A sole tear fell down the side of your cheekbone as you scrubbed the blood from your forearm. At the sight of it, your stomach turned. The brassy red had long since seeped into the cotton fabric of your turquoise scrubs.

Another pair ruined.

The words of your last patient in the emergency room- a car accident victim- still rung in your head. Haunting, paralyzing you.

It was some type of monster!

Please, don’t let me die.

I didn’t do anything!

There was nothing that could be done. She lost so much blood in the crash. There was so little time for her to explain the scene, to give clues into the mystery of the curse on Hawkins. So, you left the room with her blood on your hands, terrified of what was happening in your hometown.

It had been nearly three months since the violence had begun- teenagers disappearing, patients with inexplicably harsh injuries, partners taking their anxiety out on each other. You had started working at Hawkins General Hospital just as a volunteer about two months ago. However, due to the rise in crime and terror, your hours had extended far past what was customary. You now found yourself pulling ten hour days on the weekends.

People claimed to have heard voices. People became paranoid about the street lamps in their neighborhoods. There were car crashes and domestic abuses. There were fires and shootings. Neighborhood hotspots got blocked off with military personnel.

None of it made any sense to you.

With one last scrub, you turned off the faucet and reached for the stack of paper towels. The blood was gone from your skin, but you could still feel it there. The fabric of your scrubs felt hot and tight against your skin. But, you had no time to change into a fresh pair as you heard an announcement over the intercom.

Code Yellow. All medical personnel to their assigned stations.

Quickly reaching for your lanyard, you scanned the list of codes you hadn’t had the chance to memorize yet.

Code Red- Fire

Code Blue- Cardiac Arrest

Code Brown- Hazardous Spill

Code Yellow- Missing Person

A missing person in the hospital?

Promptly, you made your way back to the 3rd floor in search of Danielle, the nurse you were assigned to shadow.

Once you spotted the redhead at the nurses station, your steps quickened.

“Danielle? What are we- uhm- can I do anything?” You said quickly. At the sound of your voice, Danielle immediately perked up from the binder she was writing in.

“Oh, kid. You’re still here?” She asked, seemingly uninterested in your help.

“Yeah, I was just- I was helping out in the emergency room. Car accident.”

After a moment of silence, she spoke again. “Did you need something?”

Her lack of care surprised you. Did she not hear the code?

“Well, it’s just- the code that was called, I don’t really know how to help. I haven’t been told.”

“Oh, and I assume that would be my fault?” She asked pointedly.

“No! No, it’s not your fault. I was just wondering. I’ve never seen it happen before.”

For a moment, Danielle looked up from her papers again and considered you. You could see the faint dark circles under her hooded eyes and the way she had trouble focusing on you.

“Look, the other nurses will handle it. It was a patient from the fifth floor- they’ve got people out looking for him.” She said. “Hey, if you’re not busy then, would you mind running to the East Wing to get me a cup of coffee? I’ve got loads of patient intake forms to go through. Thanks.” Then, she picked her pen back up and started pulling out manila folders from a nearby cabinet.

Nodding once, you turned on your heel and fished around for quarters in your pocket.

Once you arrived at the East Wing of the hospital, you were surprised by how quiet that part of the building was. There were no nurses bumping shoulders at the supply cart or people on make-shift beds in the hallways.

No, instead there were a few nurses with clipboards making their rounds, talking in hushed tones. It was bizarre, but you didn’t let it deter you from the coffee.

Arriving at the vending machine, you felt around in your pockets for two quarters and tentatively slipped them into the slot. The machine started to whir quietly.

As you walked sluggishly back to the West Wing of the hospital with two hands holding the coffee, you heard a door slam aggressively from the end of the hallway. Out of curiosity you followed the sound and were led to a staircase. The placard next to the door read:

STAIRS TO ROOF

You sighed.

Fresh air.

A beautiful sunset.

Fresh air.

The thought of going up to the roof then was all too appealing. You were going onto hour seven of your volunteering shift and had yet to take a true break from the labor. Your scrubs were still hot and restricting on your skin. Also, the heat radiating from the coffee in your hands warmed you up even more. You figured that you could take a quick five minute break outside, after all, Danielle didn’t seem to want you around all that much. You set the coffee down by the doorframe.

With one hand, you pushed open the door and ascended the several flights.

The first thing your eyes met when you pushed open the door to the roof was the blood orange sky. Hues of piercing red and muted yellow were swirled into a magnificent sunset. The breeze was gentle against you, effectively removing the thin layer of sweat that had accumulated on your skin.

As you edged closer to the railing guarding the roof, you were able to see all of downtown Hawkins- the faint twinkling of a barbershop sign, kids heading East in flights of bicycles, smoke pouring out of the tallest chimney of the local steel mill.

The town had never looked so peaceful. You wished it could be like that all the time.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” You heard a voice sound from an unknown place. Immediately, you tensed and turned your body from the ledge. As you scanned the rooftop you saw a figure lurking near the opposite side- a man you had never seen before. His handsome features were speckled with blood, his clothes shredded slightly over his limbs.

For a moment, you didn’t know whether to be scared or concerned with his state.

Slowly, you took a small step towards him. He moved to wipe his eyes with the fabric of his fraying shirt, and you saw that his sleeves became streaked with tears.

“Are you okay?” You asked tentatively. “What are you doing up here?”

“I just-“ he sniffled, “-just needed some air. It gets crowded in there.”

You moved again, closer to him. There was a small ledge surrounding some type of generator a few feet from you, so you took a seat there. As you stretched your legs out you looked up at him again, only to find him already looking over at you.

“I get that. Things have been crazy around here lately.” You said. “Are you, uhm, a patient?”

He swallowed. “I- yeah. I am.”

After a beat, you spoke again. “Are you allowed to be up here? I mean, does anybody know you’re up here?”

“I’m not sure. I just left, I couldn’t stay there.” He said quietly, eyeing your clothes. “Do you work here?”

You ran your hands down your torso, feeling the fabric of your scrubs. “I’m just volunteering for the summer.”

He nods slightly.

“I think they’re looking for you in there,” you point out, “they called a code and everything.”

His eyebrows narrowed at your words.

“But I won’t- I won’t turn you in or anything. Not if you don’t want to go back.” You add tentatively.

He looked down at the ground. “I don’t want them to see me like this.”

“Who? Are you here with your family?”

He laughs, like, audibly laughs at your words.

“My family? No, no I doubt my parents even know I’m here.”

His tone makes your heart sink a little. “Now, why would you say something like that?”

“My parents are-“ he pauses as he tries to find the words. “-busy.” He decides.

“Well, then who are you here with? I’m sure they’re worried about you.”

He blinks slowly.

“You are- here with people right? You’re not alone?”

He shakes his head slightly. “No, I’m not alone. I came with a group and they’ve got us all crammed into a room on the fifth floor. I just can’t stand to be around them right now. You see-“ he begins, but stops abruptly. “Sorry. I don’t know why I’m telling you this.”

“You can tell me.” You offer politely.

He looks out at the darkening sky, scanning the clouds as if they held the answers he was looking for.

His body ached.

Gruesome scenes from the past kept him from sleeping at night.

There were people who depended on him, people who looked at him as a source of their own strength.

He felt he was losing the best parts of himself to a cruel world.

“I’m just so tired of trying to be strong.” He admits quietly, his eyes not leaving the sky. ”I’m tired of pretending to be okay- of faking smiles.”

A pang of sadness hits you unexpectedly. The pain he was experiencing sounded heavy. It sounded harrowing.

It sounded familiar.

Day in and day out at Hawkins General Hospital had been taking a similar toll on you. You had seen enough pain to last you a lifetime- widows sobbing over cold bodies, patients writhing around in pain, doctors calling their families to let them know they can start dinner without them. You had seen the light leave peoples eyes.

There were days where you wanted to quit. However, you usually became overwhelmed by a sense of duty and guilt.

How could you leave knowing that there were people suffering?

How could you ignore their pain?

You felt a tear fall from your eye and you didn’t move to wipe it away. “That sounds awful.”

You heard him hum in agreement.

He took a small step towards you, but his left knee buckled with the motion and he hit the concrete floor in front of you. As he propped himself upright you saw that his fall scraped the palms of his hands. He looked down at himself and groaned.

You wiped your cheek and started to crawl towards him quickly.

“Hey, hey it’s okay. You’re okay.” You coo gently. “Here, just lay against the step here for a second. What’s your name?”

“Steve- it’s uhm, Steve Harrington.” He says through gritted teeth. You quickly tell him your name.

“Okay, Steve. Where does it hurt?”

He sighs and takes his face in his hands, then peels them away once he remembers the freshly opened wounds. “M-my leg. God, it feels awful.”

Once he’s finally settled against the step you lay your hand against his shoulder to ground him. Then, you take the corner of your sleeve and start wiping at the spots of blood on his cheekbone. There were no cuts or scratches lying underneath, which made you question where the blood came from.

“What happened to you? If you- don’t mind me asking.” You bring your hand down from his face.

He sits in a thoughtful silence for a moment. You assume he’s replaying whatever gruesome scene brought him here.

“I can’t- it’s just,” he mutters out. His lip begins to quiver as he struggles to find the words.

“You know what? Don’t worry about it. Don’t even think about it. Here, just let me help you. You said it was your leg?”

Steve lifts his hand and motions abstractly to his left leg, the one you were sitting closest to. “Yeah, just- right above my knee.”

You look down at his left leg and see the denim of his jeans shredded around his knee. There was blood soaking through the blue fabric.

At the sight, your stomach turns. Sure, you’ve dealt with bloody injuries before, but never by yourself. You go to shift the fabric to give yourself a better look at the injury but stop once you realize you’re not wearing the proper latex gloves.

You start to stand up, “Listen, I’m just gonna run downst-“ You stop speaking once you feel his hand grip around your wrist.

“You’re leaving?” He asks, his eyes moving wildly.

“Just to get some supplies. I’ll be back.”

But his grip doesn’t loosen.

“Steve-“

“Please, just- don’t leave yet.” He sighs. “Can you maybe just sit with me for a little bit?”

You look down at him and are immediately met with his wide brown eyes. His eyebrows are pushed together slightly, and the sight makes your heart ache.

“Your leg-“

“Please.”

Your lips purse. It wouldn't be right for you to abandon his need for medical attention, but you supposed you couldn’t force it on him either.

Turning slightly, you move to lay against the steps alongside him and you hear him breath a sigh of relief.

“If you bleed out on this rooftop I’m gonna be pissed.” You say jokingly. Next to you, Steve chuckles lightly and then clutches at his aching ribs.

After a few minutes of blissful silence pass, he speaks again. “You know, you never answered my question from before.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I asked you if you thought it was beautiful- the sky.” He replies gently with his eyes still locked on the sky.

Since he asked the first time, the colors before you had faded from a bright blood orange to a warm magenta hue. It was truly spectacular, as if the sky was putting on an exhibit just for the two of you.

You hum. “ ‘s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

Finally, he pulls his eyes from the sky and settles them on your profile. A warm feeling spreads throughout his chest, something he hasn’t felt for a long time.

Content.

Hope.

“Good.” He states simply. “I’m glad.”

The two of you lied there until the Sun fully disappeared behind the horizon, basking in the comfort of a stranger’s shared pain.

Your complexion gleamed under the warm lights of Steve Harrington’s living room, which was currently stuffed with buzzed teenagers dancing tragically to soft rock. It was the Friday after the Winter Break of your senior year. Although you had college admissions essays to write, SATs to prepare for, and mountains of homework to complete over the break, nobody could turn down a party invitation from Steve Harrington. The careless teenagers sought refuge at the grand house often and Steve was more than eager to accommodate them. Hosting parties became a part of his routine, his reputation- mostly because he was the only person in his senior class whose parents were almost never home.

Thank God for that.

So, your body swayed gently alongside your classmates as you sipped on a drink someone had shoved in your hand. It was somewhat of a red color and had hints of orange soda, fruit punch, and way too much rum. Delicious.

“Oh, look who decided to show up,” Steve bantered playfully from behind you. At the sound of his voice, you turned your head and scanned the crowd to find him.

“Steve!” You smiled, slightly tipsy. “Of course I came. How could I say no to you?”

Steve returned your expression with a confident grin. He was amused with your comment. Always so easy to please.

You knew that he had a thing for you- that much was obvious. Between the lingering touches and constant favors he was doing you, he didn’t hide it very well. But you figured if you ignored it for long enough it would go away on its own.

You had heard stories from girls around school, his ex-girlfriends, about his clinginess and sensitive nature.

He would call my house every night!

I blew him off once and he never let it go.

Of course you thought Steve was cute as a button, but there was no way you were gonna deal with another teenage guy that wouldn’t give you a second of peace.

“God, I haven’t seen you in forever,” he muttered as he looked down at your face. The rum punch you were drinking left a faint red stain on your lips.

You giggled. “What are you talking about, Steve? I saw you earlier this week.”

He pulled your body closer to his and smoothed down your wild hair. “Feels like forever.”

“You missed me?” You teased. His eyes slid down your body and settled on the carpeted floor, a faint blush spreading across his cheeks as he smiled bashfully.

To stifle his shyness, you spoke again. “What have you been up to? I heard the basketball team’s kicking ass, yeah?”

Steve perked up. “Oh, we’ve been killing it out there. Coach says we might have a chance at states.”

“Oh I bet.” You say as you down the last contents of your drink.

Steve was quiet for a moment. Then, “You know- I don’t think I’ve ever seen you at a game before. Why’s that? Don’t wanna support your local team?”

You shuffle the remaining ice cubes in your glass as you think of a response. “Well, what business do I have going to a basketball game?”

Steve smiles. “I mean, you could come to see me play.”

Internally, you groan at the cutesy suggestion. The image appeared in your hazy mind for a moment- you cheering in the stands of Hawkins High gymnasium wearing Steve’s jersey with your cheeks striped green and orange. What a cliche.

“You want me to see you play?” You tease.

He shakes his head rapidly. “Yeah, actually. It’d be nice to see a pretty girl in the crowd.”

A sigh leaves your mouth but he doesn’t catch it. He slid a hand over his hair to smooth it down, and honestly, the idea of him primming himself so that you thought he looked nice was kind of cute. And hey, he did look kind of nice.

“Whatever you say, Steve.” You relent.

“Now, c’mon don’t just brush me off.” He smiles. “I’m serious. I’d love to see you at one of my games.”

Your mouth opens but no sound escapes. From a distance, you can hear the music stopping as someone switched out the tape.

“I-uhm,” you shake up the ice cubes in your cup, “I’m gonna go get another drink. I’ll see you ar-“

“Oh, hey I’ll get you another one. What kind of host would I be if I didn’t take care of my guests?” He laughs as he takes the plastic cup from your hand. As the cup slides into his grip, you feel his fingers gently placed against yours. For whatever reason, the touch shoots electricity from your brain to every nerve in your body.

As you look up into his eyes, you know he felt it too.

“Oh, fuck,” Steve groaned into your ear as you rolled your hips over his jeans, straddling him on his mattress. He slid his hands up to hold your waist, desperate to keep the delicious pressure on his cock. “That’s so good, baby.”

His voice sounded slightly muffled to you due to the pulsing, electric sound of contemporary music and rowdy dialogue radiating from downstairs. You tried your best to focus solely on him, the way he felt against you. The alcohol helped you to shut out the outside world, as well as the self-preserving distance you had been told to put between you and Steve.

“Feels so good,” you sighed softly into his neck. “I knew you’d feel so good.”

He stared at you with a dazed look in his eyes, slightly pushing his hips up to press into you further. “Yeah?” he challenged, “you want more?”

His grip on you tightened as he awaited your answer. But, you kept torturously silent for a few moments, contemplating. You wanted to keep him on his toes.

Then, “God, yes. Please.”

The only thing separating your sensitive skin with his was the rough denim of his Levi’s and the soft cotton of your panties. The fashionable skirt you put on for the party had long since ridden up your waist, leaving you nearly exposed. Steve moved to undo his belt buckle as you pressed your hands to his chest. He felt strong underneath you- all warm skin and softly toned muscle. Once his belt was tossed to the hardwood floor, he moved his hands to the small zipper on the back of your skirt.

You stalled as you felt his hands dip under your waistband.

“I wanna keep it on,” you stated, “I’ll just slide my panties to the side.”

“But-“ he argued, “I- I just wanna see you. Please. You’re so beautiful. Just-just let me see you, baby.”

You may have been slightly buzzed, but you were sober enough to keep things at least somewhat clean and simple. If you indulged in that type of intimacy you knew he’d make it into something bigger than it was. If you got naked for him, he’d swoon at the closeness, he’d melt against the warmth of your skin. You knew to cut him off before it got too intimate.

“I just-“ you replied, “ngh, I can’t wait. Just want it now.” And without another word you pulled the cotton fabric to the side and reached for the waistband of his boxers.

Steve just looked at you, not your moving hands or your exposed cleavage, but your concentrated face.

“Whatever you want,” he said warmly, placing a wet kiss on your clothed shoulder.

By the time you got to school the following Monday, the memory of Friday night with Steve was fuzzy in your mind. You remember leaving the party pretty much right after you hooked up with him. He had insisted on you spending the night in his bed, or at least for him to give you a ride home. But, you rejected his advances and left his bedroom promptly after. That was the last time you had seen him.

So, when you saw him waiting around your locker that morning, your footsteps faltered.

“Hey!” Steve called out to you when he first spotted you in the hallway. He was holding one strap of his backpack with his hand, the other one tucked into the front pocket of his khakis.

“Hey, Steve,” you replied as you turned your combination into the lock. “Great party Friday.”

“Yeah, it was pretty great, wasn’t it?” His eyes were glued to your profile as you sorted through your books. “That’s, uhm, kind of what I wanted to talk to you about.” He added hesitantly.

Your heartbeat quickened. “Did you…. need something?”

“Well, it’s just that we- well y’know…” His voice softened at the explicit allusion.

“And?” You replied.

His eyebrows sank. “What do you mean ‘And’, we-“ he scoffed. “We had sex.”

You remained silent, now zipping up your backpack.

“I mean- doesn’t that mean anything to you?” He asked incredulously.

“I don’t really know what to say, Steve. We hooked up. It’s not really a big deal.”

“Not a big deal? What do you-“ Steve sighed, “Baby, what are you talking about?”

Suddenly, you felt eyes on you. You turned your head slightly and saw that some students had started to linger around the two of you, trying to catch fragments of the conversation.

“I’m not your baby, Steve. You’re not my boyfriend.”

His eyes softened. “I know that. I know, it’s just-“

You give him a prompting nod. “-it’s just….”

A soft sigh left his mouth. “I-I could be,” he shrugged. You briefly looked down at your polished shoes. The laces were tied way too tight.

“It’s not like that, Steve. I’m sorry. I thought you knew that.”

“It could be,” Steve argued, “We already see each other all the time. And-and we’re obviously both attracted to each other. And-“

”Steve,” you cut him off, “What are you doing?”

He blinked. His mouth was slightly open, seemingly stuck on what to say next; what would make this right, what would give him what he truly wanted. But, he couldn’t bring himself to say the words that were ringing in his ears.

Suddenly, the bell rang for homeroom and you noticed that the hallway was completely empty except for the two of you.

“I’ve got to get to class, Steve. But, I’ll- I’ll see you around, okay?” You ask as your figure was already retreating, leaving him alone in the hallway.

His mouth closed and he felt his tongue go dry. “See ya,” he muttered to himself, shrugging his backpack higher onto his shoulder.

Over the next couple of days, Steve thought more about his relationship with you more than he ever had before. In school, his eyes scanned the rooms he entered in search of you. At home, he recounted the words you spoke to him at the party. When he was in the locker room after the basketball game you didn’t show up to, he stared at his body in the mirror. He contemplated what you thought about his shape, brushing his fingers over where you touched him.

How did he get this all so wrong?

He’d never really been casual with a girl before, but he didn’t think it would feel this odd. He didn’t understand how you could have no romantic feelings for him whatsoever despite your obvious physical attraction to him. Weren’t they basically the same thing? Interconnected? They had always been for him, at least.

There was something about that night that felt meaningful to him. Like, it was the start of something he had been working for ever since he got over Nancy Wheeler.

Besides your beautiful face and charming smile, he was intoxicated by the feeling he got from simply being around you. That’s why he invited you to those parties. Hell, that’s probably why he kept throwing them so often. So, when you asked him if he wanted to go upstairs with you the night of the party, he smiled suavely and followed your lead, but was rubbing the palms of his hands on the back of his jeans the whole way up.

After a few weeks of living in limbo, he couldn’t help himself. The weekend was just around the corner, and in second period American History as he stared at the back of your head, he made plans to call his parents at lunch to see what they’d be doing that weekend.

The Harrington House looked beautiful the night of Steve’s sporadic Saturday night party- warm leftover Christmas lights strung on the rooftop, a sprinkling of snow on the landscaped lawn, icicles glistening as they hung from the windows.

From the moment the first guest showed up, Steve was on edge. Making himself useful was a good distraction, he recently discovered. So, he went around pointing people to the drinks, helping people set up beer pong in the basement, and pacing in the kitchen as it got later into the night. You were never one of the first people at the party.

Like clockwork, you walked into the house leading a pack of your girlfriends at around nine.

Steve's heart stuttered as he saw you- all dressed up in a pretty, black outfit. You had one lock of hair twisted between your fingers as you walked further into the house, assessing the atmosphere.

Like the good host that he was, Steve wanted to seek you out immediately. But, he didn’t know what was going through your head since your conversation by the lockers the other week. He didn’t know if the two of you had agreed to be casual, or if the two of you were even on good terms at all.

Steve thought it would be best for you to have a drink and adjust for a few minutes before he went looking for you on the dance floor, where you’d inevitably end up.

Still, he was ecstatic that you showed up at all. That had to be a good sign, right?

By nine thirty, you found yourself next to your friend Monica as the two of you danced around in the Harrington’s living room. The room was warm and stuffy with all the bodies pressed against each other, but, you found the temperature kind of nice.

You were nursing a drink that some guy in your art class gave you- a purpleish drink that had hints of grape soda, lemonade, and again, way too much vodka. Yummy.

Steve was eyeing you from the kitchen as he pretended to listen to a guy on the basketball team, Martin, talk about how the coach was gonna make him Captain next year. His eyes trailed all over your swaying figure. The distance was getting harder to maintain.

“Ugh, I love this song!” Monica shouted from beside you as Footloose started playing from the speakers. She swung one uncoordinated arm around you and started pulling you along to dance faster with her. You giggled as you tried to keep up.

“Yeah, no but that last one against the Lions? Their defense was all over the place. God, my shoulder hurt like hell after that game.” Martin mumbled drunkenly to Steve as he refilled his grape soda-lemonade-vodka. Steve’s head started to hurt a little with all the noise, but he couldn’t bring himself to leave the scene, especially since you were there.

“‘Kay I gotta go find Annie, I’ll see you later man.” Martin remarked before disappearing into the basement. Finally alone, Steve took a breath before smoothing his hair back with his hand. He moved out of the kitchen swiftly and descended to the living room, rubbing his palms on the back of his jeans.

Monica was stepping on your feet with her kitten heels as the two of you danced. At that point, she was completely wasted. You thought about trying to find her a ride home, but you didn’t ask around because you selfishly didn’t want to have to leave the party. You hadn’t seen Steve yet, and it was starting to bother you.

The conversation you had with him the other week still puzzled you. There was still so much that was left in the air between the two of you.

Since then, you had briefly wondered what Steve would be like as your boyfriend.

Of course, clingy.

Probably overbearing.

But, you still felt bad for not wanting to commit to him more. He was a nice guy. Plus, you were sure your exes had a couple of things to say about you. You weren’t perfect, so how could you hold him to such a high standard?

“I didn’t think you’d show up,” a voice sounded from behind you. You took a breath before turning to face him.

“Steve, hi,” You said cautiously as Monica started to lean her full body weight on you.

“You look great,” Steve said, “you always look great.”

Your face flushed at his compliment. He took it as a good sign.

“You look, uh, great too. I like that jacket on you.”

His posture straightened at your compliment. Oh, this was a great sign.

“Thanks” he said simply. He hadn’t really planned out what to say to you once he got there, instead he followed the gravitational pull of your presence. “We won against the Lions the other day,” he offered quickly. “Next game determines who goes to counties.”

You smiled genuinely. “Steve, that’s great. Your coach must be so proud of you guys.”

“Yeah,” he replied, eyeing the swaying girl beside you. “Is she- Is she okay?”

Monica started giggling into your blouse. “Ah, she’s- she’s just a little drunk.”

“Just a little?” Steve challenged. Suddenly. Monica jerked upwards, inadvertently spilling the remaining contents of her drink on Steve’s sneakers. ”Here, let’s get her upstairs.” Steve said. He swung one strong arm around her for support and began guiding the two of you between the teenagers in the crowd.

When you walked into Steve’s bedroom behind him and Monica, you immediately felt a sense of déjà vu. The soft rock playing faintly from behind the closed door, the dimmed lights, the scent of alcohol on your breath. You wondered if Steve felt it too.

He plopped Monica onto the foot of his bed and she leaned against the bedpost. Moving quickly, he grabbed the carafe from his nightstand and began pouring Monica a glass of water. She took it from him gratefully, only spilling a few drops on the comforter beneath her.

“Thank you for, uhm, helping her. It’s very nice of you.” You squeaked from the side of the room.

Steve quickly looked up at you, catching your eye contact immediately.

“ ‘s no problem.” He shrugged.

Then, a silence filled the room. Neither of you knew what to say to each other because you both weren’t sure where you stood. You listened as Monica slurped the water from the glass cup, occasionally coming up for a big gasp of air. It was kind of annoying, but you were glad she was there as a buffer.

“Look, I’m sorry for, uhm, putting you on the spot like that the other day.” Steve said quickly as he stood up from the bed.

“It’s okay, Steve. It was just confusing- that’s all.”

“Well, I don’t want things to be- to be confusing for us.”

“Don’t worry about it,“ You shrug. “It’s casual. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

He deflates slightly. “Casual,” he echos, testing the words on his tongue.

You take a small step closer to him. “Steve, I really liked being with you that night.”

He looks down at your face. Your eyelids were sparkling with a faint silver glitter, and he thought it looked magnificent. Taking a step closer to you, he could smell your floral perfume- the same scent that’s been on his pillows for weeks. Your lips were painted a faint pink shade, the same shade that was smeared on the collar of his favorite shirt. Your long nails were pressing crescent shapes into the palm of your hand, matching the ones you left on his bare shoulders a few weeks ago.

He realized then that you were everything.

And that scared him.

But the idea of not having you in any capacity scared him even more.

“I can be that for you.” He said, wiping his eyes with the denim of the jacket you loved on him.

You stalled. Internally, you were struggling to accept his proposal in good faith. That wasn’t what he wanted. He was doing it to make you happy. But, you also couldn’t stand the idea of losing him forever.

“You don’t want that, Steve.”

He sighed, “Maybe I do! Maybe I just- just want to be close to you.”

Your heart sank at his admission, your nails pressing further into your palm. You felt like a spoiled child.

“That’s not fair to you.” You said, watching his eyes lower to the floor. “You shouldn’t settle, okay?”

Slowly, he brought his hands up to your hips and squeezed gently. “It’s not settling. It’s- I’d be lucky to have you.”

The words sat in the air between the two you for a moment, saccharine and honest. He was so close to you, and the distance was only growing smaller. Steve brought one hand to the back of your neck for support. Then, he kissed you.

It was quick, but firm.

When he pulled away from you, he started searching your face for something that would suggest he was out of line. However, your head was already tilted slightly away from him. Quickly, you looked over to Monica, who was lying quietly on the foot of the bed. Her mouth was slightly agape and her eyes were closed. A sigh of relief left your mouth.

You turned back to Steve, and hidden from the prying eyes of his gossipy ex-girlfriends, you kissed him back.

Steve was delightfully surprised. As soon as the initial shock passed, he quickly moved to lock his lips against yours, pressing and pulling your lips gently.

A soft smacking sound began to fill the room, mixing tantalizingly with the muffled sounds of music from downstairs. Your fingers found his hair and you pulled slightly at his roots. The distance between the two of you closed again and you reveled in the warmth his presence brought you. His hands slid down to your back, pulling you firm against his steady frame.

Suddenly, Steve pulled away from you for air. Still, his face remained close to you and his lips still brushed against yours. His breath was hot against your mouth.

“Don’t let me go,” he whispered against your lips. His tone was soft but surprisingly steady. “Just- just try me. Give me a chance.”

After a beat, you spoke softly. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

Steve broke out into a small smile. “Really?”

Slowly, you took an eye pencil you had been carrying around for touch up’s out of your pocket and removed the cap with your teeth. Taking his arm, you placed the pencil against it firmly and started to write out numbers.

“You can call my house,” you clarified, “just- just not every night, okay?”

“Yeah, okay. I’ll call you.” He smiled wider. You moved towards the bed and wrapped an arm around Monica.

“Come on, Mon” you whispered in her ear, your voice slightly wavering.

Steve watched as the two girls stumbled out of his bedroom. As you moved to close the door behind you, you looked up and found his eyes once more.

“Goodnight, baby.” You teased gently.

He chuckled. “Get home safe, baby.”

You removed yourself from his presence with the last bits of strength you could garner, stumbling with your friend back into the party Steve threw for you, and exiting out the front door.

The various squeaks and misplaced notes of the Hawkins’ High School band could be heard echoing throughout the halls during 7th period- instruments clanging haphazardly, the faint tap of the band teachers baton against the podium, a low chatter sounding from the tuba players in the back row. You were immersed amongst the instruments and raucous sound. You sat near the far right with the other flute players, including your two friends, Angelina and Kristen. The three of you were wearing your matching cheer uniforms.

“Alright everyone, let’s wrap it up for the day! The bell rings in 6 minutes!” Your teacher sounded from behind his podium. Around you, students began to disassemble their instruments. However, before your fingers could work to undo the clasp on your flute case, you froze as you heard your friends’ secretive murmurs from beside you. The two girls were looking off to the far side of the band room, giggling and slapping each other's arm playfully now and then.

“What’s so funny?” You muse. Their eyes shoot up at you and they double over in laughter. At this point, they were attracting the attention of some other band members.

“We’re sorry! We’re sorry, it’s not you. It’s not you, it’s just-“ Kristen laughed, “-well, it’s her.” She pointed to where the two girls had just been looking before. Curiously, you turn your head to follow her finger. Your eyes scan several familiar faces before you pick up on the latest victim of your friend's judgment.

Robin Buckley was sat with the other french horn players, chatting with a few as she tucked loose sheets of music into a folder.

You had known Robin pretty well when the two of you were younger. Your moms had been on the cheer squad together when they attended Hawkins High, and their friendship had extended to their adult lives. Every month during your youth, you would accompany your mom to parks, coffee shops, bookstores, as she went to meet up with Melissa Buckley and her darling daughter. The friendship between the two of you was natural and light- a bond forged over, not only the forced proximity, but a shared love of marine animals and coloring books.

However, as the two of you grew older, the bond became frayed. When you joined the cheer squad in high school, the bond was snapped. Now, your weekends were filled with shopping at the mall with your new cheer friends, making eyes at whatever group of boys approached you. The memory of your friendship with Robin slowly faded away, neither of you making a clear effort to keep each other in your lives.

Your stomach twists. “What’s so funny about her?”

“You mean, besides the obvious?” Angelina snorts.

Kristen laughs. “She’s so fucking creepy. I had gym class with her before this, and she was- like- full on checking me out in the locker room.”

“Checking you out?” You echo, laughing slightly.

”It’s so gross. I was standing there in just my underwear, you know, getting changed, and I looked up and saw her already looking at me- at my tits.” Kristen spits out.

“There’s no way,” you say incredulously.

“And it’s not the first time! Okay? She always fucking looking at me.”

Next to her, Angelina starts giggling again. “She definitely has a big lesbian crush on you.”

Kristen grimaces. “Ew, don’t joke about that. That’s actually disgusting.”

Angelina resumes laughing and soon enough, Kristen joins in. They resume talking in hushed tones, sporadically pointing to Robin and looking at her with a hint of disdain in their eyes.

You had heard rumors about Robin before, from your other cheer friends. They all seemed convinced that Robin was in love with them- checking them out, staring at them, lusting after them. The worst part was that after hearing the same thing being said about her for years, you started to believe it.

“They should put her in a separate locker room- you know, for our safety.” You said, joining in on your friends laughter.

The sound of a chair scraping harshly against the floor startles you. You look up to see Robin, who was looking between you and your friends. With a scoff, she turns on her heel and walks quickly out of the room. But, your eyes don’t miss the stray tears falling from hers.

“Oh, thank God she left.” Kristen scoffs.

Your face is fully flushed as you hear the bell ring, signaling the end of 7th period. Secretively, you glance back up to where Robin once was. Your stomach plummets- a mixture of guilt and something you couldn’t quite put your finger on gnawing on the lining of your stomach.

“Hey, we’re still on for tonight, right?” Kristen says as she slings her backpack over her shoulder.

Your eyes dart back to Kristen at the sound of her voice.

“The sleepover! Right, yeah. You guys can come over at seven.”

“Cool, see you tonight.” Angelina says as the two girls retreat out of the room, leaving you ruminating on their words.

When you get home from school that day, you are immediately met with the scent of garlic wafting out from the kitchen. Curiously, you follow the scent and see your mother by the stove, dropping a handful of rosemary into a cooking pot. Your mother looks up from the dish as she hears your footsteps in the kitchen.

“Oh, hey baby! How was school?” She says.

You eye the pot for another second before turning your attention to her. “It was okay. Not too crazy.” You pause for a second. “What are you making?”

“Well, we’re going to be having some people over for dinner tonight. Thought I might try a new recipe.” She shrugs.

“Dinner? Tonight? Mom, my friends are sleeping over tonight!” You huff. “Who’d you invite anyways?”

“The Buckley’s! You remember them, right? You used to love hanging out with their daughter.”

Your eyes widen. “You invited the Buckley’s over? Mom, why?”

“I ran into Melissa at the post office today! We haven’t seen each other in a while, so I invited her family over. God, I missed her.” Your mother smiles as she turns a page in an open cookbook.

“Is it just her and Richard coming over?” You ask hopefully.

“She said she’d see if Robin wanted to come over. Isn’t that great? It’ll give you two girls a chance to catch up!”

“No, Mom-“ you sigh, “-my friends, they hate her. They’re not going to want her here.” For a moment, you remember what transpired in the band room earlier today- the dirty looks, the accusations, the pure disgust at her presence.

”Well, that’s not a very nice thing to say.” Your mom replies. “Your friends can come over another night then, sweetie.”

You groan. “We’ve been planning this all week, Mom! I can’t cancel on them now.”

“I don’t know what to tell you! The Buckley’s are coming over and that’s final. Go get ready, they’re coming over around five.”

Meanwhile, across town Melissa Buckley was just returning home from her day of errands. Her daughter, Robin, was sprawled out on the couch in the living room, trying to erase the events of the day from her mind. She was flicking through the channels on the TV before groaning at the lack of entertainment.

“Rob! You’re never going to guess who I ran into at the post office today.” She called out from the kitchen.

Robin sat up from the position she was lying in. “Who?”

“You remember my friend Linda? The one from high school?” She asked. Robin paused for a moment, scrolling through the archives of her memory. When it hit her, her stomach sank.

Your face immediately appeared in her mind- pretty, popular, distant. The memory of the friendship the two of you had shared in middle school was burned into her mind- movie nights in your basement, going trick-or-treating in matching costumes, splashing around in the Hawkins community pool. Life was simpler back then, brighter. But, time had changed you. High school had changed you.

She briefly thought back to what had happened at school earlier; what she heard in the band room- the words that spilled from your mouth. The grief washed over her again and she felt her stomach ache.

“Y-yeah,” Robin said hesitantly.

“Well, she invited us over for dinner tonight around five. You’re not busy, are you?”

“Oh, I don’t know if that’s a good idea.” Robin replied. “I don’t think they’d want me over there.”

“Don’t be silly! Linda adores you! She was just asking about you at the post office.”

“No it’s not her,” Robin huffs, rubbing her face.

“Oh, is it that daughter of theirs? What ever happened to you two anyways? You used to be so close.”

Robin couldn’t pinpoint when the two of you stopped being friends. It was probably an accumulation of things, she thought- your new, popular friends, differing schedules, simply growing apart. You fell into step with those girls at school and never looked back. All she really knew was that you didn’t have the same opinion of her that you used to, and that killed her.

“She does not want me there! I can promise you that.”

“Just come, sweetie. At least come to see Linda, she misses you.” Melissa says pleadingly.

Robin flops back down onto the couch and stares at the ceiling. The memory of today was still swimming in her head, shattering her spirit every time she thought of it for too long. Part of her did want to go- just to be in your orbit, your space. She was always curious about the person you were becoming, if you were truly turning into a cheerleading bimbo.

Not to mention, there was a mystery surrounding you that she was dying to indulge in.

This dinner would give her a reason to indulge.

“Sure, mom. I’ll go.”

The chicken and mashed potatoes on your plate sat untouched as you kept your gaze anywhere but Robin, who was sitting across from you at the dinner table. Your moms had been immersed in conversation ever since the Buckley’s showed up at your doorstep eighty five minutes ago. Your dads acted similarly, casually chatting in between bites of dinner.

When Robin first spotted you standing idly in the corner of the foyer as her family walked in, her heartbeat spiked. You looked so pretty in your denim skirt and white blouse. She felt her eyes drifting, trying to take as much of you in as she could: your manicured hands, dainty jewelry, glossy lips.

She hadn’t been in this foyer in years. Upon realizing this, she allowed her eyes to wander past you, to the walls of your home. They were painted a different, darker color. The family photo that hung just next to the staircase to the second floor was different. Instead, hung a picture of you beaming proudly in your cheer uniform.

And that’s when it hit her- again. The pain washed over her for the nth time that day.

How you sat there while your friends gossiped about her.

How you looked at her face without a hint of recognition sparkling in your eyes.

How you let her leave crestfallen, rushing to cry in a bathroom stall.

Suddenly, she started to feel sick.

When you first saw her walk into your foyer alongside her parents, your heart stopped. Part of you didn’t think she’d actually come, and you wouldn’t have blamed her if she didn’t. You and your friends had been awful to her. You watched silently as they made her into a caricature of sorts- someone to poke and prod at. Part of you felt guilty for letting them speak like that to your childhood friend. But then, you remembered that she wasn’t the same girl you used to know and love. She did it to herself. She was turning into a spectacle, an outlier. Nobody in their right mind would choose to associate with someone like that.

Suddenly, you started to feel sick.

Then you felt someone, your mother, nudging at your side. You look up at her and she’s motioning across the table.

“Melissa asked you a question, honey.” Your mom said kindly.

Your cheeks flushed, embarrassed. “Oh. Sorry, I was distracted.”

”Is everything alright, dear?” Melissa asks you.

Your mom wraps an arm around you, rubbing your right arm. “Oh, she’s just a little bummed because she had to reschedule her sleepover.”

“No, I’m okay. I’m fine!” You reassure Melissa, not wanting it to sound like she was intruding on your time.

“A sleepover? That sounds like fun, sorry you had a change of plans,” Melissa says. “Hey, I have an idea- why don’t you have a sleepover with Robin? That could be fun, give you two girls a chance to catch up.”

Robin chokes on her club soda from across the dining room table.

“Oh, I don’t kno-“ you start to say, before your mom cuts you off.

“That sounds like a great idea! This way you can still get your sleepover,” your Mom beams. “Oh, I miss when you girls would hang out.”

“Weren’t they cute, Linda? Always asking to have each other over?” Melissa asked your mom. You steal a glance over at Robin, and she’s already looking at you.

“We’ll clean up these plates. You two girls run upstairs! Sweetie, get Robin a pair of pajamas to sleep in.” Your mom nudges you again before disappearing into the kitchen with Melissa and your dads trailing behind her.

You give another look to Robin, who’s now staring down at where her plate once was, seething.

You sigh. “My uhm, my room’s upstairs.”

When Robin walks into your room, the first thing she thinks is that it looks completely different.

Your bed was decked out in frilly pink pillows and sheets; she could barely make out where you slept under all of the decorative pillows you had. The decorations and posters that littered your room were incredibly chic and feminine. Everything felt purposeful and neat. This was nothing like the animal-obsessed rugrat she knew as a kid.

You appeared from your closet holding out a pair of purple polka dotted pajamas. “You can wear these,” you say, politely offering them to her.

Robin looks from the pajamas back to you. “You don’t have to do this.”

“Do what?”

“Look, I’m not staying over. That’s ridiculous.” She looks at the alarm clock next to your bed. “It’s not too late, you can still have your real friends over.”

Your arms fall along with your face. “That’s not- I’m fine with you sleeping over.”

“Oh, really? I wouldn’t want to disgust you.” She says curtly. “Are you sure you don’t want me in a separate room? You know, for your safety?”

Your heart stutters.

“Oh,” you say dumbly, “You heard them?”

“Don’t play dumb. How could I not? They were pointing at me, laughing at me.” She pauses. “And you just sat there.”

Your eyes drop to your carpeted floor, ashamed.

“Look, I know we’re not exactly friends anymore. But, how could you let them talk about me like that? How could you talk about me like that?” Robin says with a hint of hurt in her voice.

“Well,” you say, “why were you looking at her in the first place?”

The minute the words leave your mouth you regret it. You watch as Robin’s face quickly fades from pained to angered.

“You can’t be fucking serious?”

“I don’t know! You made her uncomfortable.”

“I don’t even remember looking at her. I didn’t even know she was in my gym class.” Robin starts pacing around your room. “Do you really think they should have a separate locker room for me? Like I’m, what, some kind of fucking zoo animal?”

“I don’t know!” You say almost immediately. “They were just freaked out by the whole thing.”

She scoffs. “Do I freak you out?”

“Look, all I know is what Kristen said. That you were staring at her ti-“

“I don’t care about them!” She replies. “It’s you. You agreed with them. You laughed with them.”

“I was trying to comfort my friend! Okay? I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking.” Your face feels hot under her gaze.

“No. No, I know what you were thinking.” She huffs. “How could I ever have been friends with a freak like that?”

“You’re not a freak, Robin.”

“Well, I certainly felt like one! Fucking- crying in the bathroom,” she starts choking on her words, “I felt so pathetic. So disgusting. Dirty.”

The room stills. Downstairs, the sound of laughter fills the house. Glasses clinking. Friends embracing. Feet shuffling.

“Robin, honey! Me and your father are heading out!” Melissa calls from downstairs. Robin takes one last cold look at you and moves towards the door.

“I’m leaving with them,” she says to you.

In a panic to make things right, you reach out and wrap your hand around her wrist, spinning her around.

“Robin, please don’t go. Please don’t leave.” She looks down to where your hand is touching her skin. Neither of you move away.

“They have these- notions- about you, Robin. I don't know what to do with them.”

“Don’t you care about me? At all? Or are you so blinded by whatever lies they’ve been feeding you.”

“Robin, I was scared. I was scared of what they would say about me if I stood up for you. I know it’s stupid. I know I shouldn’t care, but I do. I can’t help it.”

“What could they say about you?” Robin says softly. “You’re perfect. You’re untouchable.”

You shake your head softly. “No, I’m not- there’s-“ You can’t bring yourself to say it.

Robin clocks it immediately- the way your body goes rigid, the way your breathing gets shallow.

“What? What is it? Would they call you a crazy lesbian just like me?” She says brazenly. “Does it really bother you that badly? What they might think of you?” Robin mutters.

Your eyes look up at her, glazed over with tears. Her wrist had gone limp in your hands, which makes you realize that you’re simply clinging onto her.

“It probably wouldn’t bother you unless you were actually disgusted by the idea of being one, or…” She freezes.

Your hand slides up her arm, resting gently on her bicep. You can’t even bring yourself to look at her face.

“It’s not right,” you mutter, “It’s not normal.”

“Don’t say that,” she says softly.

“They’re fucking right, Robin. It’s not normal. It doesn’t make any sense.”

“Forget about everyone else.” You can feel her breath on the side of your face, her eyes on you.

“I can’t. They’re my friends, Robin.”

“That doesn’t mean they know anything. That doesn’t mean they know what’s right for you.”

You sigh exasperated. “I don’t even know what’s right for me! But, it can’t be- it can’t be that.”

Your fingers comb harshly through the roots of your hair.

“Y-you make me feel confused,” you admit, “I have all these- bad ideas.”

“Tell me about them,” Robin pleads.

“No. No, I’m not going to end up like you.” You spit with venom.

“Jesus, what do you want? Fucking forget about your friends for one goddamn second! They’re morons!”

You huff. “You’re confusing me. You know what? Maybe you should go.”

“No way. That’s out of the question.”

“Just go! Leave!”

“You don’t want that.” Robin says softly.

“I do! You’re- you’re messing with my head.”

Her short hair tickles your cheekbone. Her scent overwhelms your senses. Her body heat warms your skin.

“You’re still touching me.” She mutters, looking at your hand still clutching onto her muscle. “If you were really that disgusted with me you wouldn’t be clinging onto me like I’m the only thing that makes any sense to you.”

“Stop it! You’re messing with my head.”

“Nobody’s putting those bad ideas in your head but you. It’s coming from you. Why can’t you see that?”

“I’m not a lesbian.” You state. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

The sound of your panting fills the room.

“I- can’t like girls.” You look down at her lips.

“What’s so wrong about it?”

“It’s not n-“

“-Normal, I get it.” Robin finishes. “Forget about everyone else for a second, please. It’s just me and you here. Nobody can see us.”

“ ‘s all so confusing.” You mutter hopelessly, wiping a stray tear from your eye. “What are they going to say about me? Think about me?”

“You can’t live your life for other people. Think about yourself for a minute. What do you want?”

“Just-“

With your hand still rooted onto her bicep, you slowly lean in, testing how the distance makes you feel. From here, you can see the freckles that litter her face and the stray eyelash that was resting on her cheekbone. Her breath warms your face.

It doesn’t feel as alarming as you had anticipated. Sure, your heart was pounding ruthlessly, but it was kind of intoxicating. There was a certain rush that came from being this close to a girl. You leaned in, chasing the feeling.

And in the privacy of your bedroom, you placed a chaste kiss on her lips.

Robin’s body freezes, but her eyes shutter close at the contact. So, you continue.

Parting your lips slightly, you lock them against hers, pressing gently against the soft skin of her lips.

Your stomach erupts in butterflies as she sighs softly against you. She starts moving her lips against yours- pulling, pressing- driving you crazy.

When you pull back from the kiss, you miss the way her lips chase yours for the contact. Your eyes open simultaneously. She scans your face for emotion, but can’t get a read on you. Meanwhile, you’re sorting through a million different emotions in your own head- contentment, lust, confusion.

“Was that okay?” You ask quietly. Robin takes a strand of your hair in her hand, twirling it gently. She hums in contentment.

“I just- wanted to try that.” You confess.

Her eyes narrow down on you. “Was that one of your bad ideas?”

You look back up at her before nodding slightly.

“And?” She asks. “Was that okay for you?”

You hold your face in your hands, hiding yourself from her. “I- liked it.”

“Wasn’t disgusting?” She taunts.

“Really fucking not.”

Robin smiles down at you before crouching down to grasp the purple polka dotted pajamas you must have dropped at some point. She wants to be cautious about her next step, not to push you away from whatever epiphany you were having right now. But, selfishly she asks, “Will you kiss me like that again if I sleepover?”

You tuck your bottom lip in between your teeth. “I might.”

“Then I-“ she says, “-I will go put these on. Okay?”

“Yeah,” you mutter. Robin nods curtly at you before turning around towards the door.

Meanwhile, you stare fondly at the back of her head as she disappears into the hallway.

—————

“I’ll come see you Monday night, okay? Will your parents be home?”

“They uhm, they get back on Tuesday morning so… no.”

“Okay, good. I’ll come see you then, say, around six?” he suggests.

“Okay,” you speak gently, watching as he takes small steps to your bedroom door. Before he exits, he turns to you.

“And Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“Please don’t have any ‘super cute dreams about your super cute boyfriend’.”

“Do you have any clean water?” You asked Rebecca in your shared Drawing and Painting class on Monday morning. “Mine’s all murky.”

Rebecca looked up from your economics homework, which she was copying furiously ahead of the class next period. She slid her untouched cup of water in front of you and returned to her notebook.

“Aren’t you gonna work on your project?” You asked as you twisted your watercolor brush in the fresh water.

“Oh, please. I can get that done in like two seconds. This however…” she trailed off, rubbing her face. “What does this say?” She pointed her pen at a scribbled word from your notebook.

“Deflation.” Rebecca nodded her head slightly as you dipped your brush into a bright yellow paint.

“So…” you said to her, ”Heather seems cool.”

Rebecca springs up. “Huh?”

“Heather,” you say, “from Friday night. She seems nice.”

“Oh… yeah” She grins then returns to her project. “It’s crazy, we just like- hit it off! She’s really cool.”

“Uh oh, you’re not looking for my replacement, are you?” You joke.

“Maybe I am.” She jokes back. You scoff and clutch your chest.

“Fine,” you flaunt, “then no homework.” You move to take your economics notebook out from under hers, but her hand comes up to clutch your wrist.

She giggles into you. “Oh, come on! I’m sorry. I’m sorry! You know you're irreplaceable.”

You give her a narrowed look, “That’s more like it.”

The notebook is dropped from your hands. Rebecca readjusts it slightly and resumes copying your answers. You sit like that for a couple of minutes, working silently next to each other.

“Hey, now that you’ve twisted my arm into being your friend again…” you joke, “can I ask you something? Something kind of weird?”

“Of course,” Rebecca says without looking up.

“It’s just that- I’ve been thinking a lot about relationships lately.”

“Relationships…” she presses.

“Relationships,” you echo, “ Y’know, I’ve never really been with a guy before. I’ve never had a boyfriend. But, you… you’ve had boyfriends. Jimmy, then before him was Mike, before him was Joe, and then before hi-”

”Alright! Alright, we get it.” She cuts you off.

“Right,” you state dumbly, “well my point is, you probably know more about relationships than I do. More about guys than I do.”

“I guess….” She concedes, “Was there a question attached to this?” You hum in agreement.

“Have you ever thought about, I don’t know, being with an older guy?” You ask quietly.

“I’m sorry, what? What was that?” She teases.

“Have you?”

Rebecca pauses her writing, thinking for a moment. “How… much older?”

“Honestly, I’m not really sure. Eight? Ten years?” Her eyebrows twitch. She sets down her pen and turns towards you.

“Babe, what are you saying to me? Have you met an older guy?” She questions, then gasps. “What about Ethan?”

“What about Ethan! We’re not even- he’s not even my, my anything!”

“Who is he?” Rebecca asks incredulously.

“Who?”

“The guy! Who is this older guy!” She grabs onto your shoulders and starts shaking you, as if the answers would fall out of you with the motion. “Is it that Henry guy who was tutoring you?”

“There is no guy! I was just- I don’t know, curious? It was hypothetical.” Rebecca gives you an unconvincing look, but drops your shoulders from her grasp. Her lips purse.

“I like Ethan for you,” she says earnestly, “he’s a nice guy.”

“He is! He’s a nice guy.” You reassure, and then move to fidget with your paint brush. Taking the brush out of the cup and hovering it over it, you watch as small drops of water fall from the bristles and create ripples in the water.

“Don’t you like him?”

“Of course! We’re supposed to go out this week.”

“Good.” Rebecca falls into silence besides you as she refocuses on her homework for the nth time.

Suddenly, you wished you were at home. You felt too sensitive to be out in public, as if everyone could see through you and your uncertain mind. The events of Friday evening with Henry had been driving you crazy. The kissing, the touching, the closeness- it made you feel something so special, so unique, that you couldn’t imagine ever feeling that way with another guy.

Your body turned warm at the mere memory of his hands on your bare skin, the look in his eyes when you drew your hips over his. Looking back at it now, it almost felt like a dream- a hazy blur of his lips on your skin and soft sounds spilling from his mouth.

Impulsively, you stuck two fingers into the cup of painting water and then drew them up to the side of your neck, just over your pulse point. You needed something to ground you, to pull you out of your heated trance. The cool water settled your mind and your flushed cheeks.

“What does this say?” Rebecca asked again from beside you.

“Volatility.”

—————

The rest of the day went by uneventfully. You saw Ethan a couple of times in between classes in the hallways, and you mustered up enough energy to give him a convincing flirty smile and wave. Every time you saw him, you felt yourself tense up at the idea of him following up about your date, but luckily for you time never allowed a conversation. Even in the calculus class the two of you shared in the morning your teacher had you working from bell-to-bell, leaving no time for him to turn around in class and talk to you.

For the first time in your life, you loved your calculus teacher.

You found Rebecca waiting by your car in the student parking lot after school. She was leaned against the hood of your car, searching through her backpack.

“Sorry, did we have something planned?” You ask once you arrive at your car. Unlocking the vehicle, you tuck your backpack into the backseat of the car and then return back to Rebecca.

She set her backpack down on the asphalt and then clutched her heart with her hand.

“How could you forget?” She says dramatically. “All that hairspray is messing with your brain.”

“Uh!” You gasp as you place one hand on the crown of your head. You take a lock of hair and smooth it down, twirling it in between your fingers. “No need to get nasty.” You muse. “Did we really have something planned?”

“Uhm, yes!” She says pointedly. “You said you wanted to go to the Strip Mall off Amber Street.”

“I did?”

Rebecca kicks her boot against the asphalt. “Okay, maybe I did.”

“You did?” You question her. “When did you ask?”

“Just now.” She smiles sweetly. “Will you please take me?” She brings her hands up in a prayer-like position and looks up at you.

“And what if I had plans? What were you gonna do, walk home? You already missed your bus.” You point out.

She looks at you smugly, shaking her head. “You don’t have plans.”

You sigh. “You need to get your license.”

Rebecca claps her hands in joy as she goes around the car to the passenger seat.

—————

Two hours later, the two of you emerged from the Strip Mall with a plethora of shopping bags and matching cups of Cherry Cokes. You weren’t planning on buying anything initially, but once you and Rebecca hit the first store you knew that that idea was fruitless. Now, you were out your allowance money, but had some new candles, trinkets, and earrings.

“Oo! The diner! Can we get something really quick? I’m starving.” Rebecca asked. You juggled the weight of your shopping bags to bring your watch up to your face.

4:01

Henry had said he wasn’t going to come over until six that night, so you relented.

“Fine, but it’s on you this time!”

“I’ve got you, baby” Rebecca flirted, throwing you a wink before she held the door open for you.

The two of you settled into a booth, scooched all of your shopping bags to the wall, and then opened your menus. Over the laminated plastic, you could see Rebecca’s eyes moving around wildly, seemingly following something behind you.

“You good?” You asked her.

“Mhm,” she sounded, “Y/N, keep looking at me.”

“What?”

“Y/N. Don’t. Turn. Around.” She grinned.

Your eyebrows knitted in confusion at your friend's tense state. And then, without another thought, you turned around and followed her eyes. You scanned the near empty diner for a few moments before you spotted him.

Ethan.

You whipped your head around so fast you could hear your earrings clang against your cheekbone. Sliding down in your seat, you held the menu over your head as if to hide yourself. The sound of your heart beating sounded in your ears.

“Oh God.” You muttered.

“I told you not to turn around! Please, don’t make us leave. My stomach feels like I’ve been to war.” She pleaded.

“We have to go.”

“No!” She said, “What’s the issue? You literally just said this morning that you liked him.”

“I do!” You pleaded. “He’s great. It’s just- it’s just when we’re at school I can deflect when he tries to talk to me. ‘I have to make up a test!’ ‘I’m going to be late for extra help!’. There’s no escape here.” You sank even lower.

“Why do you need to escape him?” Rebecca asked, fidgeting with the corner of her menu. “You were obsessed with him last week. Wait, don’t answer. I think we’re in his section.”

“What? He works here?”

“He’s coming over, sit up!”

You scramble up in your seat and smooth your hair down.

“Y/N! Rebecca! What’s up, girls?” Ethan says excitedly.

“Just some shopping,” Rebecca replies smoothly, “Ethan, I didn’t know you worked here!”

“What are you talking about? I waited on you and Jimmy, like, two weeks ago.” Ethan laughed.

Your eyes shot over to Rebecca, who was grinning smugly back at you.

‘You set me up’ you mouthed to her.

‘You’re welcome’ she mouthed back.

“Well anyways,” Ethan said, “Y/N, uhm, can I get you anything? Milkshake? Soda?”

For the first time since you and Rebecca walked into the diner, you allowed yourself to look at him- really look at him. He was wearing a white company polo, the words ‘Amber Street Diner’ embroidered in red on the right side of his chest. The polo was tucked into a pair of dark-wash jeans, and he was also wearing a waist apron.

Ethan’s face was slightly flushed, and you found yourself thinking that he looked cute like this. Not to mention, the way he spoke so tentatively to you was kind of endearing.

“A milkshake sounds good, maybe strawberry?” You told him. He wrote down your order in his little notebook and then turned to Rebecca.

“Anything for you?”

Rebecca dropped her menu down onto the table and then closed it abruptly, “Actually, I’m okay. I just remembered I’m going to dinner with my parents later. Don’t wanna spoil my appetite!”

You audibly gasp at her statement.

“What? You- you just said you feel like you’ve been to war! You’re really not getting anything?”

She shrugged lamely. “I forgot about later.”

“Okay, then I’ll be right back with your milkshake, baby.” Ethan turned back to the kitchen.

Rebecca started to wiggle her eyebrows from across you. “You’re his baby.” She said suggestively.

“You traitor! I can’t believe you brought me here when you knew he worked here!”

“Hey, I did no such thing. It was just a - happy coincidence, huh?” She said as she drained the last drops of Cherry Coke out of her plastic straw.

“Oh, please. Did you even want to go to the mall? Or was it just to get me here?”

“How dare you question my love for this mall! Rebecca joked.

“You-“

“Alright, ladies! I’ve got your milkshake right here.” Ethan announced as he slid the milkshake in front of you.

“Thanks, Ethan.”

“You’re welcome,” he replied, “it’s on me, so don’t worry about the check.”

“Oh, I can’t-“ you began to move the milkshake away from you.

“What? I can’t treat my girl to a milkshake? C’mon!” He replied. You giggle stiffly. “Actually, I was wondering, because I get off in like half an hour, if you would stick around? Maybe we could do something once I get off?”

You force a disappointed groan. “Ah, I would but,” you motion to Rebecca, “I have to drive her home. Y’know, for her dinner.” You glare at Rebecca.

Ethan’s shoulders deflate slightly. “Oh, yeah no tha-”

“Hey, no I can walk! I can walk home.” Rebecca interrupts. “It’s good for my knees.” She added meekly.

You raised an eyebrow at her. “With all those bags?”

“Yep.” She replied, popping the ‘p’.

“Oh, well that’s perfect! So, you’ll stick around?” Ethan turns back to you. Again, you look down at your watch.

4:28

That was cutting it kind of close. If he got off around five, could you make it back to your house before six to see Henry? Maybe not, but you felt bad that Ethan was still trying to be around you even though you’ve blown him off several times. You felt like you owed it to him.

“I’ll stick around.” You nod. He claps his hands together, smiling.

“Great! I’ll see you at five then!”

—————

Earnest laughter rang from the Amber Street Diner parking lot. You were tucked into the passenger seat of Ethan’s Ford Mustang, watching as he was doing an impression of his father when he found a pack of cigarettes in his room.

“No- I swear to God I’ve never seen him so pissed off! I thought he was gonna lunge at me.” Ethan laughed.

“Over cigarettes?” You asked incredulously.

“Over cigarettes.” He reaffirmed. “And the best part?”

You leaned in, displaying interest. “Hm?”

“I got them from him. I took ‘em from the glovebox of his car!” he shook his head. “Maybe he wasn’t so mad that I was smoking at fifteen, it was more that I took his smokes.”

“Oh, jeez” you shake your head, “you were only fifteen when you started?”

Ethan grimaced. “Too young?”

You sigh, “Try thirteen.”

Ethan’s eyebrows raised in shock. “You? Thirteen and smoking cigarettes?”

“It was my Aunt! She was absolutely sloshed at my family’s Easter party and she offered me one. What was I supposed to do? Disappoint her?” You giggle. Ethan looks at you with a mix of bewilderment and awe sparkling in his eyes. “I don’t really smoke though. Gives me a headache.”

Ethan stays silent for a moment, taking you in with his eyes. He almost couldn’t believe that you were sitting there, in his car. It felt like something he had been daydreaming of for weeks.

“You really are something else,” he says breathlessly. “I’m glad you were free tonight. I was starting to think you were gonna bail on me until I just gave up.”

Your eyebrows furrow at his comment, and you feel somewhat disappointed in yourself for the grief you’ve caused him.

“I’m sorry about that. I just-“ you pause, “Well, I don’t know.” He reaches over and grabs your hand in his.

“ ‘S alright. I’m just glad you’re here now.” He rubs his thumb along the top of your hand.

You can hear the faint hum of traffic on Amber Street from the cracked car windows. The scene is peaceful- the autumn air spilling into the car, tickling your neck; Ethan’s comfortable presence alongside you; the occasional pair of headlights illuminating your faces through the windshield.

Suddenly, a pair of headlights approaches the parked car, and they’re so bright you squint impulsively. The light triggers something inside of you, and their sheer brightness reminds you of the lights you occasionally see out your window at home.

You audibly gasp. Frantically, you check your watch for the 3rd time that evening.

7:47.

—————

The tires of your car screech loudly as you brake hard in your driveway. You had left Ethan without much explanation, instead running towards your car shouting a mix of “Sorry”’s and “I’ll see you later”’s.

When you get to the porch you scramble for your keys out of your school backpack. But, upon bringing them up to the keyhole you pause. You spot a note tucked into the rapper of your front door. With frantic hands, you take the note and unfold it.

I’ll come by another time… H

Sighing, you clutch the note to your chest and push open the front door dejectedly.

—————

After that Monday, you fell into a new routine. You’d kiss your parents, who had arrived that Tuesday morning as planned, goodbye before you left for school; you’d attend classes alongside Rebecca and sometimes Heather; you’d hang out with your friends after school; and then you’d eat dinner with your parents at night. Really, the only thing that was new about this routine was that you found yourself spending more time with Ethan.

On Tuesday, he had waved you, Rebecca, and even Heather over to sit with him and his friends at the popular table in the lunchroom.

He would come and find you during your study hall and distract you while you tried to study.

He invited you to his football games with the promise of free strawberry milkshakes afterwards.

One day, he even stayed after school for Art Club just so the two of you could hang out. He watched as you showed him your developing paintings and illustrations, then asked if you would draw him. And, you did.

Henry hadn’t come by your house like he said he would, although you assumed it was your fault. You hadn’t meant to stand him up on Monday night, you just got carried away and lost track of time.

There were reminders of him everywhere- the pink pajamas as you were doing your laundry, the philosophy textbook on your desk that he taught you out of, even the peppermint tea your mother brewed for you some mornings.

It was confusing, the way he didn’t reach out at all. You had thought that after what the two of you had shared, he would be eager to return to you like you were eager to return to him. He gave himself to you that night in a way that was unmistakably raw and true. If he really felt such devotion to you, then where was he? Why didn’t he let you explain before he left you isolated, with no real way of finding him? You had tried to find him in Room 138 one day, but found the office to be empty, as if no one was ever there.

These thoughts played subtly but constantly in the foreground of your mind- at your desk at school, while you were laying up in bed at night, even when you were sketching out your boyfriends dreamy hair at Art Club.

Three weeks after that night at the diner, you were sitting alongside Ethan and Rebecca at the lunch table, eating the cucumbers out of Ethan’s salad because he doesn’t like the texture. He was talking to one of his friends from football when he suddenly turned to you.

“Oh, I forgot to mention- Halloween’s this Saturday!” He said.

“I know Halloween’s this Saturday,” you reassure him, confused. He breaks out into a cheesy smile and kisses the top of your head.

“I know you know, baby. I’m talking about the party. Sam’s doing it this year.” He points to the curly-haired athlete he was just speaking with.

“I’m sorry- party?” Rebecca chirped in from beside you.

“Yeah, it’s at nine at Sam’s house.” He clarifies for Rebecca, then turns back to you. “You’ll come with me?”

You briefly turn back to Rebecca, who’s looking at you expectantly.

“Yeah, of course.” You take the last cucumber from his salad and pop it in your mouth.

“Awesome. So, what should our costume be?” He asks you.

“Uh, our…costume?”

He laughs. “What, you don’t want to do a couples costume with me?”

Rebecca shoves into you playfully from your side. “Oh, that’d be so cute!”

“Yeah, yeah, okay. What were you thinking?” You muse as you look up at your boyfriend.

—————

When Saturday night came around a mere few days later, you stared at yourself in the mirror in adoration as Cyndi Lauper played faintly from your record player. Your eyes were outlined in a smoky black eyeshadow and your lips were painted a dark red.

Due to the last-minute nature of your plans, you and Ethan agreed to go as a simple cat and dog. You tucked your cat ears into place for the nth time as you nervously waited for him to pick you up.

Sauntering into the kitchen, you grabbed a cup of water from the cabinet before filling it up with the tap. Your anxiety about tonight had made your mouth go dry, and your body gratefully accepted the cool drink. Then, a chill ran through your body, but you couldn’t distinguish if it was a symptom of your nerves or a result of your skimpy outfit.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

You set down the glass on the counter and smoothed your hair down once last time. Your heels clicked against the hardwood floor as you made your way to open the door for Ethan. But, as you approached the door, the silhouette you saw through the glass, although warped, was certainly not him.

Your heart stopped abruptly as you made out the pale skin and round glasses through the glass. You took a step back out of shock.

Knock. Knock.

Shaking your head, you took small steps towards the door and opened it gingerly.

His blue eyes are the first thing your eyes fall on. Then, you scan his face rapidly before trailing down to his frame.

You couldn’t get a read on his demeanor or expression. His posture indicated that he was relaxed, as if he was simply visiting a friend. However, the way his eyes darkened and his lips curled upwards upon seeing you, his visiting felt like something more sinister- like he was carrying a bitter resentment for not meeting with him like you said you would.

“Henry,” you state cautiously, “I- I didn’t know if I’d ever see you again.”

“Are you happy to see me, dear?” He asks testingly.

You nod your head furiously and then open the door a little wider.

“It didn’t seem that way the other night.”

“I’m sorry. Really, Henry, I lost track of time and when I got here-“

He cuts you off. “You were with him. And you're off to be with him right now.” His eyes drop down to your costume, glazing you over with a look of enticement and disapproval. He reaches out to grab the charm dangling from the collar on your neck, inadvertently bringing you closer to him. He twists the cool metal in his fingers a few times. Suddenly, he takes two fingers and digs them between the faux leather of your collar and the skin of your neck and pulls you even closer. You can feel his hot breath on your forehead and your pulse hammering against his fingers. “God, look at you.”

You still couldn’t decipher what he wanted from you. An apology? An explanation? A kiss? His words were laced with resentment and frustration, but his movements seemed to be charged with desire.

You thought of Ethan, your sweet boyfriend who would probably be here any minute. “I missed you, Henry. Why did you leave?”

“You didn’t miss me,” he scoffs.

“No, I did. I really did. I was thinking about you all the time.” You reply quickly, looking at his handsome face. He added another finger to the ones under your collar and curled them, tightening the band. Your hands flew up to his wrist, hoping to relieve some of the tension.

He remained silent, so you kept speaking. “That night was so good, Henry. How could I choose anything else?”

“Yeah, how could you?”

His words hung heavy in the air, an air of possessiveness to them. You were surprised and offended by the sheer arrogance of his tone. In one motion, you tugged his fingers out from your collar and scoffed at him.

You didn’t feel like you owed him that much. Of course, the physical intimacy and intellectual connection that the two of you had shared was enticing and important to you. But, when it came down to it, you had known him for less than a month. And, he abandoned you for the latter half of it. What made him believe that you had promised yourself to him?

“If you’re so angry with me then just leave. I don’t have anything to say to you. Not anymore.” You began to close the door, but his hand came up to stop it.

“Stop. Wait, I’m sorry.”

You scowl “How dare you criticize me? Maybe you should’ve never come back.”

“I thought you didn’t care about me! After you didn’t show I thought you regretted everything.” He urges. “I waited for you. I waited for you right here on this porch for hours. I felt like a fool.”

“You didn’t even let me explain before you abandoned me! It was an accident. I wanted to see you.”

“And now? Do you still want me?”

“I don’t know,” you reply honestly, “you’re so- you’re so different every time I see you.”

“What do you mean, Y/N?”

“Just now! You were polite, and then you were bitter, and then you were nice, and then you were defensive, and now you’re being nice again!”

“I’m sorry for getting angry with you. Truly. I didn’t mean it, dear.” He states. “I just- can’t control myself around you. I feel everything so intensely.”

“That’s not fair to me.” You reply softly.

“Just, tell me one thing,” Henry says abruptly.

“What?” You said venomously.

He took a deep breath and then looked into your eyes. “Did you feel it? At all?”

Your eyebrows sank. “Feel what?”

“The- the connection,” he said meekly, “the likeness.”

Every fiery impulse in your body softened at his quiet tone, but your mind started to spin at the change of pace. His emotions seemed to flex and quirk in odd ways. He was so good at pulling you back into him, whether it was through heated accusations or shy confessions.

He continues. “Because, I did. I felt it. And I don’t- I’m not usually someone who does.”

Dropping his hand from the door, he takes a small step towards you. His expression had contorted into one of hopefulness, of sincerity. The display of emotions softened you again as he transformed into the warm man you first met weeks ago.

“I felt it.” You offered quickly and watched as his face relaxed. “I felt it, but it doesn’t matter anymore.”

He was stunned into silence, so you continued. “You left me without a word for over three weeks. And now, now you’re just shaming me for accepting it and trying to live my life.” A beat. “And- and I have Ethan now. Things are different.”

“You can’t be serious about him.” He says incredulously, shaking his head.

“He was there for me when you left. He cares about me.”

“Do you care about him?” He questions. “Can you honestly tell me that you care about him?”

Your teeth grit. “He’s my boyfriend.”

“That doesn’t mean you care about him. That’s just a label.”

“Okay, well you’re just my tutor! That’s your label.”

A pair of headlights appear on your block, signaling Ethan’s arrival. You look back to Henry, who’s looking down at the ground with a mix of disbelief and hurt in his eyes.

“Go, Henry.” You tell him.

“You can’t-”

“Go.” You repeat more firmly.

—————

“Come on, Jonathan! Mom said we can’t leave without you!” 15-year old Will Byers calls out from the foyer of his California home. He’s pacing around the house collecting towels, sunblock, and cash in preparation for his day trip to the Lenora Hills community pool.

Upstairs, Jonathan is sprawled out on his unmade bed- staring at the ceiling through a cloud of smoke. He blinks once, slowly. The sound of his name being called from downstairs has him groaning internally. Under any other circumstance, Jonathan would have loved to spend time with his younger brother. But, his new friend Argyle had given him an ounce of weed earlier that morning for getting him a copy of ‘Three Imaginary Boys’ from a local record store, and Jonathan was impatient.

Now, he’s lost in his own head, his thoughts swimming out of his mind with the smoke that leaves his mouth.

“Jonathan! Take your brother to the pool! Let’s go, what are you doing in there?” Joyce’s voice sounds from somewhere distant.

Jonathan had tried to reason with his mother earlier- that Will was old enough to walk the 0.7 miles to the pool, that everything awful was left behind in Hawkins.

‘You know I’d go myself, but I’m tied up here. I’ve got calls all through lunch!’ Joyce said with a huff when Jonathan had complained about his role of babysitter. ‘All this stuff is new, Jonathan. I just don’t want him getting lost or hurt or anything.’

He sympathized with his mother’s paranoia and constant anxiety surrounding her younger son, but he was at his wits end. Everyday it was ‘Will needs this!’ and ‘Can you take Will here?’ And because Jonathan was who he was, he usually complied.

With a heavy sigh, Jonathan sat upright in his bed and pulled a pair of swim trunks on.

—————

The Lenora Hills public pool is cramped, loud, and smells faintly of weed- although Jonathan can’t tell if that last part is just his own scent wafting back to him. He trails Will as he hurriedly walks through crowds of families in search of empty beach chairs, his eyes falling on the frames of bikini-clad girls and their showboat boyfriends. He’s surprised by the sheer amount of people already at the pool at 9AM on a random Tuesday in August.

Meanwhile, the California sun is relentless. The heat comes in waves, each one more brutal than the one preceding it. By the time the two boys find a place to set up, a thin layer of sweat had pooled around their faces.

“Jesus Christ, it’s like a million degrees out here,” Jonathan groans.

Will looks up from setting his towel down on the chair. “Don’t be dramatic, the sun’s barely out,” Will retorts. “If you’re that hot just go get a soda or something. Or better yet, just go in the pool. That’s why we came.”

Jonathan takes one look at the pool and he knows the suggestion is fruitless. He sees hoards of little kids submerged in the pool, splashing each other fiercely and spitting out pool water in each others faces like it’s a weapon. Nope!

“Hey, if you’re getting a soda get me one,” Will says as he sits down on the chair.

“Yeah, okay.” Jonathan sighs noncommittally, but is already heading towards the concession booth at the far side of the pool.

The line is absolutely atrocious, which only adds to Jonathan’s disdain for being there. When he finally gets to the front of the line he’s about ready to rip into whatever poor worker was working the booth, until his eyes fall on your pretty face.

“Hey, what can I get you?” you ask Jonathan sweetly.

Your hair was pulled into two braids that fell just past your collarbone, tied off by small red bows. The shade of red was a perfect match to the bathing suit uniform you are donning, hugging your frame.

Jonathan runs his tongue over the inside of his mouth as he mindlessly ogles you. He’s still slightly buzzed from his morning weed.

“Hello?” you ask again, eyeing the growing line behind him.

Suddenly, Jonathan feels someone collide into his side- Will.

“You’ve been on line for like 20 minutes! What’s taking so long?” Will turns to you. “Just one Coke, please.”

“Sure,” you say to him. But, before you turn around to fetch the soda from the cooler you pause. “Do I- do I know you? Will?”

Jonathan looks over at Will, who considers you for a moment. Then, his eyes light up in realization.

“Right! Sorry, hey!” Will smiles. “What are you doing here? How’s Milo?”

Another worker pops up from behind you and begins taking customers at a neighboring register.

“Good, good- he pretty much hasn’t left my bed since last week. I hated leaving him this morning.” You pout.

This startles Jonathan. He already doesn’t know what the hell is going on or how you seem to know Will. He slightly deflates at your mention of some boy who’s been in your bed.

“ ‘m sorry- what’s going on?” Jonathan manages to get out.

“She lives a couple houses down from us. We met when I found her dog, Milo, last week outside our house.” Will answers.

“Yeah, he got out when I was bringing in some groceries for my dad. Thank you, again! He’s such a fast runner and I couldn’t keep up in my slippers.”

“Oh my God, that’s right.” Will laughs at the memory. Your cheeks flush, embarrassed.

“Hey! I was getting ready for bed, okay? I don’t usually leave the house in fuzzy purple pajamas.” You giggle. “But, thanks for catching him before he got too far out. Talk about perfect timing.”

“Yeah, yeah of course,” Will then turns to Jonathan. “Don’t you remember? You were just getting home from somewhere when I found him.”

Jonathan blinks. If he was getting back from someplace he didn’t tell Will, he was probably just off somewhere getting high. And if that was the case it would make sense why he didn’t remember the dog, or even the cute girl in tiny pajamas.

“Right, yeah,” Jonathan replied coolly. “I’m Jonathan, by the way.” He goes to shake your hand and cringes inwardly as he watches it happen. But, you giggle at his formality and meet your hand with his.

“It’s nice to meet you, Jonathan.” You tell him your name and then turn to fetch the Coke from the cooler behind you. Jonathan takes the opportunity to let his eyes wander your body freely. When you bend over the cooler to retrieve the soda, jutting your hips out, Jonathan’s eyes narrow.

“It’s on me, Will,” you say as you slide the aluminum can over the counter. “And here,” you say, placing another can on the counter, “you look like you could use something sweet.”

Jonathan’s heart stutters at your remark. He takes the can from you, your fingers touching briefly at the exchange. The contact makes his head spin. He looks up at you, and you have your bottom lip pulled in between your teeth in a cute smile.

“Hmph, tha-thanks.” Jonathan says dumbly.

The two brothers turn back to the pool and start walking. Jonathan can barely open the soda tab with the way his fingers are shaking around the aluminum can.

—————

Five days later, Jonathan all but jumps up in bed when Will suggests going down to the pool for the day, this time with Jane. The memory of your small smile and sun-kissed skin had been playing in his head like a film reel nonstop since Tuesday. He had spotted you a couple of times since then, but had kept to himself. He watched wistfully from his window as you passed his house while walking Milo. He found himself going to collect the mail every morning at seven, which was when you drove down the block on your way to the pool. He looked out for you whenever he was running errands for Joyce, and even spotted you once with two other girls at a local strip mall, sipping smoothies and laughing over a magazine.

The girls his age he had seen in California were pretty, obviously, but none of them had caught his eye like you had. You were different from the girls he had seen lounging around the Lenora pool in neon bathing suits or the ones standing in clusters around the Starcourt mall back in Hawkins. You were beautiful in a way that wasn’t flashy or obnoxious, but in a way that crept into his brain and made his heart race. Everything about you seemed gentle and sweet, from the bows in your hair to the hint of honey in your voice. He knew it was probably stupid- that you were just being polite to the older brother of the guy who saved your dog- but he couldn’t help but feel a little special under your gaze.

When the three of them arrive at the pool that Sunday, Jonathan sets down his things and then springs up.

“Anybody want a drink or anything?” He offers to Will and Jane.

“We have.” Jane states and points to the small pack of sodas you had all brought from home.

“Yeah, I’m just,” he stalls, “I’m just not feeling like a Coke right now.” He runs his fingers through his hair, sweeping it off his face to cool down. “I’m gonna go get an iced tea or something.”

The line isn’t as bad as it was the other day. When he gets to second in line, he panics slightly. What was he even going to say? ‘Hey, you probably don’t remember me but I’ve been thinking about you for days and want to take you on a date’?’ He doesn’t have time to question it because he hears a faint ‘Next!’ called from the booth and walks up to the counter. Only, it’s not you on the other side.

“What can I get you, boy?” an older woman inquires from the booth. Jonathan goes rigid.

“Iced tea?” Jonathan stammers. The lady sighs.

“What kind?” the woman states. After a moment, “What kind of iced tea!”

“Uhm- I don’t,” he pauses. The lady pulls out a bottle of peach iced tea from the same cooler you had been cutely bent over two days prior and slams it on to the counter.

“$2.”

The first sip of peach iced tea sits sourly on his tongue. Jonathan’s sulking back to where he had left Will and Jane when he hears the patter of flip flops behind him.

“Jonathan!” He turns around to meet the familiar honeyed voice, breaking into a grin.

“Oh, hey!” He replies, almost too excitedly. “What are you, uhm, what are you doing here?” He scratches the back of his neck.

You giggle and he finds himself leaning towards you. “I work here.”

“Oh- duh,” he says dumbly. Not wanting the conversation to end, he rakes his fried brain for words. “So, so what’s up?”

You inadvertently take a step towards him as you move out of the way of two running boys, and Jonathan can hear his heart pounding.

“Mm, not too much. It’s been crazy busy at the pool. Oh, and Milo’s doing great back at home. He hasn’t tried to escape once, not even when I was getting some shopping bags out of my trunk the other day. Your brother’s a real lifesaver,” you say earnestly.

“That’s good.”

Jonathan hates himself for his lame response. He’s about to give up and excuse himself when he hears you speak once more.

“Hey, uhm, this might be kind of awkward, but, can I ask you something? I didn’t really want to ask you the other day in front of Will.”

Jonathan’s mind runs through every single possible question you could have for him instantaneously. “Yeah- what’s up?”

“It’s just- okay,” you huff, “where do you, uhm, get your…. y’know.”

Jonathan blinks. “My uhm- my what?”

“Come on don’t make me say it,” you mutter, “I can smell it on you.”

Oh!

Jonathan makes a sound he almost doesn’t recognize as it leaves his mouth. “Are you serious?” he asks, and you deflate slightly at his slightly aggressive tone.

“Y’know what,” you brush him off, “it’s okay. Forget it. I’m sorry. Forget I even asked.” You go to turn away from him.

“No!” Jonathan calls out from beside you. “No, it’s okay! I was just- surprised, that’s all.” He clears his throat. “I uhm- I have a friend who’s super into it. He just gives me some sometimes. Can you really smell it on me?” He pulls his white tee shirt up to his nose and grimaces.

Yep.

“I’m not judging! I just- my old dealer got caught up in some things and he had to stop. I’m looking for a new one.”

Hearing you talk about drugs jolts Jonathan’s brain a little. For the last two days he had been obsessing over the cute girl he met at the concession stand. The girl with the bows in her pigtail braids. The one who smiled at him sweetly and gave him a free soda. At your admission, Jonathan was realizing that maybe he didn’t know everything about you based on the 2-minute interaction you had the other day and the glimpses he caught of you around Lenora. Maybe you aren’t so innocent, and he kind of likes it.

“I can get you some,” Jonathan offers.

“Yeah?” you smile up at him, squinting slightly in the sun as loose strands from your pigtail braids flutter around you in the breeze.

“Yeah, I mean I don’t have any with me, but I’ve got some at home you could have.”

“Where’s home?”

“It’s uhm- like a 15 minute walk. Less than a mile out from here.”

You think to yourself for a second, working through the logistics. At your silence, Jonathan speaks again.

“You can have it for free.”

He doesn’t know why he says it. The stuff that Argyle had brought him the previous night was good- really good. So good that Jonathan wanted to be selfish with it, but couldn’t at the thought of the two of you smoking it together, or at the very least, of seeing you again.

“Free?” you ask incredulously. “What’s the catch?”

“No catch! I can bring it to you here when the pool closes, when you get off.”

“You’d hand-deliver me free weed after my shift?” Again, you giggle and Jonathan can’t help but smile to himself.

“Yeah, why not?” He says shyly. Your eyes scan his face and his breathing hitches.

“Why, though?”

“It’s not a big deal, it’s-“ he pauses, “I don’t know, you caught me in a generous mood.” He shifts his weight from one leg to the other. You pull your bottom lip in between your teeth and smile. The lip gloss coating your lips sparkles under the sun, and Jonathan’s eyes immediately catch it.

“I have to stay an hour past close for inventory. So, it’d be more like nine, nine thirty the latest.”

“That sounds perfect!” He says looking up from your lips. “Perfect.”

Then, a voice breaks into your conversation- the older lady from the counter signaling you for the end of your break.

“Ugh, I have to get back. But, I’ll see you later, right? Nine thirty-ish?” You say as your footsteps are already retreating.

Jonathan nods once, twice. “I’ll be here.”

—————

The tightly packed blunt feels heavy in the pocket of Jonathan’s denim jacket, especially when he passes by a police car parked outside the recreational center on his way to the pool. On his walk there, he lets his imagination run wild with different scenarios of how the evening would go.

A) You thank him for the free weed and wish him goodnight

B) You offer to share with him and you spend a hazy, comfortable evening together until he politely offers to walk you home

C) This was all a sting operation and he spends the night in jail.

Jonathan approaches the gate of the pool to find it locked. He cups his hands and looks through the bars, scanning the deserted scene until his eyes fall on you. You are still wearing the same outfit from earlier in the day, only now you wore a pair of denim cutoff shorts on top of your bathing suit uniform. Jonathan can hear the faint clatter of clipboards being stacked away behind the counter, which he assumes signals the end of your task.

After another couple of minutes, you walk through the gate. You're juggling your purse, a plastic water bottle, and a set of keys as you slide a black zip-up hoodie on to your arms.

Jonathan calls out your name upon seeing you and you immediately straighten up, then slouch back down to a more relaxed posture.

“Y’know, part of me didn’t think you’d actually show,” you state casually, “I’m glad to see you, though.”

“You didn’t think I’d come?” Jonathan asks.

“It didn’t have anything to do with you, it was just-“ your eyes narrow down on his, “seemed too good to be true.” You tuck the keys into your purse after locking the gate.

“Too good to be true” he echoes to himself.

“So…. do you have it?”

He pats the right pocket of his jacket and you grin.

“Cool.” You pull the ribbon bows out of your hair, allowing it to fall out in a now textured pattern. You fluff your hair out a couple of times with your fingers before placing the ribbons in the front pocket of your purse.

Jonathan watches your movements transfixed. You looked way too comfortable for someone who was about to share weed with a guy she met briefly 2 days ago, but he finds himself relaxing into your composure. Jonathan wouldn’t call himself a particularly social person, but there was something about your friendly smile that made him less self conscious about wasting your time or energy.

You start walking further out of the recreation complex and down the road. Jonathan falls into easy steps next to you, trusting your unspoken plan.

“So…Will told me you guys are new to California?”

“Mhm yeah, we uhm- we’re originally from Indiana but my mom thought we could use a change of pace. A fresh start.”

You hop up onto the raised platform on the perimeter of the sidewalk, using it as a sort of balancing beam. Carefully, you place one foot in front of the other, swaying gently at the stance. At your lack of response, Jonathan finds himself rambling on to fill the void.

“California’s great, though. It’s been nice for the past- what, 2 months we’ve been here? Things were kind of rough for us back home. Especially for, uh Will.”

“Oh no, why?” you ask, turning to face him, your steps staggering. He pauses for a second, contemplating. He doesn’t want to lie to you, but he obviously can’t tell you what really happened in Hawkins.

“Bullies. The kids in his middle school were really rough on him. Name calling, threatening him, all that stuff.” He hears you make a sound from beside him, something caught between a huff and a groan.

“That sucks,” you state, “middle school sucked for me too.”

Jonathan frowns. “Oh?”

“I kind of grew up around kids like that- they were my friends. They would pull stuff like that on the other kids, and when I confronted them about it one day- they ditched me. After that I was kind of a loser.”

“You? A loser? Come on, I doubt that.”

You shake your head as the memories resurface. “No really! Never went trick or treating again, never went to another kids birthday party again, no boyfriends, no parties- never did any of that. And it’s not even like those girls were mean to me after what happened, they just… ignored me completely. Which, was almost worse.”

The two of you pass by his home on your aimless walk and Jonathan cringes. If Joyce was done with her calls and peaked through the window he would never hear the end of it. ‘Jonathan, who was that girl you were walking with? She looked pretty, when do we get to meet her?’ He wants to keep you to himself, which might be unsolicited and unreasonable, but he doesn’t care.

“This one's me.” You point out a fair-sized brown home that was four past his. Jonathan almost finds himself saying ‘I know’, but bites it down because he figures it would sound weird.

“Is that where you’re taking me?” He asks instead.

“God no. My parents would kill us.”

“So…” he says, eyeing you, “… where are we going?”

“It’s not far now,” you answer vaguely, “so, did middle school suck for you too?”

He chuckles. “What gave it away?” You smile to yourself. “Oh God, yeah. Middle school was rough, but I think high school takes it for me.”

He shakes his hair away from his forehead. Picking through his brain, he can’t decide which horror story to tell first.

“For Christmas in 10th grade, my homeroom teacher wanted to arrange a small Secret Santa game for our class.”

“Okay…” you prod.

“The day before the break we had to exchange our gifts. And the person who pulled my name didn’t get me anything.”

You groan. “Oh, what? They didn’t like you or something?”

“She said she didn’t know who I was!” he says incredulously. Your head tilts back in laughter.

“Meanwhile, I had to get a gift for this girl's boyfriend. I found it still wrapped in the trash bin after class.” He laughs to himself, but stops once he hears your laughter cease.

“…what?” you say meekly as you stop walking. “Oh no, that’s awful.”

“God, I hated that guy,” Jonathan huffs, “... .still do.” You both resume walking.

“Does this evil tenth grader have a name?”

“Steve.”

“Steve…” you say, testing the name on your tongue.

“He had everyone at school eating out of his palm. Classic spoiled douchebag.”

“I had a Steve-type at my school, too.”

“Oh yeah? Were you crazy about him too? All the girls in Hawkins were obsessed with him.”

“I…” you trail off, then perk up. “Hey, we’re here!”

As Jonathan took the steps up to the porch of the abandoned house he thought of two things- how much his legs were aching due to the long walk, and how nice your hips looked swaying above him as you walked up the stairs.

“What is this place?” Jonathan asks from behind you, glancing around.

“You haven’t been here before?” You ask, looking back at him.

“Can’t say I have.”

“Hm, this is like the place to smoke, or honestly, just to hang out at night. You see over there?” You ask as you point to the horizon in the distance. “When you come here during sunset you can see the sun light up the mountains in orange before this whole place goes dark. We got here a little late, but it’s okay, you can still see the moon.” You turn on your heel and creak open the door of the old home.

”Are we allowed to be in here?” Jonathan asks hesitantly.

“It’s fine, really.” You continue walking before turning back to him. “What, you’re fine doing drugs with strangers but draw the line at trespassing?” You giggle.

Jonathan feels his ears go pink. He wants to impress you. You are the prettiest girl he has ever seen, and you were still talking to him despite his pathetic background and bad habits. So, he follows you into the home and up the stairs.

Finally, after 35 minutes of waiting and walking, the two of you were perched on the windowsill of a bedroom upstairs. Jonathan removes the carefully packed blunt from his jacket pocket and holds it between his pointer and middle fingers, catching one side in a strong, orange flame.

“Did you want the first hit?” He asks you politely.

“Nah, you first. I need to make sure you didn’t lace it with some shit.” You joke. Jonathan grins at your joke and shakes his head. He wraps his lips around the blunt and inhales deeply, immediately feeling the smoke fill up his lungs and cloud his senses.

“Good?” You ask him. Jonathan exhales slowly and you watch the smoke leave his mouth, swirling in a cloud between the two of you.

“Good.” He affirms, as he passes the blunt to you.

You sit like that for a couple of minutes- the blunt being passed between the two of you wordlessly. The smoke billows out from your mouth out the window, disappearing into the night sky. Meanwhile, Jonathan realizes how fucked he is. He was already hyper aware of every breath you took, every movement of your body, and the way you perfume mixed nicely with the subtle traces of sunscreen you sprayed yourself with earlier. But now, the THC in his system supercharged his senses and softened his inhibitions. With every puff of smoke that leaves your mouth, he finds himself following it subtly with his own in hopes of capturing just a fraction of your essence on his tongue.

When it’s his turn to take a hit, his lips slightly quiver as they wrap around the paper yours just were. He juts his tongue out, only slightly, catching a hint of vanilla lipgloss and spearmint gum.

Finally, you speak.

Or really, softly moan at the way the weed has taken over your senses in a delightful frenzy.

“ ‘S so good.” You say hazily as you slide off your flip flops and crane your neck further out the window. Jonathan watches as your hair whips wildly around you and tickles your features. At the sensation, you let out a breathless laugh and chase the wind with your head, leaning further out the window. The breeze feels amazing against your neck.

As you move a hand up to pull loose strands of hair out of the stickiness of your lip gloss, you stumble slightly, your discoordinated mind not clocking the shift in weight or gravity.

“Oops!” You laugh. You resume your position at the window, subconsciously leaning back. When you feel yourself leaning too far out of the windowsill, you impulsively reach out and grab a fistful of Jonathan’s tee shirt as your legs slightly flail from beneath you. Jonathan drops the blunt on the ground and immediately brings his arms up, pulling you forcibly back into the house. When your bare feet hit the ground you look up at him, the way his eyebrows are knitting together in concentration and slight panic. Catching your breath a little, you remove your hand from his shirt, smoothing it down afterwards. You bring your right hand up to his face, pressing and massaging gently where the crease forms above his eyes. He leans in to the touch, humming softly. Then, he laughs gently.

“Please don’t fall out the window,” Jonathan huffs dazedly, “Too nice.”

“Too nice?” You repeat jokingly. He opens his eyes and looks down at you.

“You’re too nice to fall out of the window,” he clarifies, “so nice.” You laugh gently to fill the silence, but his expression remains solid. He looks handsome like this- eyes low and narrow, lips slightly puffy, and a cute blush in his cheeks. You just want to kiss all over his tired face, but you settle for moving your hand from his eyebrow to his cheek. You can feel the heat radiating off of his body and the warmth shoots through your body.

“You are so nice.” He repeats again and he places his hand on top of the one you have on his face. You lick your top lip out of habit, and he catches it. His eyes follow your tongue, then they settle back onto your eyes.

“You’re so nice,” you retort as you inch your face closer to his. You look down at the closing space between your bodies and Jonathan’s heart thumps at the pretty faint sparkles covering your eyelids. “Can I kiss you?”

Your eyes shoot back to his and find the most delicious look in them. The serious look that once overtook his features had dissipated and was replaced by something warmer, almost needier. Moonlight highlighted the left side of his face, making him look all the more enchanting.

You threw your arms around his neck and captured him in a bruising kiss. The two of you stumbled backwards, lips locked, until your hips were nudged against the windowsill again. He placed one of hands on your waist and spun the two of you around until it was his back facing the window.

“Can’t have you falling out, can we?” He mutters against your lips before kissing you again. You hum in response. His tongue swipes against your bottom lip, lapping up the sweet taste of vanilla from your lip gloss.

When he eventually pulls away, you immediately mourn the loss of contact. He pants against your face and wraps his hands tighter around your waist. Your eyes flutter gently, feeling more weighted with every passing moment.

“Tired?” He asks, his eyes flicking between yours.

“ ‘s the weed,” you say quietly, “Sorry.”

”No! No, don’t be sorry, I’m-“ he quickly says, “I’m sorry, it was my weed.” You press your forehead to his chest and shut your eyes for a moment.

“I really like you, Jonathan.” He’s glad you can’t see his face at your remark, because he’s sure you’d be put off by his ridiculously wide smile and crinkling eyes.

“I- I really like you, too.” He stutters out as he moves his hand to cradle your head against his chest.