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louloulemons-posts · 9 months

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Touchy-Feeley

Steve Harrington X Reader

Summary : Steve’s always touching you, but it’s totally platonic right?

Word count : 1.5k

Warnings : not proofread, pure fluff, idiots in love, pining, petnames, kisses, don’t think there’s any use of Y/N or descriptors of physical features, this was written at 4am lol.

A/N : This is my first fic for Steve! I can’t believe it’s taken me this long, but I saw a tiktok and it inspired this. I hope you enjoy it 🤍

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

You and Steve had been best friends for a while now, becoming even closer after everything with the Russians at the mall went down.

You’d met through Robin, she’d dragged you into the back of Scoops begging for you help to figure out the code they’d heard.

Well that ended up in you, Robin, two kids called Dustin and Erica and strangely, king Steve Harrington.

You weren’t his biggest fan in highschool, seeing the way he treated people. People like you and Robin. That night changed everything, the way he kept all of you safe, eventhough he didn’t really know you.

After that you’d become friends, not as close as him and Robin or yourself and her, but friends no the less.

There was something else you’d learned about Steve during this time. He was someone who loved physical touch.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

Walking into Family Video you waved over to Robin, “Hey.”

“Hey! Please tell me you bro-” Sliding her lunch across the counter she clasped her hands.

“I love you so much, did you know that?”

“Mhm. I’m using your discount, just so you know,” you spoke and walked away down the aisles to look for a movie or two.

Zoned out whilst you read the back of a case, you jumped when you felt arms wrap around you. “Sorry babe I did call you, but you must’ve not heard me.”

“Hi Steve.”

“Watcha thinking of getting?” he asked, now resting his head on your shoulder. “Not sure, this sounds interesting. It’s called Labyrinth.”

“It’s only been put back out today, it’s meant to be really good.” You hummed in acknowledgement. “Hey maybe we could watch it together?” he suggested.

Tapping your fingers on his hands that were linked around you, “Sure sounds good.”

“Great.”

He let go, but took your hand instantly, pulling you towards the counter. Rubbing his thumb against yours. Things like this had become normal to you now, it was stranger when he didn’t touch you.

Taking the VHS from you, he put it through, putting in his details so you’d get a discount. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Shush. I’ll be watching it too.”

He then pulled out his wallet and put a dollar in the till. “Steve!” you scolded.

“Shush!” Rolling your eyes playfully, you took the movie from him.

“When do you get off?” you asked.

“Like 5, gotta drop Robs home.”

“Do you wanna come over at 6:30 then? Or is that not enough time?”

“No, that’s fine. I’ll bring some snacks.”

“Great, I’ll see you later then.” Giving one last squeeze to your hand, he smiled, “See you.”

Shouting goodbye to Robin, you waved as you headed out. The shorter haired girl appeared in the doorway. Fork in her mouth she mumbled, “You’re so in love with her.”

“Shut up!”

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

The door knocked just after 6:30, quickly answering it, you smiled. Steve dressed in a yellow sweater, a bag in hand. “Hey.”

“Hi,” you smiled, letting him come in.

“So I brought candy and popcorn, and I thought we could get a pizza?” he said, as he placed the food on your kitchen counter.

“Sounds great. My mom and dad are at some reunion thing so we don’t have to share,” you laughed.

He smiled at that, you laugh. It was the most beautiful sound, making butterflies erupt in his stomach.

He knew you were going to be a big part of his life as soon as he lay his eyes on you. He didn’t think it would be in this way. He was scared of getting hurt in all honesty.

After everything that happened with Nancy, he was happy to be playboy King Steve for a while. But then he saw you smile at Robin as she teased him and Dustin in Pig-Latin and knew it was something more.

“Steve,” you voice snapped him back to reality, “lost you for a second there, you okay?” Your eyebrows furrowed in concern.

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine. Sorry, so do you want to order the pizza now and then watch the movie?” he asked.

You let out a laugh, “That’s what I just asked you, silly boy,” you smiled, shaking your head. “Tell you what, you take the snacks into the living room and I’ll call.”

He nodded, pecking your cheek as he walked past you. He didn’t notice how your cheeks flushed when he did. They always did. He had that affect on you.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

With pizzas half eaten and movie playing, Steve spoke, “Come here,” he said, opening his arms up to you.

You grinned as you leaned into him, arms wrapping around you. “I missed you,” he mumbled into your hair.

“Steve you saw me this morning.”

“Too long!” he groaned.

“Well you’ve got me now,” you said, leaning up to leave a soft peck on the his jaw.

He shivered slightly at the feeling. Your eyes went back to movie, head resting on Steves chest, hearing his heart beat.

He could only hope it wasn’t too loud. He felt like it might explode, the way you kissed him could’ve killed him.

He whispered your name, “Yeah Stevie?” Now that, that could kill him. “Did you ever think we’d end up like this? Me and you?”

“Honestly, no. Not in my wildest dreams would I have imagined myself having a pizza and movie night with King Steve.”

He let out a noise of dislike at the name, “I don’t wanna be like that again.”

“You won’t be. Don’t think me or Robs would let you, or Dustin.”

“Yeah I’m stuck with the nerds now.” Letting out a scoff you pushed up off him, “You’re calling me a nerd?” your eyes were wide, in mock offence.

“Well … yeah a bit.”

“How rude! How am I a nerd?”

“Well you’re the biggest book worm I have ever met, you’re great at all school subjects-”

“Am not!”

“Are too. You love sci-fi, you’re fluent in Pig-Latin out of all things, the list goes on and on babe.”

“You’re horrible to me, you know that?”

“Ah yes, the guy who brought you this movie.”

“Using your discount!”

“How horrible, and got you pizza and snacks.”

“I’m not talking to you anymore,” you said, moving over to the over end of the couch.

“Hey come back!” he laughed, pulling on your ankle.

“No! I’m clearly too nerdy to sit next to the great King Steve,” you huffed, trying to pull out of his grip.

“I’m not King Steve.”

“Who are you then?”

“Just Steve.”

“Just Steve?”

“Mhm, and you’re just you. My favourite nerdy person ever.” You rolled your eyes. “That’s it, I come over. Give you wonderful company, feed you and you call me King Steve and roll your eyes at me.”

He got closer to you, “You called me a nerd!”

“And am I wrong?”

“I … Well if I’m a nerd you are too!”

“No!”

“Steve your best friend is a 14 year old genius.”

“Rude. Also you’re my best friend and so is Robin.”

“So a child nerd, a band nerd and a just me nerd?”

“Exactly!”

“Wow.”

He was now next to you again. “Forgive me,” he said, giving you puppy dog eyes. “Stop it!” You laughed at his pouty face.

“Not until you forgive me, I’ll do anything,” he said, wrapping his arms around you once more. “Please forgive me. You’re my favourite nerd.”

“Let me go!”

“Not until you forgive me.” He squeezed you as you tried to wriggle away. Pulling and pushing him, you were on the end of the couch and almost out of his grip.

That was until you fell on the ground, Steve following after. “Jesus are you okay?” he asked, genuinely concerned, pushing up off you.

Unable to answer as you fell into a fit of giggles, “You’re crazy,” he smiled fondly, leaning over you.

Calming yourself you met his eyes, matching his soft smile. He heart thumped against his chest, while your tummy did somersaults.

Leaning down slowly, as to give you time to stop him, but you didn’t. You couldn’t. You wouldn’t.

Soon enough his soft lips met yours, moving together, as if they were made for each other. Your hand went to the base of his neck, playing with the hairs there.

Smiling into the kiss, Steve pulled back, giving you a few more soft pecks. “I wanted to do that for so long,” he whispered.

“Then why didn’t you?”

“Because I didn’t think you liked me like that.”

“Steve have you ever seen me let someone touch me the way you do? Even Robs?”

He tried to recount a time, there’d been one occasion he’d seen Robin hug you and you not squeal pushing her away. The night at Starcourt.

“Oh.”

“Yeah oh. I’m not a touchy-feely person. But for you, I am. I love it.”

“I love it too.”

“Then don’t stop, hold my hand, hug me, kiss me.” He lent down to do just that.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

Thank you so much for reading! Please leave any requests 🤍

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icallhimjoey · 2 months

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joe & joe @ oscars after party

#joseph quinn #joe quinn #joe keery #jq looks scared in EVERY PIC #meanwhile keery's just his relaxed self #what a time to be in this fandom

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kassy-munson · 17 days

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my honey bunny

#joe keery #joe keery fandom #joseph david keery #djo fandom #djo joe keery #djotime #joe keery djo #djo music #djo

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distinguisheddingus · 4 months

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Some things will never change 🤫

#parallelism #steve harrington #stranger things #gator tillman #fargo 5 #joe keery #joe keery fandom #steve stranger things #gator fargo

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joekeeryswife · 2 years

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hii can I get some kurt x reader fluff where she tells kurt that she's rlly into him and Kurt's in denial bc he thinks it has to be a joke but it's rlly fluffy and the readers promising she really likes him and he's all cute and shy 👀

“i like you” “no you don’t” - K.K

i’m sorry this is so short, i’ve had a lot going on today and it’s just messed me up a bit. hope this was okay <3

you were laying in bed with Kurt, his head on your chest as you played with the hair on the back of his neck. "that feels nice" he whispered as he closed his eyes. you laughed slightly and carried on playing with his hair. you sat there for at least another hour before Kurt decided it was time to do a vape review which he insisted you left the room for. you got up off the bed and decided to go talk to his mum who was sat on the sofa. "hey y/n, you okay?" she said, wondering what you were doing out of Kurt's room. usually when you were there, Kurt did not want to leave you alone. "oh yeah i'm fine, Kurt wanted to do a vape review so i left him to it" you said, sitting down next to her.

"oh i see, that boy and his bloody reviews." she laughed, you laughed too and nodded your head, agreeing with her. "i want to thank you y/n." she said, pausing the show she was watching. "what why?" you replied, you'd never really spoken to his mum but when you did, she was always kind to you. "you've made him so happy and i've never seen him like that." she said, patting your knee slightly. "oh no don't thank me, i really like him" you said, giving her a small smile. "y/n? you can come back now" he shouted. "i guess that's my cue to leave" you said, standing up from the sofa and walking back into Kurt's room.

"can i lay on you again?" he said as you walked to his bed, you nodded and laid down, he instantly got on top of you which made you laugh. "i really like you" you whispered as you kissed his forehead. he looked up from your chest and you saw the bright crimson blush which had covered his whole face. "what?" he said, now looking anywhere but at you. "i like you" you replied, you wanted him to know. he'd never had many friends growing up, let alone a girlfriend, so when a stunning girl like you had just told him that, he was in denial. "no you don't" he said, getting up off you, sitting next to you instead. "what? Kurt yes i do. do you really think i'd stay around if i didn't like you?" you said, he couldn't meet your eyes. no one had ever told them they like him and he was shocked that such a pretty girl like you liked him back.

he put his head in his hands and fell back onto your chest, shyness taking over him. "you're so pretty Kurt" you whispered, putting your arms around him. "stop it. you're making me blush" he said which made you laugh. he looked up from you, the bright red blush still covering his face. "why does someone like you, like someone like me?" he said, it sounded like a genuine question which broke your heart. "what do you mean a girl like me and someone like you?" you said, stroking his cheek softly. "what i mean is, hoe can a girl as smart, pretty, caring as you like someone like me? a greasy weirdo who isn't famous." he said. you didn't like it when he spoke down on himself. "do you really think i care about you not being famous? Kurt i like you for you. please don't talk bad about yourself love, i don't like it" you said, your eyes never leaving his figure. "does that mean you really like me?" he whispered.

"of course i do Kurt." you said, giving him a genuine smile. once he saw that he lent down into your chest again. "you're really pretty" you carried on. "again, stop it you're making me blush. i'm the one who should be making you blush" he replied, pushing his head further into your chest. you laughed out loud and pulled his face to look at you. you lent in for a kiss which he gladly reciprocated and once you pulled away you put your hand on his cheek. "i want to be your boyfriend" he said, scanning your face. you smiled brightly and nodded your head. "i want to be your girlfriend" you replied. he smiled and fell back into your neck. he was shy but you loved him.

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infinite-orangepeel · 1 year

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steve and eddie sharing a wardrobe is so adorable and hilarious to me. like imagine steve in eddie’s leather jacket and a lavender pastel polo. eddie in steve’s extra-tight, light-wash levi’s and a mesh long-sleeve. steve in the green hawkins gym shorts and a pair of eddie’s platform boots. eddie accessorizing his metal ‘fits with steve’s sunglasses and nikes. usually looking a bit ridiculous due to the juxtaposition of their clashing styles, but not caring because it makes them both feel loved. it reminds them that they belong to someone, that they’ve finally found a place to call home.

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be-loved-moon · 2 years

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#joe keery #joe keery imagine #joe keery fandom #stranger things cast #joe keery stranger things #steve harrington #🧡💛

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rustedhearts · 11 months

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the incident ♡ part i (boxer!steve x librarian!fem reader)

summary: a brutal argument and steve's terrible temper drive you away from your malibu home. steve loses you again, and this time, you're both left wondering: has he lost you for good this time?

uses she/her pronouns and female anatomy.

✶ the king of the ring ✶ part ii, part iii ✶ main masterlist

tags: angst, so toxic, more manhandling (mostly just Steve grabbing her), shoving, brutal verbal argument, Steve is genuinely terrible, also there's like no build-up, we get straight to it lol.

a/n: this is it, folks. this is the incident, the one that changes everything for steve and libby. it's rough to read, and this is your warning now that it's bordering domestic abuse. but once again, i will never write explicit violence against women (as in, he will never hit her).

malibu, california, november 1992

"Every time. You do this every fucking time, Steve."

The back of your head was just as pretty as the front, but Steve hated the sound of your voice when it was yelling at him. He deserved it, of course—he always did. But that sharp, scolding snap—it enraged him. No matter how much he deserved it, no matter how awful he'd been. Steve hated being yelled at.

"Do what? He was askin' for it."

"Asking for it? Do you hear yourself? You knocked him out cold, you fucking prick!"

Steve stopped short in the open doorway of your Malibu home, holding the doorframe. Freshly cleaned, scented of lemon cleaner, a little slick on the floor. He watched you stomp up the carpeted stairs in your little heels, bag swinging with every pound of your feet. You had that pursed, scrunched look on your face he knew all too well.

But when you yelled at him, he just wanted to yell back.

So, he followed suit, quickly closing the distance between the pair of you. He reached the bedroom just as you threw your purse onto the bed, whipping around to head toward the closet.

"So fuckin' what? I'm just supposed to let some creep—"

"—oh my god, Steve! How many more times are we gonna do this? Its-it's fucking driving me insane!" you shrilled, turning to stare at him in exasperation from his position in the doorway.

Steve huffed, stepping into the closet toward his array of black fabrics on the other side. He whipped his shirt off and let it pool on the ground, belt clinking as he slid it from the buckle.

"Yeah, whatever. How d' you think I feel when I see guys like that all over you, huh? I mean, Jesus Christ, he was practically drooling on your tits, Libby," Steve snarled, hands waving in those open, empty gestures that you always rolled your eyes at.

You paused in your pursuit of changing clothes. Comfortability could wait. Steve needed to understand how infuriating it was to be tugged at and shielded like a doll. How enraging it was to be treated like nothing more than his object, something to possess and hold onto.

You felt like a toy in the tight grip of a boy that refused to grow up.

"He wasn't doing anything. We were talking, Steve. Would you have reacted that way if it were a woman?"

Steve rolled his eyes this time, shoving his jeans over his thighs toward his ankles. He kicked them off, reaching for a pair of loose, black Nike shorts that he usually wore around the house.

He kept his back to you as he yanked them over his hips, slung low enough to show the newly cut muscles he'd gained over gruesome training for higher-stake title fights. He'd been training at a rigorous pace that worried anyone not on his payroll—you most of all.

He was always littered in bruises, always sporting some kind of migraine bordering concussion—and most of all, his anger was at an all time high. If it wasn't something you did, it was something you hadn't done. If it wasn't you, it was anyone nearest you that breathed wrong. It was anyone, anywhere, anytime. No one was spared of Steve's wrath.

But you bared the brunt of it.

"No, because a woman wouldn't be slobbering all over you—"

"—we were talking, Steve! Something you and I don't seem to be doing lately. So yeah—"

"—what? What the fuck are you talking about?" Steve's face screwed sideways, body turning to face you finally.

"—yeah, I'm gonna talk to someone who actually listens to me. It's like talking to a brick fucking wall with you lately."

Steve reared back, then jutted forward: chin first, eyebrows furrowed, eyes squinted inquisitively. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. He hadn't been listening to you?

"Well, maybe I'm fucking tired after working all day, honey. Maybe I don't wanna hear you whine and complain about how boring it is—"

"—ew, God, did you just say that? Do you hear yourself? You think you're so fuckin' important. So fuckin' high and mighty now that you're in Hollywood, right?"

Steve glared at you, jaw tightening. "You know I don't give a shit about—"

"Oh," you snapped, brows raising. "Oh, you don't? No? No, you didn't throw a tantrum after you lost that fight last year?"

"No—"

"You didn't freak the fuck out when Title didn't cut you 'what you deserved' after the Davidson fight?"

"No, don't twist my fuckin'—"

You were standing toe to toe now, Steve half-clothed and barefoot, the dress you'd been wearing all day still sticking to your skin from Californian heat and a humid gym. Your feet were killing you. Your face was flaming hot. Steve's nostrils were flaring rapidly and his breathing was growing unsteady.

This had been building up. After months of fighting and making up, after weeks of giving silent treatments only to be suckered into his kisses and murmured apologies. Months of picking up pieces of picture frames he broke in outburst, deciding to hang them up without the glass to keep from breaking because you couldn't afford his temper. Weeks of wondering when you'd break, when you'd finally snap and ask what the hell happened to the man that protected you, loved you, made you feel like something special and cherished?

Because the man standing in front of you was nothing like the man you first met. The man standing in front of you, millions of dollars richer and all the worse for it, was a cold, hard shell of who you once knew.

"I know you, Steve. You might think you can fool me by pretending you don't care about Hollywood and money and fame but—I know you, Steven. And all you care about," you stepped closer, glaring up the tip of your nose at the broad, fuming boxer, "is your ego."

It was the one-fingered push to his chest that set him off. You were on your way through the door, heading back into the bedroom to put space between the pair of you. But Steve wouldn't let you have the last word. Steve wouldn't let you be right.

"Oh, but it's my 'ego' payin' for all this, isn't it? Huh? I haven't heard you complainin' about all those diamonds around your neck, right?"

The grip Steve had on your arm was all too familiar, and he used it to yank you back around with a force that made you flinch. His hand burned where it wrung your bicep, and you ground your teeth to keep the tears at bay. You wouldn't cry prematurely. You had every right to scream and rage right now.

And with the way Steve was looking at you right now, all condescending pouts and head tilts, chasing your gaze when you wouldn't give it to him because he wanted to corner you—it made you feel truly insane.

"Yeah, you don't care so much about my 'ego' when I'm fundin' your lifestyle, do you, sweetheart? When I'm buyin' all those pretty dresses and fueling a fuckin' jet." Steve punctuated the sharp snap of his teeth with a tightened grip on your arm, using it to yank you into his chest.

You shoved at his chest, eyes starting to burn. "So fucking take it, Steve. I don't want any of it."

Steve tipped his head again, face too close for your liking. You suddenly didn't find those swampy eyes so endearing. The menacing sneer he wore in the ring wasn't so handsome up close.

"No?—"

"No!" you snapped, shoving him again, glaring up at him with wet eyes. "Take it all back, you fucking asshole! It means nothing to me. I was here for you. I was here because I loved you!"

You were crying now, and you hated yourself for it. Why wouldn't you just be strong, breathe through it? Why did he always have to get the best of you? Why did he always have to make you cry?

Steve was silent this time, and it almost made you feel worse. Since when did he have nothing to say to 'I love you?' With a whimpered grunt building in your throat, you shoved your forearm into Steve's stomach, urging him away. His hand loosened around your other arm just enough for you to rip it away, and with another shove to his chest, you yanked free from his hold and stomped toward the closet.

"Here, take it all back, you fucking dick!"

You hurled your clothes toward the bedroom where Steve was fuming at the end of the bed, glaring at all the items piling on the plush, cream carpet. Dresses, skirts, shoes, purses. When you returned to the bedroom, you yanked the pearl drop earrings from your ears and tossed them toward his looming figure. His eyes hardened when they barely brushed his nose.

"There, have it, Steve," you snapped.

You stomped toward the door, rushing for the stairs. Stepping over the mess you made, Steve was quick to follow, bare feet padding the freshly cleaned wood until they met the carpet of the stairs again. You ignored him, sniffling and wiping at your tears, until he took one large step in front of you. You took one back, bumping into the entryway wall as a result.

Blocking your path to the kitchen, Steve crossed his arms and glared down at you. He had you cornered. "Don't act like you're so fucking innocent here, honey," he sneered.

You rolled your eyes, mirroring his stance and folding your arms. "Yeah, I'm sure you'll find something to dock me for, Steven. What did I do this time, huh? Did I breathe wrong?"

"You always fucking flirt with them. You always flirt with other guys, and you know what that does to me. You do it just to fuck with my head." Steve tapped his temple and you tipped your head back with a groan.

"God, you're still on this? I don't flirt with anyone, Steve! The only man I want to be with is you!" Though you weren't so sure you even wanted that anymore.

You wanted Steve—grumpy but lovable, privately sweet and adorable with a dry sense of humor that always made you giggle even when he wasn't trying to be funny. You wanted the Steve that brought you flowers every time he came to pick you up back home in Indiana. You wanted the Steve that begged to wash your hair because he 'liked how your shampoo smelled,' and the Steve who watched you sleep because 'you looked so pretty.'

You didn't want Steve 'The King of the Ring.' You didn't want the Steve that glared and screamed and treated you like another opponent in the ring.

"Oh, yeah? Well what was so fuckin' funny that you had to caress that guy's arm today? Tell me, baby. Was he just so fucking funny—"

"—Jesus, Steve, shut up!"

The tip of Steve's finger bumped your nose when it came to point in your face. "Don't tell me to shut up."

You smacked his hand away, rivaling his mean stare with one of your own. If stares could slice, Steve's head would be in pieces by now.

"Or what?"

The apple of Steve's cheeks were round and red, and a splotchy trail of heat began to scale the length of his neck. You should have shut up. You should have walked away.

You should've left him months ago when you cut your finger cleaning up another one of his messes and he told you to 'be more careful.'

You shouldn't love a man like this.

"Stop it, Libby," he told you lowly, head shaking. "I don't wanna do this with you."

You scoffed, brushing your hair away from your forehead. It was starting to gather a sheen of sweat. "Yeah, right. You only wanna yell at me when I don't yell back, right? You push, and push, and push, and then call me crazy when I finally explode, right, Steve?"

Steve dropped his arms and placed his hands on his hips. His shoulders shrugged in that cocky, douchebag way that always had you boiling.

"I mean...if the shoe fits."

And it was there that any chance of dropping this argument went out the window. It was there that you truly lost it.

Bobbing your head, you dropped your own hands and used them to shove Steve's chest, punctuating every word with a little nudge. You were only adding fuel to the fire, but you were too enraptured by your own fury to care. Finally you were angry, and finally it felt good.

"Oh, is that right? Well, you know what they say about you, Steve? You're just. Like. Your. Daddy."

The house fell silent. You weren't sure Steve was even breathing. But he was staring at you, eyes void and face blank. The only sound that filled the emptiness was the thump of your own heart, like a gong reverberating in your ears.

The regret didn't have a moment to sink in before Steve lunged back into place and slammed his hands into the wall on either side of your head. You jumped, freezing stock-still between his arms caging you in. Your breathing shallowed, caught in the center of your throat.

"Oh, yeah?" Steve growled, tipping his head to find your eyes again. "That's how you feel, honey?"

"Well," you swallowed, steeling your nerves. Steve wouldn't get the best of you today. "If the shoe fucking fits."

"Shut up!"

The impact of Steve's fist against the drywall felt like a firework in your ear. Earth-shattering, ear-splitting, jolting you so hard you lost your breath for a moment. You felt the whoosh of air when he reared back, felt the boom of his hand breaking the foundation. It crumbled in chunks of shattered plaster, clattering against the hardwood.

The room around Steve seemed to vignette. Shadows gathered around the shape of his face, and the space in your lungs shrunk to a minuscule amount. You suddenly couldn't breathe. There was no room in your body for air. Your ears hurt and your cheeks felt swollen, the way they do when you're about to be sick. That sore, stinging ache that came from the onset of tears gathered behind your eyes.

Steve's face went through a series of shifts in the next few palpable moments of silence. First, contorted in anger: brows furrowed and angled down, lip curled into a sneering scowl, cheeks flushed hot red. Then: the brows softened and knitted together, his cheeks dimmed to a soft pink, and his mouth fell agape. His fingers uncurled from their place in the wall. More plaster fell to the floor in chips.

"Oh...oh, god, baby—"

You were out of there. You were so out of there.

You ducked under Steve's arm, still crowding you against the wall. You sprinted for the door, unconcerned about your purse or any of your belongings strewn around the house. The only thing on your mind was getting away.

"I-I'm taking the car," you stuttered out, though you weren't sure why. Maybe you were talking to yourself, reminding yourself to keep moving, to not stop. You couldn't stop. You had to keep going.

"No, don't take the car, baby—"

The jingle of keys between your fingers sounded miles away. As did Steve's voice, following you out the door with a pleading upturn and a nasally whine. He was crying. In the back of your mind, you registered that. Someplace in your head, you saw his tears, heard his pleading.

But you just kept going.

You slid into the car and slammed the door, immediately encompassed by the thick heat collected inside. The brown leather was warm. The engine rumbled to life.

Steve ran across the driveway, all flat grey stones he had redone. His bare feet collected flecks of dirt, little pebbles lodged in his heels. But he had to get to you. He lunged for the car—his car, with you in the passenger seat leaking a shower of tears he wasn't quite sure you knew you were shedding.

Steve banged on the driver window and winced at the sight of his own hand: swollen, split at the knuckles and seeping hot blood. It trickled down his hand and raced for his wrists. He hated how it stained the glass of the window, how it got all over the handle when he yanked at it.

"No, baby, please. Please, baby, open the door. Please, please, please."

You yanked the car into reverse, fingers unsteady and buzzing with some far off, tingling feeling. Everything felt like someone else's actions, someone else's body. It felt like you were watching from a distance.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, don't go. Baby. I'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorry."

You were hiccuping and choking on your own breath as you slammed your foot on the gas and whipped the car around. In the rearview, Steve jogged after the car, half naked and bleeding, and you hurried to put it in drive and haul off. You squealed out of the driveway, down the hill, and toward the end of the street, sobbing the whole way.

It was about five minutes later that you managed to get ahold of yourself. You slurped up whatever snot attempted to escape your nose, wiped it with the back of your still-trembling hand, and clicked on the turn signal to go right.

There were only two other people you knew in Malibu. Right now, you needed a friend.

♡ ♡

to be continued...

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