There was the weird Gibson family whose grandfather lived with them, occasionally he stood on the front porch in nothing but his house shoes. Then there were the Weirs. Their kids always came to school smelling of salami. Finally, there was the Lyons. The small town life did not set well with Mrs. Lyon, forcing her husband to sell the home after two months of living there, leaving the red brick house up for sale once again.  

One day when Steve Harrington was in the back of his father’s car, playing with two green army men, he noticed the large SOLD covering the for sale sign that had been up there for exactly seven months and three days. The next day, there was a car parked outside, boxes in the driveway, and a woman yelling at two children running in the freshly mowed grass. 

A week later, while his dad was at work, his mom drove them to the red brick house. She knocked on the door, a casserole in her hand, looking down at her son, straightening the collar of his shirt.

A woman with a bright smile answered the door, greeting the two enthusiastically. 

The two women began to talk and five minutes turned into ten. 

They weren’t paying attention so he wandered off into the yard, noticing a few toys strewn about. The summer sun beamed down on the back of his head as he hopped on the stepping stones next to the rose bushes. 

His ears perked up when he heard shouting around the corner of the house. 

He looked behind him, his mother still in deep conversation. Curiosity built inside of him, peeking around the corner he saw a younger boy covered in mud, looking up at the side of the house. Steve followed his gaze, catching the sight of a girl leaning out a window, holding a wooden sword that was pointed towards the boy. “The treasure is mine.” The girl proclaimed.

“Come on, Y/n. I wanna play something else.” The boy complained, kicking up some of the mud at his feet. There was a water hose laying a few feet away from him. 

The girl, Y/n, sighed. “Please, Aaron. Mom made her peach cobbler tonight and I’ll let you have my slice if you play.” 

“That doesn’t matter. You hate peach cobbler.” He crossed his arms. Steve could see her pucker her lip and bat her eyes. Aaron groaned, holding up a sword himself, unenthusiastically. “Come down and fight me you coward. The jeweled crown will be mine.” 

“Arrrggh!” Steve watched in bewilderment as Y/n stepped out of the window and onto the ledge, climbing down on the lattice panel that was covered in dead vines. Steve gasped when the small girl misplaced her foot, causing her to fall on the ground. She landed with a thud. 

He was amazed she didn’t cry or scream. 

He remembered two days ago when he had stepped on one of his toy race cars and cried for twenty minutes, maybe longer if his dad had not come home. 

The girl looked up, locking eyes with Steve. She smiled at him, revealing her two front teeth that were missing, quickly pushing her body up and pointing the sword in his direction. “What do we have here?” 

Steve cowered behind the corner, his cheeks were red, too shy to answer. 

“Another pirate looking for the crown, eh? Looks like you have no weapon but that stick by yer foot.” Y/n pointed to a long thick stick that had fallen off the oak tree next to her house.

Steve stepped where they could see him. “M-my mom will be upset if I get mud on my shirt.” 

Y/n rolled her eyes. “Pirates don’t listen to their mommies.” 

Her brother spoke up. “Mom did tell us not to get dirty before-” 

“Shut up.” She scrunched her nose up, examining Steve up and down. His hair was short and slicked back. His teeth were too big for his mouth. A few freckles were scattered on his face. “What’s yer name, matey?” 

“S-Steve.” 

“Pirate Steve?” Aaron laughed.

Y/n nudged him to be quiet. “That’s a lame pirate name, but it will do. When you’ve been sailing the seas as long as I have, you’ll come up with something better. Now, Pirate Steve, you will have to fight us both to the death if yer want the treasure.” The two siblings held up their weapons higher, mutually deciding to team up to fight the strange boy in their yard. Y/n took the first step toward him, her brother close behind. Finally, the tip of her sword was only inches away from his chest. 

Steve noticed the dried up mud caking her cheek, but she didn’t seem to care. 

Steve looked down at the stick, then looked back up at the siblings, then over to where his mom once stood. She had gone inside once the two mothers saw their children were talking.

Y/n leaned her head closer to him, breaking character. “Promise to not get mud on you.” She held out her pinky, and he hesitantly took it, watching with wide eyes when she kissed her thumb, telling him that’s what seals it. So, Steve also kissed his thumb. “Have any last words?” She asked, pointing the sword at his neck. 

Without a beat, Steve picked up the stick, swinging it against hers. The three of them chased each other in the yard, yelling, giggling, and clanking the wooden objects against one another. When finally, Steve had softly tapped Y/n on the side of her stomach with the sword, declaring he had killed her. She did not accept the defeat, arguing that Steve had cheated. When Steve wouldn’t let her continue on, she balled up her fist with one hand and shoved him with the other, so hard he fell backwards in the mud. 

Soon, the three kids were talking over one another in the kitchen of Y/n’s house, trying to explain to their mothers what had happened. It was clear that Steve’s mom was irritated that her son’s shirt was dirty, but still put a fake smile on, claiming kids will be kids. Then she grabbed the ten-year-old’s hand, said goodbye, and took them back home. 

Two days later, Y/n and her mother had shown up to the Harrington household. Steve was forced to come downstairs and stand in the doorway so the toothless girl could apologize. It was obvious she wasn’t that sorry, but when she revealed a wooden sword from behind her back, telling him that he could come play pirates with her anytime, a toothy grin spread across his face. 

That afternoon she also promised her window would be cracked open for him to call her to come down and play. 

Although Steve and Y/n had outgrown playing pirates together, the pair never seemed to separate. Their families thought maybe it would have been Steve and Aaron that ended up childhood best friends, but Y/n’s mom sometimes would have to beg them to include him in the things the two older kids did. 

The evening before the first day of middle school, Steve had convinced his parents to let him go over to Y/n’s, promising to be home before dark.

The bike ride was only fifteen minutes, plenty of time to see his best friend before their big day. 

Two years had gone by since he first met Y/n. Their yard was decorated differently. Her mother had exchanged roses for petunias, hydrangeas, and lilies. There was now a tire swing on the big oak tree. Aaron used to make Steve push him so hard that he went so high that he almost wrapped around the big branch. 

Steve got off his bike, setting it in the lawn, walking past the front door and over to the side of the house. He smiled when he saw the window cracked open slightly, Dreams by Fleetwood Mac drifting out. 

Her parents had accepted the fact Steve had no intentions of using the front door, never surprised to see him in her room if they opened the bedroom door. They would just ask if he wanted anything to drink, and he would always ask for a Dr. Pepper. No one in the household drank Dr. Peppers, but they always had a case just for him. 

Steve climbed up the lattice panel, the old vines had been ripped off. When he got a view of the inside of her room, he expected to see her reading or painting her toenails. Instead, she was in front of her dresser, throwing clothes behind her, groaning loudly. A messy room wasn’t shocking, Y/n was always getting in trouble for never cleaning it. But the sight Steve was looking at was horrific. “Are you rearranging?” Steve asked, sliding the window up, crawling through. 

Y/n didn’t seem phased that he had shown up unannounced. “What are you wearing tomorrow?” 

“I dunno.” He answered, smiling because there was already a Dr. Pepper can on her desk. 

“I forget. Your mommy still dresses you.” She teased him.

She loved to poke fun on how much of a momma’s boy he was. “Why are you worried about clothes?” 

She let out an exasperated sigh. “It’s the first day of middle school.” 

“So? It’s no different than fifth grade.” Steve shrugged, taking a sip of his Dr. Pepper. 

“To you! I spent the night at Tammy Thompson’s last night. Tina is a B cup now and Carol had her first kiss at summer camp.” The girl pulled out a pair of shorts, sighing when she saw the tag. 

“That stuff doesn’t matter, Y/n.” He downed the rest of the drink, belching loudly. He started to giggle, but quickly stopped when Y/n gave him a disapproving look. He frowned. She always laughed when he burped. 

“No girl is gonna kiss you if you do gross things like that.” Y/n put a hand on her hip. 

Steve still didn’t understand why his friend was making a big deal about clothes, other girls, or kissing. Why did any of it matter if they had one another? “I could be your first kiss.” Maybe if they kissed then maybe she would stop worrying about it. 

Y/n’s expression didn’t falter. It was like she hadn’t heard him. “Very funny, Steve. Kissing you would be gross.” 

When Steve had rode his bike back home— after finally convincing Y/n to wear the dress his mom had bought her for her birthday— he kept thinking about how she had reacted to the idea of kissing him. 

What made him gross? 

He was one of the cleanest boys at school. He took a bath every night, and his mom started making him wear deodorant. His hair was nice and neat. He didn’t eat his boogers like Tommy Hagan or ate dirt like Reed Booker. He’s never even had lice before. 

Had she even thought about it before? Did she lay awake thinking what if she and Steve kissed? Is that when she came to the conclusion kissing him would be gross? 

He couldn’t even sleep properly that night, tossing and turning, irritated that Y/n decided to make these thoughts appear in his head. 

It was so stupid. He didn’t even think about kissing girls until now.

Then it seemed like seventh grade came in a blink of an eye. Steve’s dad was getting harsher about grades and what Steve’s plans were for extracurriculars. “A good Harrington boy is well-rounded, who doesn’t run around and play pretend.” He would tell him at dinner, whenever he wasn’t away on business trips. He had recently been promoted at work, making him less and less available to stay home. When he was home, he was always sitting in his office, smoking a cigarette, yelling on the phone. 

But one good thing about seventh grade was that he had changed. It seemed like he had gone to sleep one night and woke up the next day two feet taller. His clothes were too small and sometimes he found himself tripping over his new long legs. 

Girls were starting to put letters in his locker, and sometimes he caught them giggling on the other side of the gym during PE, watching him play basketball. He would blush when the other boys would nudge him, pointing out which girls they thought were cute. His attention would then turn to Y/n, standing in a corner by herself jump roping, obviously annoyed that the other girls were gawking at him.

Steve didn’t understand that she had no friends except for him. All the girls pretended to be friends with her and then they would ask about Steve. Steve this. Steve that. Quite honestly, she was sick and tired of them always talking about her friend. There wasn’t anything even spectacular about him. He still had too large teeth for his face and he always burped or gave her wet willies. When Y/n fed them the answers they wanted, they’d never speak to her again. She never told him that was the main reason she stopped going over to Tammy’s slumber parties. 

Steve on the other hand, didn’t mind the attention. His new popularity with the girls changed his social status with the guys as well. Soon, he was roped in with Tommy Hagan and spent his lunch period, sneaking off in the woods by the school to smoke cigarettes with one other boy, Carter Adams. 

One particular chilly day, Tommy shushed them when he heard giggling coming from their spot. They all hid behind the wall that bordered the school, peering over to see two high schoolers making out against a tree. 

Steve immediately felt uncomfortable, whispering they should probably go, but Tommy grabbed him by his jacket, pulling him back. “Ten bucks says he’ll grab her tit.” Tommy told the boys. 

“Ten bucks he’ll grab her ass.” Carter challenged. 

“What about you Harrington?” Tommy asked, looking at him with a smirk. “Tits or ass?” 

Steve shrugged, glancing nervously back at the school, praying a teacher would catch them so he could get out of the situation. “I dunno.” 

“Have you even kissed a girl before?” It had been known that Tommy had kissed lots of girls. 

Steve looked at the ground, shaking his head, regretting telling the truth when Tommy and Carter laughed quietly. “What about your girlfriend?” Tommy raised an eyebrow. 

“What?” 

Carter poked his side. “He’s talkin’ ‘bout that girl you’re always with. Have you kissed her?” 

“Y/n? She’s not my girlfriend. We’re just friends.” Steve answered. 

The two boys next to him exchanged a knowing look, trying to hold in another fit of laughter. “Boys and girls cannot just be friends, Harrington.” 

Steve furrowed his brows. He didn’t understand why it was so wrong to be friends with her. She wasn’t mean. Except the other day she did smack him upside the head because he put his armpit in her face. He understood he had it coming. 

He should have told the boys he didn’t care what body part the high schooler grabbed. But he knew if he didn’t say anything, they’d stop wanting to hang out with him. He peeked back over the wall to see the couple again. “Tits.” 

A part of him regretted participating in the bet, mostly because he had lost ten bucks, but also because it seemed to be the rite of passage to be personally invited to Tommy’s girls and boys party the next Friday. 

Steve was nervous. He had only been to birthday parties with parents watching their children closely as they swam in the pool or played on the swing sets at the park. This was different. 

Tommy’s parents were out of town, his big brother in charge and Tommy gave him two months worth of allowance to buy everyone beers and keep quiet. 

He kept looking over at Y/n, who was walking next to him, pulling down the uncomfortable itchy yellow dress she decided to wear. “Did you really have to wear that? You look like Big Bird.” Steve poked the puffy sleeve, warranting a slap from her. 

“Shut up, or I’m going home.” She warned him. 

“You can’t because you promised.”

Steve had climbed through her window, begging her to come with him. He had to lie to her that Tommy wanted her to come. She still wasn’t convinced, but agreed nevertheless. 

“Maybe fun for you. You’re cool in their eyes.” She crossed her arms and pursed her lips. 

“Once they get to know you they’ll see how cool you are too. Listen, we’ll stay an hour tops and if you are ready to leave, we’ll go. I promise.” He stopped walking, looking at the white house that belonged to Tommy. He stuck out his pinky towards the girl. 

She gave him an unimpressed look. His attempt to pull the pinky swear trick they used to do three years ago was a cheap gimmick on his part, knowing she was a sucker for nostalgia. She tried her best not to break, but when he leaned forward, looking at her with his wide brown eyes and toothy grin made her roll her eyes, sighing in defeat. She wrapped her pinky around his and they both brought their thumbs to their lips, locking the promise in place. 

Tommy’s brother was the one who answered the door, leading them to the door of the basement. 

Y/n scrunched her nose up when the smell of cigarettes and beer greeted them at the top of the stairs. Steve decided to ignore it, walking down the creaking wooden steps. When Tommy saw him, he immediately jumped up from an old battered brown couch, announcing the arrival to everyone in the room. He tilted his head slightly, frowning when he saw trailing behind Steve. He quickly wrapped an arm around Steve’s shoulder, pulling him to the side away from the girl. “I told you not to bring her, Harrington. The girls here are gonna think you two are a thing.” 

Steve looked over at Y/n. She was looking over at a group of girls huddled in a corner, looking between her and him, whispering. “Tommy, give her a chance. She’s cool and really funny when you get to know her.” 

The lanky boy whose breath already smelled like beer and cigarettes sighed, agreeing to let her stay. He then turned around, clasping his hands together dramatically, announcing it was time to play truth or dare. Steve felt his heart drop in his chest, looking over at Y/n who seemed to still be observing the room and the people that filled the space up. She always did that before interacting with anyone, studying them quickly in her mind.

He was about to tell Tommy he didn’t feel good and had to go home, but was shocked to see Y/n confidently walk towards the circle forming on the floor, plopping down next to a boy he didn’t recognize. Steve gulped, deciding to sit between Carter and Tina. 

The rules were simple, either tell the truth or do the dare and if anyone chickened out, they had to take a drink. 

Secrets were spilled, kisses were exchanged, someone was dared to lick the bottom of Carter’s foot, but no one was chicken enough to take the first sip. The longer Steve sat on the cold concrete floor of the basement, the longer it felt sticky, hot, and damp. The air was almost suffocating as he anticipated his name to be drawn out of Christopher Smith’s baseball cap. When his name finally did get drawn, it took him a moment to process when Carol had said it. 

He knew Tommy would give him shit if he said ’truth’ but he was afraid of what Carol might ask him to do. “D-dare.” 

Carol smirked, sharing a look with Tommy. “I dare you to kiss the prettiest girl in the room.” It dawned on him that this party had been a set up the entire time. Tommy was throwing Steve into the lion’s den, forcing him to finally catch up with the rest of the grade and kiss someone. But Steve had never thought about anyone in the room like that before. Sure Heather Holloway was cute, but once in second grade she threw up on his new pair of shoes. He could still smell the fish sticks burning in his nostrils. 

Then there was Beth Johnson, she wore braces and was always wiping dripping saliva off her chin. No way. 

Carol was pretty, but Tommy had a crush on her.

Which meant the only two girls left were Tina and Y/n. 

He tried to see how Y/n felt, maybe she would give him the face that said “Kiss me Steve!” But there was no sign whatsoever of what she wanted him to do. He remembered a year ago when he had suggested being each other’s first kiss, but she was revolted by the idea, telling him kissing him would be gross. He remembered from then on, he couldn’t stop wondering what it would be like to kiss her. 

Carol had said he had to kiss the prettiest girl in the room. To him, Y/n was by far prettier than any of them. The longer he looked at her, the more he began to admire her features. Her puffy cheeks, her nose, the way her eyes gleamed from the bright yellow dress she wore. The other girls in the room looked so dull compared to her. 

He debated the consequence of taking a sip of the beer to get out of it. 

The choice was so simple and easy to him, but he was confused. Y/n was his best friend, he couldn’t think of her like that. He most definitely couldn’t kiss her either. 

So instead of crawling across the circle to kiss her, he turned and gave Tina a quick peck on the lips. 

The basement erupted in hoots and hollers, making Steve blush. 

It was Steve’s turn to pick a name. When he reached in the hat, he frowned, realizing there was only one piece of paper left– Y/n. Her face was still stoic. “Y/n, truth or dare?” He asked her, mind buzzing with what he should say. 

He should have known she would pick dare, never backing away from a challenge. However, a few minutes passed by, struggling to come up with anything. He looked at Carol for help, who immediately accepted. “Write down the name of the one person you want to kiss in this room, then put a blindfold on and wait for them in the closet.” She pointed to the closet that went under the stairs. 

Y/n didn’t hesitate once, scribbling a name on a piece of paper that was handed to her, standing up to give it to Carol who then put a bandana over her eyes and walked her to the closet. Steve watched her disappear inside, almost immediately Carol put a hand over her mouth when she shut the door. “Where’s Rosie?”

It had happened all so fast. Tommy had gone upstairs, bringing back his pet beagle. Steve was confused, until Carol and the other girls let Rosie lick their hands. Tommy started towards the closet door. Steve jumped forward, blocking his way. “What are you doing?” 

“Giving her a kiss to remember.” He tried to step around him, but Steve stepped back in front of him. Tommy scowled, narrowing his eyes. “Always knew you were a pussy, Harrington.” 

Steve swallowed, feeling like he was drowning in thick molasses. “No, I was just volunteering.” He stuck out his arms. 

Tommy smirked, looking back at the others. 

Everything seemed to go slow, Rosie being put in his arms, the closet door creaking open, taking heavy steps inside. Even when they closed the door, his back hitting against it, darkness enveloping the room, Rosie whimpering, he was still able to see Y/n in the bright yellow dress. Like the sun. 

She tilted her head up, the black bandana covering her eyes. Steve walked closer to her, taking in the smell of mothballs, dust, and copper. When he crouched down, the closet scent faded away. Y/n’s sweet honeysuckle fragrance and mint toothpaste overtook it. 

He knew what Tommy and the others wanted him to do. But being this close to her, led him to put the dog down who immediately found a place in her lap. She giggled when Rosie licked her hand repeatedly. 

Steve reached out, putting his hand on her shoulder, letting the tulle of the puffy sleeve scratch against his fingers. 

“Are you gonna kiss me or what?” He almost wanted to laugh at how bored she sounded. 

He should tell her what was going on, that an hour had passed and it was time to go. When they got back to her house, they could laugh about how ridiculous seventh grade was. Maybe they should have never hung up their wooden swords and eye patches. He didn’t want to grow up and do the things that Tommy Hagan did. 

However, she licked her lips and he realized from the way his tummy flipped and breath hitched in his throat, he couldn’t stop from growing up.

He leaned forward, pressing his lips on hers, tender and saccharine. 

He pulled back, smiling, lifting the blindfold up, catching her eyes with his. 

“You’re not Tommy.” Y/n’s eyebrows creased.

Steve didn’t understand why she looked disappointed. 

He didn’t have time to ask because the door swung open. The two quickly shot up, eyes wide like kids who had their hands in the cookie jar. Rosie barked, running out of the closet. “Wait a minute… did you two kiss?” Carol snickered. 

Steve saw the piece of paper in the blonde’s hand, suddenly remembering that Y/n was asked to write down who she wanted to kiss, making out the cursive ‘T’ in her neat handwriting. 

She wanted to kiss Tommy. Not him. 

He clenched his jaw, balling up his fist as they laughed at them, ignoring the look on her face, silently asking if he was going to say something. “Me? Kiss her?” He scoffed. 

He noticed the way Y/n’s mouth fell open, shocked he had said that. 

“Rosie took one sniff of Y/n’s dog breath and cried. I wasn’t gonna take a chance.” He instantly regretted the words leaving his mouth when he saw his friend clench her jaw, eyes glossy as she fought the tears forming. 

Someone made a comment about being able to smell her breath from across the room, and soon the others chided in, all laughing at the made up lie that Steve couldn’t take back. 

Y/n had stormed past him, exiting the closet. The others started making barking noises as she ran up the stairs, bending over in laughter when they heard the front door slam shut. 

Later that night, Steve had to retrieve his bike back from Y/n’s, having left it there so they could walk to the party together. He had worked on his apology on the walk back from Tommy’s, even picking zinnias out of The Wheeler’s garden for her. But when he walked over to her window he felt his mouth go dry. 

Her light was on, but the window was sealed shut and the bubblegum pink curtains were closed. 

The next week, Y/n didn’t come to school. 

Steve tried to go over to her house and apologize, and every day her window was shut. He even knocked on the front door, her mom telling him Y/n wasn’t feeling good or wasn’t home. Which he knew was a lie, because one day he saw her peeking through the blinds in the living room. 

When she did come to school, kids barked at her in the hallway until the principal sat everyone in the gymnasium to speak about bullying and if any of the teachers caught them making dog noises at any student, they would be suspended for a week. The principal tried to keep Y/n’s name out of it, but everyone was looking at her, knowing. 

Two days later was when Y/n finally acknowledged him. 

He was alone at his locker, cramming answers for a quiz he was about to take for math. His locker slammed shut. He jumped up, locking eyes with her. She looked like she had just been crying, eyes red and puffy, shoving a box against his chest. “Tell your friends they’re so funny.” Steve looked down to see the contents. There was a toothbrush, cheap toothpaste, and a dog bone tied in a red bow. 

He gulped, not sure what to say to her, the rehearsed apology slipping from his mind. When he noticed Carter lingering by, pretending to tie his shoes, Steve felt himself speaking before thinking. “Maybe next time we should get you a shock collar.”

He took note how her face fell, the little bit of glitter in her eyes flickered out. Whatever little bit of hope she had left for him to fix everything, vanished. As she walked away, head hanging low, Steve realized this wasn’t like the time she pushed him in the mud. He wouldn’t be able to show up to her door with a wooden sword and she would forgive him. 

That night he rode his bike down her street three times before he finally walked to the side of her house. 

The window was still shut. 

As the seasons changed, Steve would check every day if it would be open. But it never was. 

Finally, there came the day when he stopped checking.

–

Hawkins High felt intimidating when Steve’s mom pulled to the front, tears in her eyes because her baby boy was growing up on her. He kept begging her to calm down. If his friends saw her reacting like that, they would give him shit. He allowed her to give a kiss on his cheek, before hurriedly grabbing his blue book bag and climbing out of the car. He saw Tommy and Carter hanging over by the railing, scanning the crowd of high schoolers, greeting them both with fist bumps. 

“Who knew high school was full of babes?” Carter nodded at a redhead walking into the school. “Is that Becky? Jesus, look at the rack on her.” Tommy laughed, closing the boy’s mouth, making a comment about him drooling. 

Steve observed the lawn, taking in the sounds of kids chattering amongst themselves, basking in the sun, trying to get the last few moments of summer into their systems. He then stopped, staring at a girl whose back was facing them, wearing a pair of Levi’s. “Shit.” He said out loud. 

“Looks like Harrington has scouted his first victim. Damn, what a sweet ass.” Tommy exclaimed. 

“Don’t let Carol hear you say that.” Carter chuckled. 

“What? You don’t think I know she’s looking at other dudes? This is why we work out, because we respect and trust one another.” Tommy explained. It was true, they always made comments about other people in front of each other, but neither of them got jealous. In fact, Steve swore they got hornier, knowing that there was nothing to worry about. “Why don’t you go over there, lover boy?” 

Steve turned to face them again, running a hand through his hair. “I dunno. What if she’s ugly? Like her face covered in warts or something.” 

“Just go, and if she’s ugly, tell her Carter wants to take her out on a date.” Tommy slapped his hand on Steve’s back, pushing him to walk over there.

“Wait, why me?” Carter asked. 

“‘Cause even the ugliest girl wouldn’t want to go on a date with you.” 

Steve rolled his eyes, their arguing voices drifting away as he walked closer to the girl with the sweet ass. She was talking to another girl he didn’t recognize. He coughed, but neither of the girls heard him. He took a deep breath and tapped her on the shoulder. 

He felt the world freeze around him when she twisted her body to face him. His jaw fell, and her beaming smile turned sour. It was Y/n. 

Everything about her was different. Her face, her hair… her body. He swallowed, hard. He knew if he turned around, Tommy and Carter would be bent over in laughter. He was unsure what to say or do, except gawk at her. 

“Something I can do for you, Harrington?” She was the first to speak, and her voice had changed too. It was calm and soothing, but he could hear the tone of hostility. 

“I er… hi.” He wanted to hit himself in the head for sounding pathetic. 

“Really? You haven’t talked to me in over a year and you start with, ‘Hi?’”  She raised an eyebrow, eyes burning into his skin, waiting for him to answer. Instead, he stood there stupidly. “Oh, am I not standing in the right area? Sorry, I couldn’t find the dog park.” She turned to her friend, telling her they were leaving. She turned her head, “Nice outfit, Harrington. Did your mommy pick it out?” 

He watched her walk away and he could see Tommy and Carter covering their mouths so they wouldn’t burst into laughter. Steve walked back over to them, hitting Tommy’s stomach. “Shut up.” 

If Steve hadn’t gotten the picture he and Y/n were no longer friends, he had gotten it now. 

–

If there was one thing Steve loved most about his home was the swimming pool in the backyard. The house itself was way too big for the family of three, and recently, it’s just been him around. He hated to admit the loneliness creeping around the corners of the rooms, following him around. 

Whenever he was bored, but still wanted to be alone, he walked outside and got in the pool. Today, however, he had invited Tommy and Carol over. They, of course, took the liberty of inviting TIna. Steve didn’t mind, more nervous than anything. Last year she had gotten prettier, no longer wearing pigtails or clothes that didn’t fit. 

He also enjoyed kissing her. 

Steve had kissed a lot of girls since the eighth grade. Now it was the summer before sophomore year, and a week before his sixteenth birthday. Him and Tina had been on a few dates, always ending up making out, tongues, salvia, heavy breathing and touching each other in places they shouldn’t. 

The blonde was sitting between his legs, laying her head on his chest, placing soft kisses on his jaw. Tommy and Carol were on the lawn chair next to theirs. Tommy was rubbing Carol’s shoulders, a cigarette hanging out of his mouth, listening to Carol ramble on about her uptight step-mom. “Did you find someone to get us some beers?” She asked Steve, rolling her eyes when he wasn’t answering, his lips locked on Tina’s. 

She hit him with a towel, forcing him to break away from Tina, lips red and wet, giving Carol an annoyed expression. She repeated her question. “Yeah, they’re in the kitchen.” He tried to go back to kissing Tina, but Carol asked her to come with her, making the girl slip off the chair and follow the brunette back into the cool house. He watched the way her hips swayed side to side in her blue bikini bottom. 

“Jesus dude. When are you gonna man up and fuck her?” Tommy asked once the girls walked inside. 

Steve licked his lips, staring at a water bug as it skidded across the surface of the clear pool water. “We’re not even anything serious, yet.” That was always his excuse. Like the girl before Tina and the girl before her, they were never official enough to sleep with. Tommy and Carol always gave him shit for it, having done it since the beginning of freshman year. 

The growing popularity in high school was overwhelming, girls coming up to him and saying their friend thought he was cute, landing a varsity spot his freshman year, being invited to upperclassman parties. A lot had changed for him.

His hair was thicker, his teeth were no longer big, his legs were longer, his shoulders broader and arms stronger. Last Christmas his grandmother made a sweater that ended up ripping because she didn’t realize how big he was. 

He hated to admit that although the attention was staggering, he enjoyed it. In fact, he no longer blushed when girls would express their interest in him like he did in PE. Instead he would smirk, flirt, and occasionally, if he thought the girl was cute, he would give his number to them. 

Tommy scoffed, “It’s just sex. It doesn’t have to be serious.” 

Steve wanted to tell Tommy that it wasn’t just sex. 

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to do it. Oh god, no not at all. There was an embarrassing amount of wet dreams, or uncomfortable hard-ons in class that proved otherwise. But it was nerve wracking to think about being so young and stripping down to show the most vulnerable parts of yourself to somebody. 

Then there were the expectations. What if it wasn’t good? What if he wasn’t good? 

Steve was about to give Tommy an answer until the large gate to the pool opened. The boys turned their heads. 

Y/n was pushing it open with her back, then closing it with her foot. When she turned around, she stopped in her tracks realizing they were staring at her, holding a rectangular glass platter covered with tin foil. “Um, your mom called my mom and mentioned you were by yourself. She was worried about you being fed. No one answered the door and I… well I don’t know why I came back here.” 

Steve knew exactly why, especially when her eyes flickered to the second flower pot by the back door, the flower pot that always had the spare key underneath. 

Steve sighed, pushing himself up off the pool chair to help the girl into the house. When he opened the door to the sun room, Tina and Carol were coming out holding beers, giving each other a look when they noticed Y/n was behind Steve. 

He motioned for her to go in, closing the door quickly when he heard Carol say, “Since when did Steve get a dog?” 

It was silent between them as she walked in front of him to the kitchen. Although they didn’t speak, or hung out, their families still had dinner every now and then. His mother may redecorate when she’s bored but it was nearly impossible for Y/n to forget how to get around the Harrington household. 

She set the dish on the kitchen island, running the back of her hand over her forehead, wiping off the beaded sweat from the blazing summer sun. “Mom is trying out a new recipe. M’sorry if it’s not any good.” 

“It’s okay. Tell her I said thank you.” Steve shifted uncomfortably, his bare feet stinging the cold linoleum. Y/n’s eyes were anywhere but on him, trying to ignore the fact he was shirtless and wearing only his swim trunks. “How’s Aaron doing?” 

She shrugged. “Has his good and bad days. Yesterday he couldn’t stop throwing up.”

“Cancer sounds like an asshole.” He joked, earning a small smile from her. 

The two of them were still far from being friends, but the second semester of freshman year they were partnered together for biology and now Y/n would actually have a conversation with him without scowling. 

“How are you doing? With everything going on, I mean.” He asked her. 

Something flashed across her face that told him she hadn't been asked that. “Alright, I guess.” 

“You wanna stay? We have beers. Tommy and Carol aren’t that bad anymore. Tina’s cool too.” He could tell by the way she bit her lip and nostrils flared, she wasn’t going to stay. 

“Preheat the oven at 350º and reheat it for ten minutes.” She left the room, making her way to the front door so she could avoid walking in the back again. 

He joined the group outside again, Tommy and Carol wading in the pool, Tina laying on her stomach soaking up the sun. If this was seventh or even eighth grade, they would have interrogated him about Y/n showing up unannounced. But they never brought it up, at least not in the way they used to. 

“How is it possible for someone’s ass to get even sweeter?” Tommy gave a cheeky grin when Carol splashed him. 

Steve sat on the edge of the chair Tina was on, rubbing her back, slick of tanning oil. 

“Why don’t you ask Reed? Tammy told me the other day they did it in the back of his dad’s car. Chief Hopper was the one who caught them.” Tina said.

Steve furrowed his brows.

It was no secret some of the boys at school started to find interest in Y/n, the rumor of her having dog breath had been set aflame when she allegedly sucked face with Connie Phillips at a party the beginning of freshman year. 

“Can’t believe she lost her virginity before you, Harrington.” Carol sniggered. 

He felt the heat on his cheeks rise. 

It was odd to talk about her in such a way. He knew they were older, grown out of their awkward bodies. He knew they weren’t friends anymore. He knew he shouldn’t care what she’s doing or who she’s hanging out with.

So why did he feel his chest tighten?

–

Steve had never lost someone before. Any funeral he had gone to was as a visitor. Sometimes he would get asked how he knew the family, he’d look up at his mom, because he had no idea. 

He didn’t know the pain of having a loved one ripped away suddenly from your life, having to adjust and adapt to a life without them. 

He guessed that’s why it was hard to understand Nancy. He loved her, but in reality, he didn’t understand the things she had gone through.

He realized that when he looked her in the eyes at the Halloween party, and he finally saw her for the first time in their entire relationship. She didn’t love him— she couldn’t. She resented him. 

He sat outside on the sidewalk of Tina’s house, cigarette in his hand, recalling his entire time with the eldest Wheeler. Anytime they were intimate, it was like she disappeared inside of herself, and it wasn’t until now that Steve realized it only reminded her of Barb. How they creeped up the steps of his house to his room, giggling and carefree while Barb was killed. 

How the hell was he supposed to know Barb would be dragged to another world by a monster? 

Shit, he thought to himself, taking another drag of his cigarette. 

Not only was the first long-term relationship he had ever been in was over, but school wasn’t any better. Tommy and him stopped being friends last year. The new kid, Billy Hargrove, was now Hawkin’s High golden boy. He wasn’t anything special anymore. 

He felt like the failure his father always said he’d be. 

“I should have known you’d dress as Risky Business.”

Steve snapped his head towards the mysterious voice. He felt his stomach dip. Y/n was standing behind him, a beer in her hand, and a smirk on her face, wearing a Wonder Woman costume. He watched her walk over, plopping right next to him on the sidewalk. 

“Your girl was fucked up.” It was a statement. He wondered if she knew about the argument in the bathroom. He wondered if it was her way of comforting him, telling him Nancy was drunk and they would be fine tomorrow. 

But Steve knew there was no going back to the way things were before. 

“It’s whatever.” He mumbled, resting his arms on his knees, flicking the butt of his cigarette he wasn’t hungry for anymore. 

Her costume was shiny, gleaming underneath the streetlight softly glowing above them. “Still sucks. I could tell you were really into her. You somewhat stopped being a dickbag.” 

A corner of Steve’s mouth turned upwards. He had wondered how she really felt about him. 

She had to grow up, watching him go from the boy who played pirates, the boy who still slept with a baby blanket until he was eleven, the boy who attended tea parties willingly, the boy who was disgusted by the idea of kissing girls. She had to grow up, watching him become something the opposite of everything he once was. Cruel, self-obsessed, and seemingly heartless. 

Although he was different, nothing could change what he had done to her what seemed forever ago in that damp basement closet. That’s the Steve Harrington she knew. 

But he didn’t know anything about her. Was her favorite color still lilac? Did she leave the window cracked open for the boys she’s been with? 

“Do you think you could take me home? This party is kind of lame.” She asked, taking one last sip of her drink, tossing the can into the yard. 

It made Steve chuckle, past Y/n would have been angry if she caught someone littering. 

The car ride was mostly silent, besides the soft crackling of the radio. One point, Y/n reached over and grabbed the Ray Bans hanging off his shirt, putting them on, resting her head on the window. 

“You going to college?” She asked him. 

Steve felt his body tense, thinking back on the evenings his dad forced him to send applications to every possible school in the United States. If it weren’t for his mom, Steve would have probably been shipped off to military school by now. “Hoping to. You?” 

“Just got my acceptance letter from UCLA.” He was envious of the proud tone of voice she had; nevertheless, he was happy for her. 

He pulled into the familiar driveway, but she didn’t rush out of the car once he put it in park. There were a few trick-or-treaters walking through the lawn from getting enough tooth rotting candy that would make a dentist cry. “I miss trick-or-treating.” She sighed. 

Steve agreed. 

There was a beat.

“Wanna come up?” 

His jaw slacked, chestnut eyes drooped, brows creased. Did he hear her correctly? She didn’t say anything else, getting out of the car, sauntering inside her house. He could see her greet her mom in a hug through the frosted glass on the door. He waited until he saw her bedroom light turn on when he turned off the engine of his BMW, getting out. She still had his sunglasses, that was the only reason he would go in. At least, that’s what he told himself as he crossed the yard to the side of the house. 

He turned the corner, stopping when he was greeted by her brother, Aaron, leaning against the wall, a cigarette between his fingers. 

He looked Steve up and down. “Harrington.” He was skinny, face sunken in. Usually he wore a cap to cover the lack of hair on his head, but tonight he wore a pirate hat, almost making Steve laugh. 

“Should you be smoking?” Steve asked him. 

Aaron looked up above him, smiling knowingly. “Should you be sneaking through my sister’s window? Neighbors might get the wrong idea.” 

Steve wanted to answer, but Y/n voice interrupted him. “Aaron, if you don’t piss off I’ll tell mom you’re smoking again.” 

“I’ll tell mom you’re sneaking boys in again.” He challenged. 

“You’re the one dying, she doesn’t care what I do.” 

Aaron gave her an unimpressed look, smashing the cigarette into the wall, flicking it to the ground, mumbling insults. He set a hand on Steve’s shoulder. “Careful, I hear she bites.” 

Steve swallowed. He had always been embarrassed when he thought that Y/n probably told her family what he did to her. He always assumed when her mom stopped inviting him to go to Indiana Adventures– an amusement park outside of Indianapolis– or when her father gave him a narrowed eye look if he walked into the room. But now, Aaron confirmed it. 

Steve looked up at the window, wide open. Just for him. He climbed up the lattice panel, remembering where to avoid because the wood was weak. Although now, he had to be careful because vines had grown back, that would be morifying if his foot got stuck. 

Fortunately, he successfully slipped inside the room with a smooth landing. 

Y/n’s room was different from the last time he had been in there. The walls were still white, small holes from nails and chipped paint. There were now posters from her favorite bands and the Karate Kid. There were a few trophies and medals from academic meets and debate club. Pictures decorated her bookshelf. He smiled at the one of her frowning the summer her mom forced her to join gymnastics. 

Y/n, now changed into an oversized shirt and shorts, was rummaging through her dresser. Finally, she pulled out a jewelry box, opening it up and taking out a blunt. Without a word, she walked over to the window seal, plopping down criss crossed. Steve just stared at her stupidly, watching her light the blunt and inhaling it, tilting her head when she noticed his uneasiness. “Have you never smoked before?” 

“I have.” He joined her, crossing his legs as well, giving a small thank you when she handed the blunt to him. 

The two sat there, listening to crickets chirping, the doorbell ringing, kids yelling excitedly down the street. It smelled like banana bread and pine. 

“I’m sorry.” Steve blurted out. He felt like he was a balloon airing up for years, the needle finally closed in on him, forcing him to burst. 

She made a face, knowing what he meant. “I get it. I probably would have done the same to you. Remember me at the beginning of sixth grade?” 

“No you wouldn’t have.” Steve said sternly. “You would have never done that to me. Not to anyone. You realized quicker than I did that some people are full of bullshit.” 

By now the blunt had been passed between them so long that it was only a nub. She put it out in a glass bowl, setting it to the side. “Then why did you tell them that? What was so bad with them knowing you kissed me?” Her tone was soft and sad. He imagined her staying up late at night, wondering what was wrong with her all because her friend had rather made up an outrageous lie than admit he had kissed her. 

Steve ran his hands over his face. “No one was supposed to even kiss you. They were going to make the dog lick you, and I just couldn’t do it. But then when you looked disappointed that it was me and not Tommy… anyway, it’s stupid.”

Y/n didn’t look at him, instead her eyes were focused outside the window. “I didn’t want to kiss Tommy. I mean, not really.” 

“Not really?”  

“I wanted to kiss you.” 

There was a beat. 

“Oh.” He felt like he was back in that closet, heart thumping and mind racing. So long he had questioned what was wrong with him that made her not want to kiss him. His eyes fell on hers and his mouth parted. He couldn’t help that they wandered over to her lips. 

She noticed.

“You wanna kiss me right now?” This time she was looking at him, eyebrows raised, part of her mouth upturned. 

Steve licked his lips, swallowing when she leaned forward, placing a hand on his thigh. Her face was close enough he could lean down and close the gap between them. It was an easy task. However, he sighed and looked down at the floor. She took the message, leaning back and taking her hand off of him. “If this was a year ago. I would with no hesitation. But I can’t. Not like this. I love Nancy and I…  just can’t.” It was hard for him to explain that even though she was pretty, things were different than before. He was different. 

He realized tonight, he never needed a wooden sword to apologize to her. It seemed like she had forgiven him a long time ago. 

But maybe he needed to apologize to his younger self too. Putting so much pressure on the young boy with too big teeth to grow up faster than he really wanted. It was uncomfortable, outgrowing his old self, becoming the version of himself that he always envisioned. 

Maybe that’s another reason he didn’t kiss her. 

He’s rushed so many things before he could properly think about the consequences or after math. 

He needed to learn how to be a friend to her again. 

–

Since junior year, Steve had always dreamed about being crowned prom king. That would be the moment he knew he made a mark in high school. 

Yet, when they announced his name and set the plastic crown they probably got at the party store on his head, slightly messing up his styled hair, he didn’t feel satisfied. He looked out onto the dimly lit gymnasium streamed with cheap decorations, sweaty bodies, and the spiked punch with cheap tequila. 

His date, Betty Simpson, had ditched him the first ten minutes they had arrived, somewhere in the crowd with her friends, only finding him whenever a slow song came on. 

There was only thirty minutes left of the dance, people already treading out to get ready for the after party at Tammy’s house. He stood to the side, watching everyone jump or sway to the music. Some people came up and patted him on the back to congratulate him, something he did to the prom king before him. 

“There you are.” A pair of hands wrapped around his arms. “I think I’m going to catch a ride with Billy to Tammy’s. Is that okay?” Betty asked. He could smell the hint of alcohol from her breath. His eyes flickered over to the exit of the gym, a couple of girls were standing by the long haired boy, whispering to one another as they watched him. Billy had a smug look on his face, waving tauntingly. 

“Yeah, whatever.” Steve shrugged the girl off his arm, thinking about how he wasted his entire night bringing her. He bet Billy wouldn’t have taken her to Enzo’s or would have even bought dessert like Steve did. 

Betty didn’t notice the irritated expression on his face, happily telling him goodbye, picking up her dress and running towards her friends. 

Steve walked over and sat down on a chair, dropping his head and taking the crown off. Cyndi Lauper’s Time After Time came on, he glanced at the couples dragging their dates to dance, sighing. “The prom king shouldn’t be moping around.” The familiar voice of Y/n made him look over, straightening in his seat. He had seen her earlier, it wasn’t that hard to point her out in the yellow dress she wore, outshining everyone in the room. Sometimes he’d tune out Betty talking his ear off, and just stare at her. Admiring how pretty she was. 

He wouldn’t say things had gone back to the way they were between them, but they’ve made progress the past seven months, hanging out, having movie nights again, talking at dinners with their families. 

“You know, you made a pinky promise to dance with me at prom.” She didn’t wait for an answer, grabbing his hand, pulling him up, dragging him towards the group of people. Y/n took the crown and placed it back on his head, smiling, settling his hands on her waist before placing hers on his shoulders. “Why do you look so sad?” 

Steve motioned his head over to a couple. Y/n looked, “Ah.” It was Nancy and Jonathan, looking ever so in love. Although he had given up pining over her and letting her go from his thoughts, he still sometimes felt that pang of hurt whenever he saw moments like that. “Well, she can’t say she danced with the prom king, can she?” 

Steve managed to smile. “Is that why you wanted to dance with me?” 

She laughed, rolling her eyes. “Yes, you caught me. Wanted to tell my kids someday that I danced with the prom king in high school.” The sarcasm was thick, but it still made him chuckle. Her face softened. “Also, like I said. You promised me.” 

“Do you remember every pinky promise we made?” He noticed that his hands had relaxed, mindlessly thumbing the fabric of her dress. He may have even slightly pulled her in closer. 

“Only the important ones.” She shrugged, clasping her hands around his neck. “A lot of the broken ones.” She mumbled, looking at their feet. 

“Can I make a new promise to you?” Steve asked her, bringing her chin up so she would look at him again. “My promise to you is if I ever lose you again, I will do anything to make sure to find you.” To her, the promise was at surface level than what he meant. Steve had gone through a lot the past couple of years, and although she knew about it, saw it first hand herself, she had no clue how terrified he was that he’d never get a chance to say how much he missed her all these years apart. How much he missed the silly pinky promises. How much he missed hearing her laugh. How much he missed crawling through her window and opening a cold Dr. Pepper that she set on her desk for him. 

He held up his pinky in front of her, smirking. 

She shook her head, her smile betraying her. She wrapped her pinky around his, neither of them forgetting to kiss their thumbs to secure the promise. Normally, they would drop their hands and go on about their business. However, their eyes stayed locked on one another, pinkies still clasped together, lips parted, a tingling sensation moved from his pinky through his hand up his arm to his chest, his heart beating fast. “Wanna get out of here?”

The clatter of bowling pins and cigarette smoke greeted Steve and Y/n when they walked into the bowling alley, still dressed in their prom attire. They replaced their dress shoes and high heels for uncomfortable smelly used bowling shoes. A large cherry slush was shared between them, slurping, sticking their tongues out occasionally like they did as kids, comparing whose tongue was redder. 

“How is it possible to get worse at bowling since middle school?” Y/n laughed, climbing triumphantly into his car after undeniably beating him. “Don’t say ‘cause the suit. I wore this dress and still kicked your ass.” 

Steve threw his white suit jacket in the back seat of his BMW, visibly pouting at the loss. “Whatever, next time I’ll prove to you that it is the suit.” He pointed his finger at her before pulling out of the parking lot.

“Oh, next time?” She tilted her head, giving him a ‘yeah right’ look. 

He nodded ferociously. “Yep. How about next Friday?” His brown eyes flickered towards her. 

She rested her elbow on the center console, setting her head in her hand. “Did you just ask me on a date, Harrington?” She moved the crown on his head from leaning over. 

“No.” He said, maybe a little too quickly. His brows creased, recollecting what he had just said, trying to figure out what words specifically made it sound like he was asking her on a date.  “Henderson will be there and probably the other dorks.” 

She leaned back in her seat, crossing her arms. “Really shouldn’t call them dorks.”

“I find it offensive you would think me, Steve Harrington, would take a girl bowling on the first date.” He looked at her with a lopsided grin. 

“I don’t think you take girls bowling on the first date,” She replied. “I think you take them to your bedroom.”  

Steve rolled his eyes. “Okay, Big Bird. That hurt a little.”

He saw the way she looked down, fidgeting her fingers, a bashful look on her face. “Shut up.” 

“What? I think you make a cute Big Bird.” He poked her cheek. 

She opened her mouth to say something. However, loud sirens and lights rolled into earshot and eyesight, quickly passing Steve’s car. Y/n grabbed his hand, panicked breathing coming out of her as the emergency cars were still moving in the direction she prayed they wouldn’t. It felt like slow motion, stopping in the street in front of her house because the driveway was crowded with vehicles, blinding lights flashed as they ran inside. 

Steve watched as Y/n’s mother engulfed her daughter in a hug, rubbing her back, telling her how much she loved her.

They waited twenty minutes in the living room for the paramedics to come downstairs, assuring the family everything was okay. 

Y/n had been sitting on the couch with Steve, holding his hand the entire time. It was because she was scared, he told himself. 

She asked him to come up with her to see Aaron. Knowing she didn’t want to be alone, he agreed. 

Aaron’s room had changed too since they were kids. It still looked like a teenager’s bedroom, decorated in posters and pictures, but in the corner there was a hospital bed with beeping monitors. He remembered the day Y/n was upset that he had to be put on bed rest, because he no longer wanted to do treatments. Although she claimed she came to terms with her brother’s numbered days, Steve could tell by the way she picked her fingernails, or jumped whenever she was called to the office, she really hadn’t. 

Aaron weakly smiled when they entered. “Look, I’m E.T. now.” He held his finger up that was covered with a heartbeat monitor, moving it creepily towards his sister. “E.T. phone home.” His horrible impression made the three of them laugh. Y/n sat at edge, grabbing his hand. “Harrington, you’re prom king.” 

Steve touched the cheap crown on his head that he had forgotten about. No wonder they were giving him odd looks downstairs. “Yeah.” 

“Y/n was pissed you didn’t ask her to prom. Ow!” Aaron took his hand away, rubbing it after she had squeezed him ‘accidentally’ too hard. 

Steve crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, giving her a smug look. “Was she?” 

“Oh yeah. Now that I’m quite literally on my deathbed. I have so many secrets about Y/n I can share. Once I found her diary. Every page was always Steve this and Steve that. ‘Dear diary, I cannot stop thinking about that kiss-” Y/n’s hand found its way over his mouth. 

“If you don’t shut up now, I’m going to start unplugging shit.” She took her hand off of him, placing it back in her lap, avoiding the look that Steve was giving her. 

There was a moment of silence. 

“Always wanted to be prom king. The ladies were obsessed with me in middle school.” 

Aaron grinned, fidgeting with a loose thread on the bed sheet. “Because they thought you were dying.”

“I am.” 

Steve had always wondered what it would have been like to have a sibling. He once asked his mom why they never had any other kids. His father had interjected the conversation. “If we weren’t so worried about how you turn out, maybe we'd have time to have another kid.” He guessed that’s why he had taken such a liking to Henderson. A kid he once never thought twice about and now if someone even looked at him funny, he’d kick their ass. 

Steve looked down, a smile flickered at the corner of his mouth, bending down to pick up the familiar wooden object. Memories of laughing, falling in the mud, swinging too high on the tire swing, flooded his mind. He looked over at two of them, still bantering. “Hey, how about some fresh air?” 

The spring air was cool, a light fog casted down the street of Dearborn, the lawn was damp and muggy from the rain yesterday, Y/n’s mom’s lilies had just bloomed. Steve held the wooden sword firmly in his hands. Aaron sat in a wheelchair, covered in a blanket and a knitted toboggan on his head. He was opposite of Steve, holding Y/n’s sword, while she held the handles of the wheelchair to push him since he was too weak to do it himself. 

It took their mom a lot of convincing to allow Aaron to come outside, but even she couldn’t stop smiling ear to ear when Steve carried the boy down the stairs and outside. He even caught a nod of approval from her dad.  

“Aye, we meet again to fight one last time for the jeweled crown. If yer want it, you have to kill me first.” Steve spun the crown on his pointer finger. 

“Pirate Steve-”

“It’s now Pirate ‘the Hair’ Harrington, matey.” 

Y/n snorted, but didn’t say anything. 

“Pirate ‘the Hair’ Harrington. That crown will be mine!” He motioned for Y/n to start pushing, holding the sword out, charging towards the dark locked boy. 

It was like a messy dance as Steve ran in circles while Y/n and Aaron chased him. Occasionally the wooden swords would clatter against one another, Steve careful not to hit too hard. His shoes and the bottom of his trousers had mud and dirt splattered on the slick black. He would get an earful when he got home, but he didn’t care. 

Finally, Steve put himself in the position for Aaron to hit his waist, signaling he had been defeated. Y/n had been giggling the entire time, and it only got louder as Steve dramatically coughed. He took the crown off his head, placing it on Aaron’s over the toboggan. “You won it fair and square.” 

Aaron’s expression changed, quickly shaking his head. “Steve, I’m not taking your crown.” 

Steve smiled tenderly, “You didn’t take it. I’m giving it to you.” His eyes flickered to Y/n. Her head was tilted slightly and a toothy grin was painted on her face. 

He couldn’t help it, his feet started going towards her. When she saw the mischievous look in his eyes, she held a hand up, grabbing the bottom of her yellow dress, running away from him. She squealed when he easily caught up with her, grabbing her waist, her feet twisting underneath forcing her to the ground, pulling him down with her. He could feel her belly rumble against his own, laughing, smile beaming in the soft glow of moonlight. She had a spec of mud on her face, Steve brushed it off with his knuckles, chuckling because he had made it worse. 

“Did you mean it when you said I was cute?” She asked him in a low whisper so that Aaron couldn’t hear. 

He felt his own voice go down. “Of course I did.” 

She hummed, brushing her fingers through his hair. “Promise?” 

A breath of air hitched in his throat. His jaw slacked and eyes widened. She gave him an innocent smile, eyelashes fluttering when she blinked. 

Their noses bumped when he leaned down, connecting their lips. His stomach felt like it was doing flips as he drowned himself in her. He could taste the cherry slush that still lingered on her lips. He could feel the longing desire as her fingers touched the nape of his neck, pulling him deeper. 

This was his promise. 

“Guys? It’s awfully quiet back there. Did you kill one another?” Aaron asked, trying to look behind him. 

The two broke apart, sharing a giggle and a secret that only the two of them would know. 

–

Steve had never had a girl cry in front of him. He could always tell if they were about to or if they were sad, but never did they cry. He had always thought maybe they were too embarrassed, not wanting him to see their red puffy eyes or snot running nose. He had shrugged it off until he dated Nancy. 

He realized that none of them were flustered. They never trusted him enough to see that side of them. None of them felt safe enough. 

So when he laid in Y/n’s bed, holding her shaking body, her tears staining his polo, he was unsure what to do. 

It had been a week since her brother’s funeral.  Since then, he had seen a few tears fall when she thought no one was looking, but would always wipe them off and smile if he said something. 

It wasn’t until he had snuck in her window— her parents now disapproved of this since they assumed more might be happening between them, rightfully so. 

They were laying in her bed, his hand on her stomach, she was playing with his fingers. Until all of a sudden, she burst into tears. 

At first, he thought he might have said or done something wrong. All he knew what to do was pull her even closer, allowing her face into his chest, assuring her it was okay whenever she cried out an apology. There was no reason to apologize, he told her. She was allowed to be sad. She was allowed to cry. He would be there for her, always, even if he didn’t completely understand how she felt, even if she didn’t want him to be. 

The room fell silent besides her quiet sniffling. 

She turned over, making Steve believe she was ready to be alone. He slipped out of the bed, walking over to the window to put on his shoes. Y/n turned her body, watching him with creased brows. “Where are you going?” 

Steve looked up. “Thought maybe you wanted to be alone.” 

She shook her head, biting her lip. “Please stay.” 

Steve took his shoes back off, closed the window, and crawled back on the bed next to her, flushing his chest to her back and holding her tightly, never wanting to let go. 

—

Y/n had always hated peaches. Even the smell of them made her gag. Whenever the school served them and a tiny drop of peach juice touched her food, she wouldn’t eat it. Finally, her mom started packing her daughter’s lunches to prevent any further peach contamination.

So when the boy came up to the counter at Scoops Ahoy, smirking, asking about the pretty girl in the booth reading a book and what Steve thought her favorite ice cream flavor was. Steve couldn’t help but smile wide once he handed the guy a double scoop of Peaches and Cream flavored ice cream.

When the ice cream was offered to her, she smiled and gave a thank you. 

After he left, Y/n narrowed her eyes on Steve. She stood up and walked up to the counter. “Why did you do that?” 

Steve acted clueless. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

She scoffed, holding the ice cream cone that was already melting and running down her fingers. “There’s other ways to make it known you’re jealous than making me come in contact with my mortal enemy.” 

His face pinched up. “I’m not jealous.” 

“Oh, so you won’t care if I call him?” She showed a piece of paper that Steve didn’t see earlier when he was watching them. 

Steve’s jaw ticked. “Let’s not go that far. I mean, did you see that unibrow?” He pointed to the space between his brows, grimacing. He then leaned on the counter with his elbows.

“Well, at least he’s man enough to ask me out on a date.” Her voice had raised, earning looks from some of the customers sitting down. 

Robin, his co-worker who had made a silent oath to make any second working with him miserable, pretended to come outside and check the toppings. 

This was ridiculous, he thought. He didn’t realize it was a big deal to play a harmless prank. Besides, Y/n was way out of his league. No, he was not jealous because there was nothing to be jealous of. If she was implying that he hadn’t asked her out because he was a wimp, she was wrong. Completely wrong. 

What was the point of starting something with her if in a couple of months she’d be across the country in California? He’s seen the posters of those surfers in her bedroom. That’s all he could imagine, her pathetically splashing around in a yellow bikini and a tanned, long hair blond saving her, complimenting how beautiful she looked and that yellow was definitely her color. He would stare at all her supple curves and her boobs and her sweet ass— Jesus what was he even thinking? 

She was his friend. 

A friend he’s kissed. 

A friend that he had only gotten back recently, and he was too selfish to let her go. 

Y/n wasn’t pleased with his lack of words. She pursed her lips, took the ice cream cone, smeared it on his dark mop of hair, and then pivoted on her heels to storm out of the ice cream shop. 

Steve poked his tongue against the inside of his cheek, nodding to himself. He probably deserved it. 

He turned to look at Robin, seeing her smile for the first time since he started working there. “Dude, you kind of suck.” 

He muttered something about her getting off at his misery as he scooped the broken cone and melted ice cream off his head, trying not to think about how it screwed up his hair routine for the week. 

“So, why isn’t she your girlfriend? She comes and sits in here nearly every day.” Robin never took interest in his personal affairs, so why now? 

“Not that it’s any of your business, Buckley, but it’s complicated.” He used a rag to clean the counter off. 

She hummed, going back into the breakroom, leaving Steve alone with his thoughts and a group of familiar looking teenagers. 

Steve couldn’t sleep that night, tossing and turning, uncomfortable because his hair was still damp from the shower he took. “Screw it.” 

When he got to Y/n’s house, he didn’t even care that her bedroom lights were off and the window was closed. He still climbed the lattice panel, knocking loudly on the glass. He was relieved when he saw a dim glow appear through the curtains which snapped open. Y/n’s face had no expression whatsoever, her eyes were half-closed and pajamas were rustled against her body. Nevertheless, she unlocked the window and opened it. “It’s two in the morning.” 

She still let him crawl through, shutting it when he stepped further into the room. “I couldn’t sleep.” 

“So you came over to wake me up instead? Did the ice cream freeze your brain cells?” She poked his forehead, giggling a little at her joke. 

“No. I came over to talk to you.” His serious tone made her wake up completely. He took a deep breath, already overwhelmed. “You’re my best friend, Y/n.” 

“Sure it isn’t Dustin?” She joked, sitting down at the edge of her bed. 

Steve rubbed his hand over his face. Why was she being so difficult? “Can you just let me talk?” 

Her jaw slacked, surprised at the mini outburst. “Losing you as my best friend was one of the worst things that happened to me. I became a douchebag and didn’t care about anything or anyone. Now, I’m scared that you’re going to leave for California and you’ll realize I’m just a nobody still stuck in this shit hole because I realized too late high school doesn’t matter.” 

Y/n eyes softened. “This is all about me going to UCLA?” She asked, disbelief laced in her words. He only shrugged, avoiding her sympathetic look. “Steve.” 

He still wouldn’t look at her. She sighed and stood up to walk over to him. “Steve.” She said again, softly, placing her hand tenderly on his face. His hooded eyes found hers, warm and sweet. “I made the decision to go to Indiana State.” 

“What? Why?” 

“To be closer to my parents. I don’t want to be across the country worrying about them all the time.” She paused looking down bashfully then back up at him, thumbing the collar of his sleep shirt, batting her eyes. “I also wanted to be closer to the boy I like.” 

Steve felt his heart beat fast. “Indiana State is about an hour and a half drive from here.” 

She began to pepper kisses against his jaw. “I could come down on weekends or somebody could come see me.” 

Steve felt selfish that he was more than happy with her decision to stay in Indiana. He should be jumping up and down, celebrating, but something was gnawing on his mind, like a tiny ant he couldn’t get rid of. 

—

Never did Steve think he’d be in a bathroom, coming down from the biggest drugged high of his life, with his co-worker Robin. Granted, they had just escaped Russians who had beaten his face so badly his eye was nearly swollen shut, but never did he think he’d be sharing the most vulnerable parts to someone that he barely knew. 

Yet, there he sat, back against the cold tiles of the freshly cleaned restroom, the scent of cleaning chemicals burning his nostrils. 

“Are you in love with Y/n?” Robin’s raspy voice was soft, but the question felt like it had echoed against the stalls, ringing in his ears. 

His chest tightened and he swallowed hard. “I dunno. I’ve never thought about it.” 

“Why are boys such idiots?” Robin said, mostly to herself. “She’s your girlfriend, dude.”

“Yeah, and we’ve only been dating less than a month.” 

She let out a long exasperated sigh. “You’ve known her longer than a month.”

Steve looked at the multicolor tiles below him as his hand cradled the toilet which was defaced in his vomit and blood. Steve might have lied. He had thought about Y/n beyond just liking her. 

He slid under the bathroom stall. “I’m scared.” He admitted. “I’m scared that I’ll tell her and she’ll look at me the same way Nancy did. With that blank look because she never felt that way and never will.” 

“Y/n isn’t Nancy.” Steve had to agree with her. Maybe that’s why he dived so fast into the relationship with Nancy. She was the opposite of Y/n. She didn’t remind him every single day that he was lost without his best friend. 

“You just wouldn’t understand.” Steve ran his fingers through his hair, damp with sweat. 

She let out a breathy laugh. “You really don’t know a thing about me, Steve.” 

He glanced at her, noticing the way she was chewing on her lip and how she was slightly pulling her hair, staring at the toilet paper holder next to him. He was still astonished that this day had brought them closer. A girl he would have never hung out with in high school. Maybe because he was afraid Tommy would have made fun of him or maybe it would’ve hurt his chances to be prom king. 

He knew it was all bullshit. 

He was different now, and Robin must have seen it too, because she told him a secret that she had never told anyone, letting him know she did understand. He couldn’t tell her how his high school self would react to the news of her being a lesbian, but it didn’t matter because that person didn’t exist anymore. 

So, four weeks later, when Steve still had a fading bruise under his eye, and a healing cut under his lip that would surely leave a scar, he still couldn’t get that ant from gnawing his brain. 

Not even when his lips were meshed with Y/n’s. His back against her headboard as she straddled his lap, fingers tangled in his hair.

 It was a heated kiss, heavy breathing, tongues sliding against each other. Y/n took his lip between her teeth, forcing a guttural moan out of him, his hands slid down her back to her ass, gently squeezing, smiling when he felt the sliver of flesh peeking through her shorts. 

Y/n’s hands wandered from his hair to his neck and then down his chest, her fingers hooked his belt loops, pulling his waist up against her.

She tasted sweet like the vanilla cookies his mom used to make for him. She still smelled like honeysuckle along with a hint of his cologne. It was like he was walking in an apple orchard. He didn’t believe in a God, but Jesus, she felt like an angel. 

He scattered kisses along her neck, finding her sensitive spot that made her let out an angelic sound which drove him crazy. 

He felt her slowly mess with his belt, unbuckling it. However, when her thumb unbuttoned his jeans, Steve quickly pulled her hands away, leaning back, chest heaving. 

“Steve.” She whined. 

He cursed the ant ruining his life. All he wanted to do was explore every inch of her. This wasn’t the first time they’ve been close, and this wasn’t the first time Steve, regrettably, stopped anything from going further. She sighed, wiping the wetness on her lips, crawling off him and the bed. He closed his eyes tightly, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Y/n…”

“Don’t. It’s fine.” She started to mess with her stereo. 

“I’m sorry.” He continued, putting his belt back on and then throwing his feet over the edge of the bed. 

“Am I not attractive?” She asked him, spinning around, her nose flared. “Do you not find me desirable?” 

Steve shook his head. “Christ, Y/n. You have no idea how bad I want you.” He wasn’t going to say out loud he’s wanted her for a pathetically long time. 

“Then what’s wrong? I’m… dumbfounded that Steve Harrington is saying no to sex.” One hand was up in the air. Maybe she thought it would help her figure out what his deal was. 

There was a moment of silence except for the radio crackling. 

Steve had had enough of the ant. 

“You should go to California.”

Y/n’s expression changed, trying to process what he had just said. “Why would you say that?” 

“Because I’d be a fool if I didn’t.” He got up from the bed and walked over to her. 

She shook her head, pushing past him. “I already made up my mind. I’m staying.” 

“Why?” 

“I’ve told you! I want to be closer to home. I want to be closer to you.” She proclaimed. 

“Because you want to or you think you have to?” He didn’t want to raise his voice, but it was hard not to. She muttered something about him being unbelievable, plopping down on the window seal.

The sunset was bleeding through her curtains, illuminating all of her features. “I know you’ll be content with going to Indiana State but you won’t be happy. You don’t talk about it like you did UCLA.” 

She ducked her head but he could see the tears spilling from her eyes. He took long strides over to her, squatting down, looking up at her, cradling her face. “I can’t just leave my parents, not after Aaron.” 

“They’ll be okay, Y/n. I’ll come over every week and have dinner with them to make sure they’re okay.” His offer was serious. He’d move in if he had to. 

“But what about you, Steve? I don’t want to leave you.” She sobbed. “I love you.” 

Steve felt a lump in his throat. His stomach flipped and heart nearly jumped out of his chest. Tears ran down his cheek. He used to think he would have to beg someone to say those words to him. Beg them to love him. But there Y/n sat, his best friend, who loved him unconditionally. This made letting go of her even harder. “I love you, Y/n. I’ve loved you an excruciatingly long time. I’ve been in love with you since you wore that yellow Big Bird dress with the puffy sleeves. I’ve been in love with you since I kissed you in the closet. And I love you too damn much to not let you go to California.” 

She laughed and sniffled her nose. “You’re so cheesy.” 

He choked on his own laughter, pushing down another lump forming in his throat. She gave him a sad look, nodding slightly. “Okay, I’ll go.” She ran her fingers through his hair, already missing him. “What will you do while I’m gone?” 

He smiled, running his thumb over her lips. “I’ll be here, waiting for you.” 

“Promise?” She whispered, putting her pinky up. 

“Promise.” He took it and kissed his thumb exactly like they’ve done before since they were ten-years old. 

He then tenderly placed his lips on hers, standing up,  bringing her up with him by grabbing the back of her thighs, allowing her to wrap her legs around him. Steve carried Y/n back to her bed, laying her softly down. 

He made so many promises to her with each kiss and touch. He promised he would call her and write to her. He promised to never forget her favorite song or color. He promised he would never forget the way the color yellow complimented her skin. He promised he would never forget how much she hates peaches. He promised he would never forget the way she made sweet noises or how she moaned his name when she hit her high. 

Most importantly, he promised he would never stop checking if her window was cracked open.

#crying like a baby over here #i love this so much #Sweet tea in the summer #We can be pirates #Then you won't have to cry #steve harrington fanfic