Tired, Stressed, And Fandom Obsessed

The library was always particularly more busy during this time of year with people cramming for their final tests and exams. At the beginning of the year, you could sit in any seat you wanted, empty desks spanning over the entire floor. But now, you had to drag Steve in extra early just to find a spot. 

“It’s literally Saturday, why the hell are we going to the library? We should be going to the lake, spending the weekend as God intended, doing absolutely nothing.” Steve asked dramatically, the tips of his fingers resting on the edge of his wheel as his other is resting out of the open window beside him, gesturing toward the sun blazing down on you. 

“We can go to the lake after we study, Steve. You have that big test on Monday, this is important.” Your voice was gentle as you spoke to him, leaning your head back against the headrest to look over at him. 

He grumbled gently, knowing that you were right but not wanting to admit it. Steve’s grades had been slipping the last few months, so your stellar report card was more than enough for him to accept some extra help from you. 

You were surprised at first, how Steve was actually listening to you and learning. You’d even set him a few pieces of homework, just some books to read but you thought it would be good for him to expand his current literacy readings. 

To your surprise, the library was almost full at ten o’clock on a Saturday morning. You thought you’d been smart, lugging Steve out of bed at what he noted ‘the crack of dawn’, but apparently so had everyone else. 

“Hm, no space. Guess we can go to the lake.” Steve huffed from behind you as he peered around the filled up desks and chairs, grabbing onto your arm to drag you back out to his car. 

You rolled your eyes, tutting loudly as you shrugged from his grip and began walking through the rows of desks anyway. You didn’t need to tell Steve to follow you, because you knew that he would. 

And he did. His dramatically loud huffs and puffs as he trudged behind you through the desks and into the tall rows of the books. You’d ridden this rodeo before, this wasn’t the first time you’d had to find a spot in the library that wasn’t at a desk. 

There was a small corner nestled in the books that was always unoccupied, and it was far away enough from the rest of the student body that Steve could ask his stupid questions and not get you both shushed and shunned out of the library – which is probably something he was hoping would happen. 

After a couple minutes of Steve complaining about having to sit on the floor, the two of you got comfortable. You sat with your backs against the rows of books, your knees pulled to your chest so you could rest the book you were reading from against them. 

Steve sat close next to you, his legs laid out flat beneath him so he could rest his paper on his lap to write down his notes. With each new line he’d write, his elbow would gently brush against your arm. You’d have to pretend not to notice, swallow down the butterflies trying to escape from your stomach and escape past your lips. 

A small smile would grow on your lips with each groan from Steve after each question you’d ask him, his head knocking back against the books. 

He let out a small sigh, dropping the pen onto the paper and looking down at you with a pleading look. “My eyes are vibrating, Worm. Can we take a break?”

Your nickname, Worm, came about in the spring of 1980. It was late March, and you and Steve would spend most of your weekends exploring the miles and miles of trees and woodlands spanning behind his house. 

The two of you had been exploring through the damp soil for hours, challenging each other on who could climb the highest trees and who could skip a rock the furthest in any shallow water that you’d come across. 

After a particularly long half an hour of chasing each other through the trees, you decided to take a seat on a fallen log in an attempt to catch your breath. 

You leant back on your palms, chest heaving as Steve settled beside you. Your legs swung beneath you slightly, laughter bubbling from your chests between the two of you as you argued about who won that race. 

“I’m just saying, Steve, if you cut out a whole chunk of the course, that’s grounds for disqualification.” You teased, laughing a little harder when Steve glared over at you. He had always been competitive, and even your inkling of suggesting that he’d cheat would always rile him up, which you always enjoyed watching.

“Disq– What?! Absolutely not. Not my fault you’re a slow runner.” A small smirk tugged on his lip as he returned your teasing, his eyes widening at your offended gasp as you sat yourself up, lifting your hand to his arm to hit him. 

“I am not! Take that back!” You demanded, your eyebrows furrowing as your feet planted on the ground, ready to take off any second to prove your speed to him. 

Just as Steve opened his mouth to respond, you felt something crawling on your leg. A slimy, wriggly sensation that you’d never felt before. Hesitantly, you looked down to your legs and were met with a worm happily sliding across your thigh, the pink ridges covered in dirt as it freely travelled across your skin. 

A sharp gasp escaped your lips, followed by an earth shattering, ear piercingly loud scream. Your body was stiff, your upper half leaning backward in an attempt to get as far away from the creature as you could. 

“St– Steve, get it off! It’s hurting me! STEVE!” You screamed, shaking the leg that the worm had claimed. Steve huffed out a tight laugh through his nose, with a small shake of his head. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” He leant forward with ease, his fingers gently pinching the wriggling being and removing it from you. He cupped his hand beneath it, offering you a half smile with a gentle voice. “He won’t hurt you, he’s probably just lost.” 

Steve lifted from next to you, making sure to walk a few metres away before returning the worm back into the soil. He wiped his hands on his shorts before walking back over to you, his hands sitting on his hips as he spoke. “Are you okay?” 

A hint of embarrassment bubbled up inside of you. You’d just screamed your head off at a harmless creature crawling over you, and Steve had removed it like it was the simplest thing in the world. You couldn’t help but feel protected, he’d helped you with no hesitation. 

“Yeah. Just don’t like creepy crawlies.” You huffed as you stood from the log, shaking your thoughts out of your mind. You wandered past him, following on your journey when he chased behind you to catch up. 

“It’s okay, to be scared of them,” His voice was gentle as he spoke, and you could feel his eyes watching you as your own stayed glued to your feet, watching as you kicked the dirt out of your path. “I don’t mind bugs, but – I hate the dark.” 

Your neck spun to look up at him as he was slightly taller than you now, your brow inching upward at his confession. “You’re scared of the dark?” 

A part of you didn’t believe him. Like it was just a random fact that he was making up to make you feel better about your own fear, like everybody had them and it was normal. And safe to say, it worked. 

A small snicker left your lips, shaking your head as the pep in your step seemingly returned. Your legs skipping gently now as you bellowed out a playful laugh at the expense of Steve. “Can’t believe you’re scared of the dark.” 

“Hey, I told you that in confidence.” Steve joined in your laughter gently. He gathered that you knew of his fib, but Steve would do anything to make you feel better. He’d have eaten the worm if it meant you’d smile at him, even for a second. 

The two of you made your way home, knowing the journey on the dirt roads backing onto Steve’s house like the backs of your hands. Mrs. Harrington had dinner ready for you both when you came in, and she even let you and Steve watch TV afterward. 

Your father beeped his horn at around eight o’clock, signalling it was time for you to leave. Both you and Steve huffed an exaggerated sigh as you pushed yourself up, with Steve following. 

“Do you wanna come over tomorrow? We can play in the pool.” Steve asked gently as you pushed your shoes on at his front door, your hand leaning on the door handle for balance as you looked up at him. 

You nodded gently, a small smile across your lips before you pulled the door open. But you paused for a moment, you don’t know what compelled you to, but you turned around to face Steve and crossed the few short steps between you to wrap your arms around him. 

The two of you hadn’t hugged in the nine months that you’d been friends, it was rare that you really touched unless it was a part of a game, but his arms came up to wrap around your back nonetheless. 

“Thanks for saving me earlier.” Your voice was gentle as you spoke into his shoulder, but you were quick to pull away when you heard your father beeping the horn again. 

Steve snorted a laugh through his nose gently, a casual shrug of his shoulder as if to say he does that kind of stuff all the time. He followed you to the door as you left, watching you skip down the steps. 

“See you tomorrow, Worm!” He called as you opened the car door, you spun around quickly at the name. But he just offered you a cheeky smile, a wiggle of his fingers and the sound of the door slamming. 

And ever since that day, you don’t think one has passed where he hasn’t called you Worm. 

“If you want to get to the lake, we don’t have much time to take a break.” Your voice was gentle, mindful of the other people in here who wanted to study. But despite your words, your feet slowly pushed forward, the book in front of you falling to your lap as Steve smiled down at you. 

“Just five minutes?” He crept his hand over, a small raise of his eyebrow, and you let him reach for the book resting on your legs and close it. 

A happy sigh escaped him, shifting his legs to cross beneath him as he tossed his paper and pen aside. His knee brushed against your leg, but he didn’t seem to care, so you didn’t bother to move away. 

“So,” Steve announced loudly, but the quick turn of your head up to look at him and your widened eyes caused him to wince slightly, his voice lowering a register before continuing. “Has anyone asked you to prom yet?” 

Prom is something that you’d been excited for for as long as you could remember, and then some. You started looking for dresses last year, circling different gowns and hair styles in magazines and catalogues that you fell in love with. 

You had been asked, last week after English class you were pulled aside by Frankie Wall. He was cute by all means, he was on the basketball team with Steve but you’d only spoken to him a few times when he’d gently tapped your shoulder and asked if you were going with anyone to the prom, and that he’d love to go with you. 

Frankie was tall, with blonde curls that sat too perfectly atop his head. Being an athlete, his frame was broad and demanding, he was the kind of guy that took over a room when he entered it. You said yes to Frankie, despite there being a small part of you that wanted to go with Steve.

As friends, of course, but on the drive to school that morning Steve was telling you how he’d asked Brenda, and your stomach had flipped at the mention of her name. Brenda was beautiful, everyone thought she’d be whisked out of Hawkins soon and shipped off to Hollywood to star in a film or be on the cover of a magazine. 

But not only was she gorgeous, she was kind, too, a genuinely lovely girl. Steve had been crushing on her for months, and she seemingly wasn’t interested until now. So, knowing that Steve would be happy at prom, you thought that you deserved to be too. 

“Yeah, actually,” You spoke, pushing your hair behind your ear sheepishly as you looked up at Steve with a slanted smile. “Frankie Wall asked me the other day.”

“Frank asked you to prom?” Steve’s eyebrows furrowed gently as his eyes wandered across your face, he must’ve sensed your excitement for that night as you watched him bite back his words, holding back what he actually wanted to say.

“Why do you sound so surprised?” You hummed gently, your hands shifting in your lap as you twisted your dainty silver ring that your parents had got you for Christmas. 

Steve shook his head gently, lifting his hand to rub across his chin gently. A small laugh left his lips with a small shrug of his shoulder as his voice whispered down to you. “I’m not surprised. It’s just – y’know, Frank’s mom still drives him to school. And picks him up.” 

Your fingers paused in their movements before twisting your head to look up at Steve. He had a small smirk against his lips which only caused you to lean over, hitting your hand gently across his chest. “That’s not a bad thing, asshole. Not everyone can have a personal chauffeur like I do.” 

“Per– What?” Your comment pulled him from his laughter, his lips parting slightly as his eyes gently widened. But your small smile pulled him back to reality, his eyes rolling playfully as he leant forward and grabbed the science book, placing it back in your lap. “Oh, you’re the asshole. Just shut up and tutor me, Worm.”

Prom rolled around a few weeks later. You’d spent more hours than you’d like to admit finding the perfect dress. You went shopping in town with your girlfriends, running your hands over the same dresses hundreds of times ultimately ending with no luck. You begged your mother to drive you to the next town over, desperate to find the dress that you’d been dreaming of for the last few months. 

A few weeks ago, your father had had enough of your pleading so he finally drove you to the dress store of your dreams forty five minutes away. Within ten minutes, you’d found the perfect gown. 

It was a baby pink satin, cinched in at the waist but the fabric floated down to above your ankle to show off the perfect shoes you’d already found that would match your clutch. The dress had ruffled sleeves and a sweetheart neckline, it really was the dress of your dreams. 

When you tried it on in the store, it fit almost too perfectly. The material clinging to your body before floating down your legs, the ruffles not too big that they’ll distract from the hairstyle that you’d been practicing for the last week, but big enough that they warranted being there. 

You didn’t let your father see, claiming that you wanted it to be a surprise for everyone when Frankie came to collect you. 

When prom night finally came around, you woke up bright and early on Saturday morning to get yourself ready. You drew a bubble bath, scrubbing every inch of your skin with your favourite body wash, you washed your hair and even used a deep conditioner to ensure extra softness, 

You sat on the phone to your friend, Sarah, for at least an hour, listening to her gush about her date and how she was certain that her date, Sean, was going to ask her to be his girlfriend whilst they slow danced, the two of you giggling like school girls. 

As time ticked on, you spent too long perfecting your makeup. Using your mother’s blush to match your dress, a pearly lip gloss that matched the satin sheen of the fabric. Your mother helped you with your hair, you wanted big, bouncy curls tied up in the back to show off your neckline and your sleeves. 

“You look so beautiful, sweetheart,” Your mother spoke as she clipped the last few pink butterfly clips in your hair, securing the updo as she glanced at you in the mirror. “Frankie’s gonna be on the floor.” 

You snorted a laugh through your nose, cheeks burning beneath your blush as you swipe a bit more of the gloss over your lip. “Well, here’s hoping. I’m really, really excited.”

Just as your mother opened her mouth to respond, the house phone started ringing from downstairs. She patted your shoulder gently, before taking off downstairs to answer it. 

The dress was hanging up over your closet, the pink catching your attention in the mirror behind you. Now that your hair and makeup was done, you couldn’t wait another minute to change into your dress. And you couldn’t wait. 

When you slipped into it and zipped it up, you couldn’t believe the sight before you in the mirror. You thought you looked so grown up, and like everything that you’d ever imagine that you’d looked on your prom night. Just as you were about to go downstairs to show your parents, there was a gentle knock on your door. 

“Honey?” Your mother’s voice was gentle from behind the door, and she slowly pushed it open. You noticed the sad, wavering look in her eye as she poked her head around the door before stepping in. “God, you look so beautiful.”

“Thanks, Mom,” You glanced down at your dress once more, your palms flattening against the satin before flashing your mother a small smile. “Is everything okay?”

“Frank just called,” She spoke gently as she crossed the room to lean against your dresser, her arms loosely folding over her chest as she continued. “Said he’s been sick as a dog all day, and he won’t be able to make it tonight. I’m so sorry, baby.”

There were tears pricking at your eyes before your mother could even finish her sentence. You shook your head gently, perching yourself on the edge of your bed as you inhaled a sharp sigh. “Don’t worry about it. These things happen.”

She took a few steps toward you, her palm splaying against her forearm as she rubbed it gently. She looked as if she was racking her brain to come up with a solution, anything to help you. “Do you want me to call Steve–”

“No, no. Please don’t,” A small tear trickled down your cheek, the back of your hand coming up to wipe it away as you shook your head. “It’s okay. I just want to stay in, is that okay?” 

“Yeah, baby. I’ll be downstairs if you need me, okay?” Your mother took a few steps closer to press her lips against your hair before letting herself out of your room. 

As the door clicked behind her, you lay back on your mattress. A pinched sigh passes your lips before you let the tears fall, your fists balling beneath your eyes. You didn’t know why you were crying so much, of course you were super excited to go to the prom and it sucked that you couldn’t. 

Maybe it was a touch of embarrassment, that you were now all dressed up with nowhere to go. Maybe it was because you so wanted to see Steve in his suit that he’d called you about when he’d found it, the excited tone in his voice was enough to plaster a smile on your face until you fell asleep that night. 

After you laid on your bed for God knows how long, you heard your name being called from downstairs. You ignored it for a moment, until it got more persistent. So you reluctantly pulled yourself up, pulling the satin of your skirt up with you as you huffed through your door to the top of the stairs. 

When you reached the landing and made it two steps down, you were stopped dead in your tracks. Your breath snatched from your lungs. 

Steve Harrington was standing at your front door next to your mother and father. He was dressed in a black suit with a white shirt and a navy bow tie, a cream coloured corsage in his hands. 

A small whistle left his lips as he looked up at you, earning a glare from your father to which Steve mumbled an apology under his breath. 

“What are you doing here, Steve?” Your voice wavered gently, your grip tightening on the banister as you took another few, slow steps down the stairs toward him. 

He shrugged easily, his smile growing across his face as he took a few steps forward to meet you at the bottom of the stairs. “A little birdie called me, told me that Cinderella couldn’t make it to the ball.”

Your eyes glanced up to your mother, who was leaning into your father’s side with her hand pressed against her chest. Your teeth sank into your lower lip gently as you reached the bottom of the stairs, your voice a gentle whisper as you spoke. “What about Brenda?”

“Turns out she couldn’t make it either.” He avoided your eyes as his chin tucked into his chest, grabbing your hand and opening the corsage box. It fiddled between his fingers, but he managed to slip it on anyway. 

You didn’t believe him. You heard Brenda talking about her dress in biology, she sounded so excited. A part of you felt bad, knowing that she either was now going alone and would have to see Steve there with you, or end up not going at all. 

But all of those thoughts escaped your mind when Steve’s hand rested at your waist, pulling you comfortably into his side when your father pulled out his camera. Directing the two of you to pose, telling Steve to stand straighter and for you to move a little closer. 

It wasn’t what you were expecting, but it was everything you’d dreamt of. It was perfect.

The gym was decorated to a point where you didn’t even recognise it anymore. The smell of hairspray filled your nose instantly, the walls were lined with glittering streamers and there were enough balloons to supply a rubber factory with a disco ball over the dance floor that made everybody beneath it sparkle. 

Steve’s hand slipped to the small of your back, his fingers gently rubbing back and forth against the satin as he guided you through the sea of your classmates. You recognised everyone around you. Jessica from your history class, Michael from your English class, each person looked exactly the same but somehow you didn’t feel like you were in the gym at Hawkins’ High at all. 

All of your friends and classmates were dressed up like you’d never seen before. As you looked out into the crowd, all you could see was big hair and beautiful dresses. 

Steve’s hand splayed at your waist as the two of you wandered through the gym. Steve was greeting all of his friends and teammates, some of whom were the dates of your own friends, so you both spent a lot of the time in the corner speaking with them. 

“Hey,” Sarah tugged at your hand gently, pulling you from Steve’s touch. You took a few steps aside, leaning into her as she spoke to your ear. “What’s going on with you and Steve?”

“Wh– Me and Steve?” You choked, laughing gently as you lifted your eyes up to Sarah’s. You shook your head gently, your brain scrambling to find the words. How do you say – my date cancelled on me, which sucked. But now I’m here with Steve, who I actually always wanted to go with, so it all worked out fine! 

“Am I crazy for thinking that?” Sarah said with her brows furrowed gently, her head softly motioning toward Steve before continuing. “You guys look perfect together.”

Your eyes followed her own over to Steve, who was already looking straight at you. Tommy was leant into Steve’s ear, deep in conversation but Steve was unresponsive. He was just smiling at you, waiting for you to finish your conversation so you could return to his side. 

“Frank came down with something so he couldn’t come,” You said gently, offering Steve a small smile before turning your gaze back to Sarah. “So, Steve came to my rescue.”

“Like your knight in shining armour?” She responded teasingly, a small smirk tugging at her mouth which earnt her a gentle smack on her arm from you. “Alright, alright. I was just curious, I heard Brenda talking about how excited she was and I just assumed something must’ve finally happened for you to be here instead of her.”

You felt your stomach sink at the mention of Brenda’s name. You shook your head gently, your lips parting to speak but you were pulled from your thoughts when you felt a familiar hand at the low of your back. 

“Sorry to interrupt,” Steve’s voice was gentle from behind you, the warmth of his body settling any thoughts you’d just been spiralling about. “Can I steal you? Trouble you for a dance?”

Sarah’s teeth sank into her lower lip in an attempt to hide her smile, lifting her hand to squeeze your arm as she passed the two of you to return to her own date. You looked up at Steve, offering him a small nod before he guided you both to a spot beneath the disco ball. 

It felt like you’d done this a million times before. His hands settled at your waist like they belonged there, like there were already imprinted marks worn into your skin from his touch. Your hands were gentle as they rested on the broad of his shoulder, the material of his suit sending pulses through your hand and straight to your stomach. 

“You look really beautiful tonight, Worm.” Steve’s voice was gentle as he looked down at you, his thumbs gently rubbing back and forth on the fabric of your dress as the two of you swayed in time to the music. 

“Thank you, Steve. You look very handsome.” You responded softly with a small nod, your own smile inching bigger against your lips as you watched Steve shy away from your gaze. “Can I ask you something?” 

Steve nodded as his grip tightened on your waist, pulling you ever so slightly closer to him as he tilted his chin to match your eyes. “Anything.” 

You swallowed down the lump in your throat, blinking away any doubts of your question, speaking before you can talk yourself out of it. “How come you’re not here with Brenda tonight?” 

“Worm–” He started, taking in a sharp breath. But you were quick to shake your head, clearing your throat gently to continue. 

“I know that Frank let me down but, Brenda was so excited. You were so excited to go with her, I hate to think that I ruined this night for either of you.” You whispered, your fingers tightening around his collar just to give yourself something to do. 

“Look, you’re my best friend, I wouldn’t have wanted to be here with anyone else. Brenda was fine, you don’t need to worry about that. I’m just happy that I’m here with you, Worm.” His sincere tone was enough to settle your mind for now, his grip giving you a reassuring squeeze.

Silver Springs by Fleetwood Mac began swelling on the speaker, filling up all the space between you and Steve. Instead of saying anything else, you let your arms tighten around his neck gently, inching yourself closer to rest your head against his chest as the two of you held each other close. 

And just like you'd thought when Steve appeared at your door. It wasn't what you'd expected, but it was everything that you'd dreamt of.

October, 1983

Four years of middle and high school had passed since you moved to Hawkins. Swim competitions had been won, friends had come and gone, MTV had graced your TV set, the world lost John Lennon, E.T. had released in the theatres, and you and Steve were still the best of friends. 

Although, things were different now. You were almost seventeen, and things like going to the library and cycling around town weren’t really of your interest anymore. Steve had recently bought a BMW, a beautiful maroon coloured 733i that made everybody stare when you’d cruise along with Steve just for fun. 

Which is exactly what you were doing tonight. 

It was mid October, meaning you were tucked into the passenger seat of Steve’s car with a sweater and a coat wrapped tightly around you, sitting as close to the heater that your seatbelt would allow you. 

The two of you had been to see the new Star Wars movie at the theatre, not that either of you had been watching much of it. You were both whispering and giggling into your shared popcorn for the entire movie, chatting about what you were planning to go as for Halloween. 

But now, like always, Steve was driving you home. Although he’d already passed the turning for your road twice, sometimes the two of you would just waste his gas for hours. You’d always offer to pay for it, saying you’re the one who can’t stop talking and the least you could do is give him some money, but he never once would accept it. 

You were rubbing your hands together for warmth before turning to look over at Steve. “Get this, I was in English yesterday and I was talking to Nancy–”

“Nancy? Nancy Wheeler?” Steve was quick to interrupt you, his eyes pulling from the dark road ahead of him to glance over at you with a furrowed brow. 

“Yeah?” You laughed softly, pushing your hands beneath your sleeves and dropping them to your lap as you studied him.

“How do you know Nancy Wheeler?” You knew that he didn’t mean anything by his words, but his tone caused your brow to furrow and your lips to frown gently.

You paused for a moment, your eyes taking him in for a moment before answering. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

Steve took in a short breath as he glanced at you over his shoulder, sensing your offence from his words. “Well, she’s like, super smart–”

“I’m super smart.” You interrupted, voice biting through a small scoff. 

“Yeah,” You knew Steve like the back of your hand. So well that you could practically hear the roll of his eyes without even looking at him. “But she’s like, a sophomore in a junior’s class kinda smart.” 

“Well, yeah, she’s in my English class.” You scoffed again as your arms snaked across your chest, your posture straightening as your eyes bored into Steve, desperate to get to the bottom of his insinuations. 

“And you’re, what? Friends?” He asked as if the prospect was impossible. You didn’t understand what was so unbelievable about the fact that you could be friends with Nancy Wheeler.

Your eyes squinted at him gently as you replied, “Yes, Steve.” 

“Can you introduce me?” He asked you quickly, glancing a look at you every few seconds he could take his eyes off of the dark road in front of him. His eyes resembled a puppy’s, big and brown and begging for love. 

“Introduce you? Why can’t you just go up to her and say hi?” Your head leant back against the headrest as you looked over at him, your arms falling from your chest to rest in your lap.

“Nancy’s not – She’s not like the other girls, Worm. She’s different. She’s like, insanely smart, she’s kind and so goddamn beautiful.” His words came out soft, you watched him shift in his seat as if this was something he was scared to share with you. Like he was feeling vulnerable, almost.

You bit back all of the words your brain was screaming at you, offering him a small nod and plastering on an even smaller smile. “Yeah, fine. Okay. I’ll introduce you.”

“God,” He exhaled, “Thanks, Worm. You’re the best.” The bright smile that he flashed you was almost enough for you to actually want to go through with it, knowing that it would make him happy. You wished you had the balls to do otherwise. 

After Steve dropped you home, you couldn’t stop thinking about the way Steve had asked you to introduce him. Over the years, he’d asked you to introduce him to plenty of your friends, which always stung a little but Nancy. This feeling was a whole different ballpark. 

When he’d ask about your friends, he’d always say that they were hot, or something a little more crude that you’d always reprimand him for. But he’d noticed that Nancy was smart, and kind. He’d called her beautiful. All the things that he thought of Nancy were things that you could only dream he’d think about you one day.

You saw Nancy in school the next day on your way to math class. You spotted her dainty pink cardigan and her khaki crossbody bag out of the sea of people, taking in a short breath for extra confidence before speeding up your steps slightly.

“Hey, Nancy!” You called after her, to which she spun around happily to greet you. 

“Hey,” She spoke your name gently as she shifted her books from one arm to the other, her lips turning into a small smile. “Everything alright?”

“Oh yeah, fine, all good. I was wondering,” You found yourself lost for words. How do you even attempt to go about setting up Nancy Wheeler with Steve Harrington? You cleared your throat gently in an attempt to reboot your system. “Do you know my friend, Steve?”

“Steve? Steve Harrington?” She scoffed gently, her eyebrows raising at the obvious. “Yeah, everyone knows Steve.” She began walking slowly in the direction of her next class, which annoyingly was in the opposite direction of your own. 

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” You laughed gently, which earned a small smile from Nancy. “I was speaking with him the other day and you came up. He asked if uh, you wanted to come study with us? At the library after school.”

“Steve Harrington wants to study at the library?” Nancy almost laughed at your words, her eyebrows scrunching together as if you’d told her the most obvious lie, which you kind of were.

A small sigh passed your lips as your hand came up to hold her arm gently, pausing both of your steps. “Alright, he wants me to – introduce the two of you. Is that okay?”

She pulled her books tighter to her chest, her lips pursing gently in thought. “Yeah. I’ll be there.” She lifted her hand in a small wave goodbye as she carried on walking toward her next class. 

You let out the long, tight exhale that you’d been holding in since Steve first asked about Nancy, you’re sure. You spun on your heels and began taking off in the direction of your math class, your mind battling itself on why on earth you just set your Steve up with Nancy Wheeler, and making a bet on how long it would be until you regretted it.

The rest of the day felt like time had been slowed down, each of your lessons dragging out as long as possible just to torture you. You were never one to tune out in class or daydream, but today you couldn’t help yourself when your eyes dropped to the back of Steve’s head in History class.

You watched Steve try to focus and pay attention, scribbling down Mrs. Clicks’ words on his paper before approximately ten minutes later his pen dropped and he’d be looking around to talk to anyone possible. Twisting around in his seat completely to you when Mrs. Click turned her back to the class to write on the board. 

“Did you speak to her?” Steve’s voice left as a whisper, but it wasn’t quiet enough as a few of your classmates looked in your direction. You pursed your lips, picking up your pen and offering him a quick nod before telling him to turn back around. 

He complied happily, you watched his stupidly perfect hair bob with his shoulders excitedly, sometimes you thought his hair had a mind of its own, expressing emotions alongside Steve. And the thought of Steve and his hair being excited to meet Nancy just tugged at the strings holding your heart together that much more. 

When you’d passed Nancy at lunch, you’d told her that you and Steve would be in the car lot at four, and to meet you both there. The day ticked by, and as the last bell rang you took your time gathering your notes and packing your bag before setting off through the school. 

On your travels, you began to think about the positives if Steve and Nancy hit it off, maybe seeing Steve with another girl every day would be good for you. Maybe you could finally get over your feelings, and move on. 

But as you pushed open the front doors to wander over to Steve’s car, you were halted in your tracks. Nancy didn’t wait for you, she’d made her way straight over to Steve and she was now sitting in the passenger seat of his car. Steve was sitting comfortably in his own seat, his hands dramatically accompanying his story in front of his face as Nancy giggled along from beside him. 

You knew that they were still parked because Steve was waiting for you, to just let yourself into his car like you do every Monday when you’re out a little bit later because your last class is a walk away. And you don’t know what compelled you, but you turned on your heels before either of them could spot you. 

And you walked home, alone. Probably for the first time since you started at Hawkins High.

You didn’t stop to answer your mother’s questions when you came in the door about why you weren’t at the library, or why she didn’t hear you shouting goodbye to Steve after letting yourself into the house. You just made your way straight upstairs, grabbing your Fleetwood Mac vinyl to play on your record player. Anything to dull the thoughts of Steve. 

Hours later, after you’d finished your homework for tonight, made some soup for your dinner and flipped Rumours over more times than able to count, your phone rang from your bedside table. 

You knew exactly who it was, and a part of you wanted to let it go to answering machine. Let him sit there and think about what he’d done, like he was a child you were scolding. But he hadn’t done anything wrong. It was your own, stupid feelings that dawned this over your head. 

So, you pushed yourself up from your desk to sit on the edge of your bed. Taking in a sharp breath, before picking up the phone and holding it to your ear. “Hello?”

“Worm!” Steve’s voice crackled down the line, and you’d be lying through your teeth if the sound of his voice didn’t crack a small smile against your lips. “I didn’t see you after school, Nancy and I waited for almost an hour. Everything okay?”

“Tina ended up giving me a ride home. I stayed behind to help her with uh, yearbook stuff.” You lied through your teeth, immense guilt flooding through you as soon as it left your lips. You never, ever lied to Steve, but you weren’t going to tell him that you huffed home in a strop for a reason you couldn’t even pinpoint exactly. 

“Oh, right. I would’ve waited for you anyway.” He said with a small laugh as if it was obvious, which only made your heart throb that tiny bit more. 

“Don’t worry about it,” You said as you rolled onto your back. Your hand dragged across your face, rubbing your eyes with your thumb and forefinger as you continued. “So, how did it go with Nancy? Everything you dreamed of?” 

“God, she’s great. She’s funny but not in like, a jokey ha-ha way, like a smart way. She’s so totally different from all the other girls in Hawkins.” Steve spoke, and you could practically hear him kicking his feet and twirling his hair around his finger as he did. 

You laid there for almost two hours talking to Steve about Nancy that night. He was engrossing you in every detail, every laugh, every smile and by the end of the call you could’ve recited their entire conversation back to him. Backwards. And in French. 

You could’ve ripped your damn hair out. 

November, 1983

A little over a month later, all the fears that you’d been tossing and turning on had come true, Steve had asked Nancy to be his girlfriend. But you were happy for them, of course you were. Steve was your best friend and Nancy was probably the nicest girl in Hawkins, someone who he genuinely deserved. 

They hit it off almost instantly after your introduction, suddenly Nancy was there at the library with the two of you every day the following week. You sat in the back seat of Steve’s beamer for the first time when he drove the two of you home from the diner. And for the first time, again, you were dropped off first. 

You could feel your frustrations bubbling to the surface over time, through nobody’s fault but your own. It’s only natural that when your friend gets a partner that space between you will come with that. Steve and Nancy wanted to spend more time alone, which you completely understood, but you couldn’t help feeling slightly pushed aside. 

But you didn’t say anything to Steve, because he was genuinely happy spending time with Nancy and you didn’t see a point in causing aggravation because your best friend was spending more time with his girlfriend than you, it was bound to happen at some point. 

On this particular Friday in late November, Steve had asked you if you wanted to meet him and Nancy at the library after school. Nancy had to study for biology, he’d said, and he was missing you a lot. Of course, you agreed. 

But you must’ve got your wires crossed somewhere, because it was now six o’clock, and you’re sitting in front of your bedroom window and that stupid maroon beamer is nowhere to be seen. You weren’t even sure that the library stayed open this late on Fridays, but you had nothing else to do. So, you grabbed your jacket and set off on your way. 

The freezing winter breeze was threatening snow and you were cursing Steve, cursing Nancy and cursing yourself for actually trekking through these glacial temperatures. But you had a solution. 

Every time Steve drove you both to the library, he’d take a shortcut that shaved at least seven minutes off of the drive. The sun had set hours ago, so now you only had the street lights to guide you on your path. You think that you remember the way, albeit when Steve would drive you, you wouldn’t be paying much attention to the route. 

You’d either be toying with the stereo and getting your hand slapped away by Steve, resulting in an argument of which song would play next. Or, you’d be hunched over laughing at whatever stupid story he was relaying to you from school that day. 

But now, all of these streets looked the same. You pushed back the sleeve of your coat, your sweater, your thermal t-shirt until you were met with the face of your watch. It had been twenty seven minutes since you’d left home, and when you lifted your head to take in your surroundings – you had no idea where you were.

Steve always drove you everywhere, and in Hawkins’ November darkness, every street and every house looked exactly the same. 

You managed to find your way back to the main road, after a lot of exasperating huffing, puffing and adjusting the scarf that the wind kept unwinding from around your neck. Your boots kept carrying you along the sidewalk, until you felt your feet pausing in their tracks. 

Steve’s car. Steve’s beamer was parked across the road from you. You glanced at the quiet street around you, this most certainly wasn’t Steve’s street and this definitely was not the library. You took a few more steps forward until you had a clear vision of the front seat, your stomach dropping at the sight. 

Nancy leant over Steve’s console, his hands tangled in her mousy brown curls as they made out like their lives were depending on it. You glanced down at your watch again, your shaky fingers holding back your sleeve – two hours since Steve was meant to pick you up. 

The boiling of your blood at the prospect was enough to warm you up entirely, so much so that you had to pull the scarf from around your neck before you broke a sweat. You turned back around and continued on your journey to the library, even though it was definitely closing soon. 

When you blinked, all you could see was Steve kissing Nancy. You’d seen Steve kissing girls hundreds of times, literally. But there was something about Nancy, something in the way that he spoke about her that you knew this wasn’t just some crush, or a potential hook up, he really liked her. 

You didn’t realise that you’d let a tear spill, until your frozen fingers came up to wipe them away. And before you could stop yourself, you were paused in the middle of the sidewalk and sobbing into your palms. 

It was a mixture of things, you told yourself, things were changing. As much as you wanted things to stay the same forever, just you and Steve in your perfect bubble, you knew it couldn’t stay like that. He deserved to find someone, as did you. 

And as if the universe was pulling you from your spiral entirely, you were struck from your thoughts when you walked straight into something hard. 

As you collided, it was almost as if your body had given up and you fell straight onto your knees. You winced as your hands scraped against the gravel, protecting you from falling any further, your legs weakening beneath you as you let your weight fall to the side and sit on the sidewalk. 

“Are you alright?” A voice spoke gently, you glanced up from assessing the gash on your hand to look up at a tall man, obviously the one you’d just bumped into. 

You knew that it wasn’t his fault, it was your own for not looking where you were going, for stomping about like a child as you mentally argued with Steve for ditching you, with yourself for letting it happen, with Nancy. Maybe for being so perfect that Steve was falling for her, or maybe because she had what you wanted. 

“Do I look alright?” You scoffed sarcastically, wiping your hands on the plush of your coat before craning your neck to look at the man standing in front of you. “You need to look where you’re going.”

“I’m sorry, here,” He held his hand out to you, which you stared at for a moment before taking it in your own and letting him pull you to your feet. “Can I give you a ride? Or, something. I’m sorry, I feel awful.” 

After adjusting your scarf and gently rubbing your thumb against the small scab forming on the ball of your hand, you finally took a glance at the man in front of you. He was taller than you, with a mop of brown curly hair that fell past his shoulders and onto his leather jacket. From what you could make out in the dull streetlights, his eyes looked dark yet somehow kind. 

“No, I’m sorry,” You huffed gently as your well hand rubbed at your forehead gently, “I got lost walking to the library and I’m all over the place tonight. I’m just gonna head home, I don't live far from here, thank you for your help though.”

The man shook his head gently, his features softening as a slanted smile broke out across his lips. “I really don’t mind. My van’s only down the block, I was just heading over the road to drop something off–”

“It’s fine, I’m fine. Thank you, and again, I’m sorry.” You huffed a small laugh of embarrassment, your hand resting on his arm gently as you passed him on the sidewalk to finally make your way home. 

March, 1984

The last few months had left you feeling like you should rename yourself, maybe to Third Wheel. Because that’s all you were in the grand love story of Steve and Nancy.

You knew that it wasn’t on purpose, that when your best friend is in a relationship you can’t be around them all the time, but now even things that were always primarily for you and Steve had been tarnished. 

He would only drive you to school on Fridays now, since Nancy had to be at school earlier than everyone else for some stupid reason that you just scoffed at when Steve told you after he’d made you late one Tuesday in February. 

At first, it felt like the world was ending. You didn’t know how to survive in Hawkins without Steve. You had your own life without him, of course, you had amazing friends that you saw a lot more of now but you missed the little things with Steve. The late night conversations on the phone, watching movies until stupid hours in the morning and sleeping over on his couch. 

You were beginning to fill up your time with your old tricks. Digging your bike out of your garage, you even found your father’s old camera he didn’t use anymore and had taken up a new hobby. You were also making money again, babysitting for your neighbour Dustin Henderson. 

Claudia Henderson was one of the loveliest ladies in Hawkins, and her son, Dustin was cut from the same cloth. They lived in the house next door to your own, and last year when Claudia was going through her divorce, she’d asked you to look after Dustin a few times after school. 

You were happy to oblige, Dustin was the funniest, happiest kid that you’d met. The two of you had a lot of fun together, he loved indulging you in whatever was going on in the game he was always playing with his friends that week. 

One night, you were walking with Steve through school when you suddenly remembered you had a make up test in biology after school as you’d been out sick the week prior. Steve was quick to come to the rescue, reassuring that he’d watch Dustin so you wouldn’t have to let Claudia down. 

Steve and Dustin had met a few times. If you and Steve were out in your yard, more often than not you’d see a mop of curls peeking out from over the fence, plucking up the courage to ask if you and Steve wanted to hang out with him. Steve was reluctant at first, didn’t want to spend his Saturday playing with some kid, but they got on surprisingly well. 

Although, when Steve let you into the Henderson household that evening, Dustin was glued to the corner of the couch with an expression you’d never seen before. Dustin was white as a sheet and looked like he’d seen a ghost, and speechless – something you’d definitely never seen before. 

“Steve.” You called out to him as you stood on the other side of the coffee table, your arms folded in concern over your chest as you looked down at Dustin who was trying his hardest to avoid your eyes. 

He wandered in seconds later, half an eaten apple in his hand as he sank into the couch in front of you beside Dustin like nothing was wrong. “Worm.”

“Wh–” You scoffed a laugh, your eyes widening at Steve and darting back and forth between him and the terrified boy beside him. “Would you look at him, Harrington? He’s traumatised. What did you do?” 

Steve’s eyebrows furrowed gently, watching you intently as he listened before his head spun to look over at Dustin, who briefly looked back over at him before turning his head. “It was him! He’s the one that said you let him watch rated R–”

“Rated R? Steve, are you serious?” You pulled your hands over your face, laughing in disbelief into them before your hand fell to gesture at the terrified boy sank into the sofa. “He is TWELVE, you think I’d let him watch a Rated R movie? You have to be kidding me.”

Steve’s jaw slacked slightly as his gaze settled on Dustin, bringing the apple up to his mouth to take a bite before mumbling gently. “Well played, Henderson. Well played.” 

And from that night, Steve and Dustin were the best of friends. Steve would give him advice about girls in school, passing on tips on how to perfectly style his hair. On a few occasions, Steve’s horn would beep outside your house for you and by the time you’d made your way to his car – Dustin had already slipped into the back seat.

When you were feeling slightly pushed away from Steve, you found yourself offering more and more of your time to babysit Dustin. He was great company, he’d let you sit and bitch about Steve and Nancy for hours. 

“You know Nancy’s brother is one of my best friends, right?” He chirped one Thursday after one of your particularly long rants. Claudia was out getting groceries and had asked if you could sit with Dustin for an hour, which of course you accepted. 

“Yeah, I know,” Your eyes shifted to Dustin over the cards that you were holding in front of you, picking an eight of hearts from your deck and placing it face down between you. “But I get babysitter rights, nothing leaves the circle.”

A small snort left Dustin as he placed down his own cards, his finger tapping at his chin gently as he assessed his hand. He looked up at you as he placed one down, “I just don’t get it. If you like Steve–”

“I don’t like Steve, Dustin. I’m just all jacked off because now he’s with Nancy, I've just been cast aside. I feel like sometimes he forgets I exist.” You slumped in your chair gently, your lower lip pouting as you spoke. 

“I’m sure it’s just the novelty of having a new girlfriend. You’re his best friend, you don’t forget about your best friends. Ever.” Dustin spoke factually with a small tilt to his head, before throwing down another card between you. 

“Hm,” You pondered his words before leaning forward to toss another card onto the pile, your lips pursing as you replied. “You’re pretty wise for a twelve year old, Henderson.” 

“Yeah, I’ve been told,” He grinned. “Do you know Jonathan Byers?”

“Uh, pretty sure he’s a sophomore, can’t say I’ve ever met him. Why?” Your brow furrowed gently as you thought back to the handful of times you’d seen Jonathan Byers at school. Two or three times with Nancy, another time he was taking pictures of the basketball game, and you remembered smiling at him in the cafeteria once when you walked past him, and that was probably it. 

“Well, he’s Will’s older brother. Him and Nancy used to be good friends but Will told me she doesn’t come round much anymore. Maybe you two could be friends?” Dustin’s voice was gentle when he spoke, like he was being careful in choosing his words.

You felt your heart warm at Dustin’s attempt to make you feel better, you didn’t have the heart to tell him that you didn’t need any more friends, that you had plenty. You just needed Steve.

“I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks, Dusty.” You teased, met with an immediate snap from him at the nickname you gave him which he hated. 

The next morning at school, you were walking down the corridor with your friend Sarah when you came across Jonathan Byers putting up some posters on a board near the doors. You told Sarah you’d catch up with her, that you’d find her at lunch and took in a short breath before making your way over. 

“What are the posters for?” You asked over Jonathan’s shoulder. He jumped slightly at your sudden arrival, taking a step backward to gesture at the flyer he’d just put up. 

“Need a hand with some photography stuff for the yearbook,” His voice was gentle as his hand came up to scratch at the back of his neck, before turning to you with a small smile. “Do you know anyone?” 

Your eyes squinted gently as you leant forward to read the messily drawn poster, leaning back with a small nod as you met his eyes. “Yeah, I’ll do it. I found one of my Dad's old cameras, so I've been wanting to get more into photography, actually.”

Jonathan’s smile brightened at your words, his grip tightening on the books dangling by his side. “Alright, cool. Do you wanna meet in the photography lab after school?”

“Yeah, sounds good. I'll see you then, Byers.” You nodded at him before turning on your heels to begin walking in the other direction back toward your class. 

After that day, you and Jonathan met in the photography lab every Wednesday and Friday after school. You’d heard the rumours about him, that he was strange and only ever looked at you through the viewfinder of a camera. 

But after actually spending time with him, he was nothing but a nice guy. Sure, he was quiet, but he didn’t have a bad bone in him. 

One Wednesday after school, you and Jonathan were in the dim red light of the photography studio and he was showing you how to process film properly. He was showing you through an old album of his, flicking through a few quicker than the others.

“There’s a lot of Nancy in here, I didn’t realise you two were so close.” He looked up at you with his eyes slightly widened, like you’d just seen something you weren’t supposed to. “I mean, I knew you were friends but there’s a lot of her.” 

“Yeah, that was a long time ago.” He spoke quietly, shuffling the pages back together to close the book, now avoiding your eyes. 

“What happened?” Your voice was gentle, looking away from him in case he felt pressured under your gaze, and you didn’t want to push him to talk about something he was uncomfortable about. 

“Me and Nancy were kind of – together.” His voice was calm and casual, like this was common information. He closed the book shut, tucking it under his arm and walking toward the door of the lab. 

“Wait, what?” The information rocked you, your eyes following him out of the door before your body caught up. You swung the door open, your feet rushing to follow Jonathan down the hall toward the main entrance of the school. 

“We were seeing each other, on and off for about a year and a half. Our brothers have been friends forever, so we’ve known each other for a long time. It started when we were freshmen, then last summer it ended for good. Then obviously, come fall she’s all in with Harrington.” He was still avoiding your eyes, his voice tight like this wasn’t something that he spoke about often. 

A small sigh escaped you, adjusting your bag on your shoulder as you pushed open the double doors. “Oh, Jonathan. I’m sorry, I didn’t–"

“No, don’t be sorry, you didn’t know. Nobody knew. I think that’s why it felt so special, it was always just the two of us against everyone else,” He sighed gently. “I’m happy that she’s happy, I really am, but I can’t bear the thought of getting rid of those pictures of her. It’d be like getting rid of some of the best years of my life.”

“You don’t have to get rid of anything. It’s nice that you have something to look at and remember those times, I get it.” Jonathan’s brow wavered slightly as he looked at you, like you were admitting to something that you weren’t meaning to. “I just mean, I know what it’s like to lose a friend even though they’re right in front of you.”

Jonathan had dropped you at the library after your meeting in the photography lab. You’d insisted on walking, but he swore that the library was on his way home, and you couldn’t remember the last time you’d driven there.

On this particular night, the library was pretty empty. There were a few people sitting at the desks and a few cluttered around the few computers that the library supplied. You saw a friend from your chemistry class, flashing them a small wave before wandering down one of the aisles of books toward the history section.

“Hey, Worm.” The familiar voice sent a shiver down your spine, your nickname that you haven’t heard in at least a few weeks. When you turned your head over your shoulder, Steve was standing a few metres away. 

“Steve, hey,” You pushed the book back onto the shelf that your hand had landed on, turning yourself to him as he took a few steps closer to you. “What are you doing here?”

“Nancy’s helping me study for my biology quiz next week,” He glanced over his shoulder to a table in the middle of the space to see Nancy with her nose in a text book, her fingers skimming over the pages. “I've been meaning to talk to you. I was gonna call you, actually.”

“Oh?” You couldn’t deny the small skip in your chest at his words. “What about?”

He cleared his throat gently, his head turning on his shoulder to glance back over at Nancy before leaning into the book shelf beside him, his eyes stuck on yours. “Byers.”

“By– What?” You scoffed, your arms snaking across your chest as if to shield yourself from whatever he was about to throw at you now. 

“I’ve just noticed you hanging around him a lot more. At school, after school, I saw him drop you off today.” He spoke with a gentle tone, as if he was truly concerned about you. “I just think you need to be careful, Worm. You know what people say about him.” 

“Know what people say about him? God, you can be such an asshole sometimes, Steve.” You spat in response, your eyes rolling as you took a few steps forward to walk past him. His hand reached out to grab your arm as you passed, stopping you in your tracks. 

“Look, I’m not saying this to be a dick–” He started as his hand held onto you, almost as if he was trying to make you listen to him, to truly understand what he was trying to tell you.

“Oh, really? Because you really sound like one.” You shrugged yourself out of his grip, your brows furrowed as you continued. “You’ve pushed me out for months, Steve, you don’t get to be concerned about who I’m hanging out with. Maybe if you ignored what ‘people say’ then you’d know he’s actually a nice guy. Nicer to me than you have been in a long time.” 

“Oh, come on, Worm. You don’t get to act like this because I have a girlfriend now.” Steve half whispered at you, almost pained, like he felt sorry for you.

“Steve, this has nothing to do with the fact that you have a girlfriend. You haven’t spoken to me or spent time with me in weeks, and you just come over – don’t even ask me how I am, and tell me to watch my back because people say Jonathan’s a creep?” You spat, trying your hardest to keep your voice calm in the quiet of the library. 

You watched as Steve took in a sharp breath, pulling his eyes from your own to look over your shoulder at Nancy. You felt your heart waver at that moment, you were trying to get through your feelings but seemingly all he cared about was the girl sitting behind you.

“And you can’t even go one minute listening to me without looking at her? You really are an ass. Don’t call me.” You scoffed, adjusting your bag on your shoulder as you spun on your feet to make your way out of the library. 

You ignored his voice calling out your name as you sauntered through the rows of tables and books, and you ignored Nancy’s eyes on you as you passed her table. You ignored the librarian’s hushing as you stormed out, slamming the door behind you. 

And you ignored the voice in your brain telling you not to cry here, to wait until you were at home in the arms of your mother, but you couldn’t help it. 

You couldn’t ignore the fact that your best friend had just broken your heart. 

October 1984

It had been a while since you’d last seen Steve, probably the longest you’d gone without seeing him. 

Sure, you’d seen him around school and around town over the summer but there wasn’t much conversation. After what happened in the library, it was mostly just hello’s in passing and smiling at each other in the street.

This past summer was the first in five years that you didn’t spend every day at his house, the first in five years that you didn’t spend every other day in his pool. It was also your first birthday in four years since knowing each other that you didn’t share a cake with Steve on your birthday, and his. 

Your birthday fell in the first week of May, with Steve’s following in early June. Your birthdays were 37 days apart, which at twelve, you both deemed was close enough to warrant joint birthdays. 

This year, even without Steve you weren’t alone by any means. Your girlfriends knew that you were feeling down about spending your birthday without Steve, as things had been rocky for a while before that. They went to a great effort in decorating your living room whilst you were upstairs asleep that morning, they’d even baked you a cake. 

And you loved it, at first. It was the first birthday in Hawkins that you’d spent solely celebrating yourself. But as the day wore on, even surrounded by some of your best friends, without Steve you felt completely alone. 

Admittedly, you thought about calling him and wishing him a Happy Birthday, or even writing him a card, but you didn’t. And when you saw him at the community pool a week later, you regretted it immediately. 

You still feel a pinch of guilt now, sitting in the bleachers in the gym as you watched Hawkins play against Christian Academy. You tried your hardest not to watch Steve as he darted across the court, his sneakers squeaking against the maple flooring. 

Every time you looked at Steve, even six months after your last real conversation, a cocktail of regret, pain and something that feels a lot like love would draw up inside of you. 

Watching him celebrate with his teammates after they scored, watching how frustrated he would get each time a Christian Academy player would even blink, and watching the way his eyes would search through the crowd looking for Nancy – when they used to be looking for you.

You ducked out of the gym before the last whistle drew the game to a close, needing to release yourself from him. 

After Christian Academy took the win, Steve was practically seeing red, he’d complained to anyone who’d listen in the changing room about those cheating scumbags. He was sure his anger had nothing to do with the fact that Nancy didn’t show up to his game, again. 

Once he was showered and partially de-stressed, he made his way out of the gym toward the car park with a few of his teammates. They were planning to head home and change, then go to Brian’s house for a few beers to drown their sorrows of their loss. 

Steve was contemplating it. He could use a couple hours of normalcy, not thinking about you or Nancy or college, and just drink a few beers with his friends. 

And he was about to say yes, until he saw you in the dark across the car lot. 

You. Leant against the car of Christian Academy’s team captain, Kyle. His arm was laid on the hood, practically boxing you in as his other hand rested comfortably on his hip. Steve scoffed at the sight, watching you practically twirl your hair around your finger as Kyle was probably telling you all about their win. 

“You guys go ahead, I’ll meet you there.” Steve called out to his friends, unable to break his eyes from you and Kyle. Steve crossed the car lot to the Beamer, the door slamming behind him as he got in. 

He sat with his hands on the wheel, debating on whether to pull up next to you both and force you to get into the passenger seat. But why should he save you? You didn’t congratulate him on his game, you didn’t smile at him when he found you in the stands. 

Steve sped out of the car lot before he could give it a second thought, driving through the familiar dark streets of Hawkins toward Nancy’s house. If you weren’t going to make the first move, go and show your support for his teams’ efforts, then Nancy would. 

Steve thought it was stupid. The fact that he’d been with Nancy for almost a year now and he still had to climb through her window. As he lifted himself up onto the trashcan, he thought to himself how he wished she’d just be honest with her parents. Tell them that she’s happy with Steve, that she’s in love with him and they’re going to be together forever –

Nancy’s father could’ve spotted Steve sneaking into her room, come up behind him and dragged him off of the roof by his ankles. Thrown a few punches, flown a few kicks, called him every name under the sun. And the pain still wouldn’t have come close to what he was seeing right now. 

Jonathan Byers sat on Nancy’s bed, his hand tangled in her hair as she pulled him closer to him by his collar. Their lips moving in perfect unison, like they’ve done this before. Like they do this all the time. 

It was like Steve was looking at a car crash. A horrible wreck that he shouldn’t be looking at, that he should get in his car and drive away and call someone safe. But he was stuck, stuck watching his girlfriend making out with Jonathan Byers. 

He eventually pulled himself away, he could feel his heart in his throat as he made his way to his car. He slipped into the driver's seat, like it was a casual Friday night and everything was fine. Without even realising, he was driving to your house. The known route that felt way more familiar than the drive back to his own house. 

Steve was mentally preparing his words for you. That he was sorry, sorry for being a shit friend and not speaking to you all summer but he was right about Jonathan Byers. His hands clutched at the wheel, foot pushing down on the pedal to cross town that much quicker to see you. Steve needed to see you. 

But when he pulled up outside your house, there was no life to be seen. Your parents car wasn’t in the driveway, all the lights inside were off. He even opened his door to poke his head out, looking up to your window to see if your lamp was on in your bedroom – but it wasn’t. 

Steve drove home that night, blinking back his tears the entire drive back to his own house. He planned on ignoring his parents when he entered the house, but there was no life in his own place either, his parents weren’t there. 

Once he’d reached his bedroom and slammed the door shut behind him, in the quiet solemnity of his room, he fell back against the mattress. Before he could stop them, tears were pouring from his eyes, streaming down his cheeks and wetting the sheets beneath his head. 

Steve couldn’t remember the last time he cried, he almost did on his birthday when Nancy had bought him a cake, but you weren’t there with him to blow out the candles. Now, it’s like every tear he’d ever held in was now pouring out. 

Except, he didn’t know if he was crying more about the fact that Nancy had just ripped his heart into a thousand pieces, or because you weren’t there with him to help put it back together.

November, 1984

Bullshit. 

Everything that had happened over the last week has been absolute bullshit. 

Steve had caught Nancy cheating on him, quite literally red handed, and he had prepared himself to confront her about it the next day. He’d been racking his brain for hours. Why would she cheat? Why with Byers?

But Nancy had called to cancel her plans with Steve, leaving him to spend that weekend entirely alone with his thoughts in his very lonely house. 

He’d thought about calling you, but he was embarrassed. He didn’t want to tell anyone that Nancy had cheated on him, with Byers no less. So on Monday, he picked her up like normal. Kissed her hello like normal. Walked into school hand in hand, right to her locker and then straight to her first class like normal. 

Tina’s party was tonight. Halloween landed on a Wednesday this year, so the party was planned for Friday night. Meaning Steve had to go an entire week pretending like everything was okay, like his heart breaking all over again every time Nancy would lean in to kiss him. 

Nancy and Steve had planned weeks ago for them to go as Joel and Lana from Risky Business. Nancy wore a white dress with a black bow around the collar, and Steve borrowed a black blazer from his father with some of his sunglasses. The pair looked perfect together as they walked hand in hand into the party, making their way through the crowd and straight into the kitchen. 

As Steve made his way around the room, speaking to his friends and even introducing himself to new ones. He didn’t realise how long he’d been working the room for, until someone tugged on the sleeve of his blazer.

“Hey, man, I think you need to take Nancy home.” The guy said before swanning off back to his own friends, Steve pulled the sunglasses from his face to find Nancy.

She stood at the kitchen island, swaying with her head tipped back as she was determined to swallow every last drop of her drink. Steve crossed the room in seconds, his hands lifting to steady her shoulders as she buckled backward into his touch. 

“C’mon, Nance. Let’s go get you some water.” Steve’s voice was gentle as he tucked her frame beneath his arm, her hands pawing at his blazer as she drunkenly stumbled beside him as he guided them to the nearest bathroom. 

“Thanks, baby,” She hiccuped from his side, her fingers wrapping around the edge of his blazer as she looked up at him. “You look so handsome tonight, Jon.” 

Steve felt his blood run cold, his throat tightening as he simply nodded down at her, flashing her a tight smile. His palm wrapped around the knob of the bathroom door, pulling it open and guiding her inside. 

He wrapped his arm around her waist, holding her steady as his spare hand pulled down the toilet seat so he could guide her to sit down on it. She thanked him quietly, her eyelashes fluttering as she swayed back and forth gently. 

Steve leant against the counter, unable to find it in him to look at Nancy as his fingers rubbed gently across his chin. “A–Are you alright?”

Nancy stayed quiet, her shoulders sinking into herself slightly. When Steve heard her sniffle, he finally looked over to see her face in her palms and her shoulders gently shaking. Steve took a few steps forward, his palm rubbing at her upper back. 

“Steve, I’m so sorry,” Her voice was muffled by her palms, wavering as she lifted her head to look up at Steve. She lifted the back of her sleeve to her nose, rubbing beneath it gently before continuing. “There’s, uh– there’s something I have to tell you.” 

You’d turned up to the party a bit later than you’d anticipated. You were planning on skipping, not wanting to be surrounded by Steve and Nancy at another party, but all your friends were going so you pulled together your costume last minute and set off to Tina’s. 

But you didn’t make it into the party. 

When you were a few houses away, someone familiar was barrelling down the block toward you. You had to pause in your steps, your eyes squinting as the figure dressed in black got closer, and closer, until you saw that perfectly styled mop of hair. 

“Steve?” You called out, your steps rushing to take a few steps toward him as he stopped in his tracks at the sound of your voice. 

He was standing beneath the streetlight as you reached him. His shoulders slouched, his eyes pained and red and his cheeks wet with tears. You couldn’t help but reach out to him, your hand landing on his arm. 

Steve’s brow furrowed as he looked over you, emitting a short sniffle before speaking. “What the fuck are you meant to be?” 

Your lips parted gently, looking down at your costume. You didn’t have much time to prepare, all of your friends were going to the party dressed as something sexy or cute. But you grabbed one of your father’s work shirts, and an old wig brown curly that you’d somehow acquired for something for school. 

“I’m Bob Ross,” You lifted up the paintbrush that you’d brought as a prop, using it to point to the moustache that you’d drawn on with some eyeshadow. “You know, from PBS– Whatever. What happened?”

Steve’s eyes trailed over you once more, giving you a small nod before bringing his hands up to his face. They dragged over his eyes, squinting shut as he let out a loud groan. “Uh– How long have you got?” 

You pursed your lips gently, offering him a small shrug of your shoulder. “I’ve got time.”

The two of you began walking side by side away from the party. Steve told you everything. About how Nancy had been distant lately and didn’t go to his basketball game, that he went to her house after and saw her kissing Jonathan. How he had to pretend like everything was fine, how she just called him Jon. Right to his face. 

He told you how she’d just told him everything in the bathroom. That she’d been spending more time with Jonathan recently, and she didn’t mean for it to happen. She didn’t want to hurt Steve, that was the last thing she wanted to do. But she couldn’t help it. She loved him. 

“I’m really sorry, Steve.” You spoke gently, your hand coming up to rest on his shoulder. The two of you had walked to your house, and now you were sitting with your knees pressed against his on the wooden steps of your front porch. 

“You have nothing to be sorry about, Worm. It’s him, and her.” Steve spat as his palms rubbed against his forehead, his elbows digging into his knees. 

Your hand slipped from his shoulder to his upper back, gently rubbing your hand back and forth in an attempt to soothe him as you spoke softly. “I know that you don’t like Jonathan, but–”

“Don’t like him?” His hands dropped from his face to turn to look at you, his brows furrowed in anger as he practically huffed steam from his nose. “Worm, I saw him kissing my girlfriend. I’m gonna beat his Goddamn ass.” 

“No you’re not, Steve,” He looked at you as if you were crazy, his head inching forward slightly as his jaw dropped slightly. “Jonathan is a good guy. He’s a bit misunderstood, sure. But I spent a lot of time with him over summer. He–”

Steve let out a loud groan, his head rolling to the side as his eyes squinted shut. “Oh my god, Worm. Not you, too? He’s taken Nancy, now you–” 

“Jesus Christ, Steve. Can you let me talk? I know that you’re angry right now, and rightfully so. And I know that this must really hurt right now, it’s a horrible situation. But you’ve got to be the bigger man here, you’ve got to let her go.” Your hand pulled from his back to adjust yourself on the wood to face him more, lifting your fingers to push a few strands of your wig from your face.

“What, just like that?” Steve quizzed, his brow cocking upward as if what you were implying was preposterous and absolutely unheard of.

You took in a short breath, pursing your lips as you spoke gently. “Look, Jonathan told me that he and Nancy were on and off for a long time. And I know Nancy, you know Nancy. She wouldn’t have kissed him for no reason, I think she really liked you but I think that there was a part of her that always loved him. You can’t lose yourself over a girl who wasn’t yours to begin with.” 

Steve softly shook his head, lifting up his hand to rub beneath his eye as a short laugh fell past his lips. “I hate it when you’re right.”

You laughed with him softly, that sound alone brightening up the darkness that you’ve had clouded over you since that day in the library. “Yeah, I hate it right now too. I don’t want to be right if it means it hurts you but, I know that you’re strong and you’re smart, and you’ll be able to forgive her. And him.” 

Steve looked up at you now, properly. A smile twitching at the corner of his lips as his eyes shifted to the wig on top of your head, his shoulder knocking yours gently. “I can’t take you seriously in that damn wig, Worm. Take it off.”

And just like that, it was as if you and Steve had never spent a day apart. 

May, 1985

During this particular week toward the end of May, it was the first week that really felt like summer was around the corner. The birds would chirp happier in the morning, the air would feel crisper, and for the last four days straight the sun had been out with no sign of leaving. 

Summer was by far your favourite season. You loved sleeping with your bedroom windows open and the way the leather in Steve’s car would smell after a day of cooking in the sun. You loved laying in the grass for hours, reading whatever book you picked up from the shelf and you loved Steve Harrington’s pool. 

So, when Steve was driving the two of you home from the diner after school, you could feel the excitement bubbling in you at the prospect of the weekend. 

“My Dad has some work conference, and obviously my Mom had to go too,” He glanced over at you over his shoulder, giving you a knowing look before glancing back to the road. “So I thought we could make a weekend of it, grill a few burgers by the pool, steal a few beers from the garage. Fancy it?” 

You felt like a dog hearing all of its favourite words, your posture straightening by the time he’d finished his proposal. “Oh, Steve. You know I’m there.” 

The corner of Steve’s mouth curled upward as a content sigh passed through his nose alongside a small nod of his head. “Perfect, I’ll pick you up at two?”

“You don’t need to pick me up, Steve–” You began, but you were quickly intercepted. 

“Worm, please. I’ll be there at two.” 

One thing about Steve is that if he could help it, and he always could, you’d never walk anywhere. He’d drive you to your doctor's appointment and sit in his car until you’d finished, he’d sit outside your house every morning before school at eight o’clock sharp, he’d even drop you off at your friends house and make sure you’d got through the door before taking off. 

And like clockwork, you heard the familiar hum of Steve’s stereo playing and his car coming to a halt through your open window. You packed everything you needed for a day at Steve’s house. The book you were currently working through, a hefty bottle of sunblock because you knew Steve wouldn’t have thought of that, you’d even managed to sneak a bottle of your mother’s Riunite at the bottom of your bag that you knew she wouldn’t miss. 

When you pulled your front door shut behind you, Steve was leaning against the passenger door and patiently waiting for your arrival. As you bopped closer down your front path, he pulled the sunglasses from his eyes and perched them into his hair. 

“Worm,” He greeted you, a bright grin across his lips as he stepped back to open the door for you to slip into. “Don’t you look lovely as ever today.” 

“Oh, shut up.” You snickered as your hand reached up to squeeze his arm in thanks as you tossed your bag onto the foot of the car before getting in. Steve shut the door once you’d sat and rounded the car, his keys twirling around his finger. 

“Was I hearing things or was your bag sloshing when you got in my car?” He quizzed you playfully, a small raise of his eyebrow as he looked down at you over his nose as he put the beamer into gear. 

You hummed gently, leaning down to fish through your bag to pull out the contraband. Your fingers wrapped around the bottle as you shook it gently for him, pairing it with a toothy grin. “Guilty.”

Steve laughed gently at your actions, his fingers pushing his shades back down as he took off down your street. “Never pegged you for having sticky fingers, Worm.” 

The two of you arrived at the empty Harrington house not long later, even though you’d been here more times than you could count it always felt like a house you’d seen in a movie when you’d make your way toward it. 

Steve had chased up to you on the path, his hand coming up to grab the bag off of your shoulder and throwing it over his own as he dug in his pocket for his house keys. When you entered, you noticed that Steve had tried his best to tidy the house up for you. 

The Harringtons had cleaners that would come once a week to tidy the house, and after almost six years of being at Steve’s house almost everyday, you knew how they’d leave the house. But there was something different this time, something more Steve. And you couldn’t deny the warmth in your chest at the thought of Steve bustling around the house, tidying and anticipating your arrival. 

He led you straight into the kitchen where he placed your bag on the dining table and made his way straight over to the fridge. You poked your head around from behind him to catch a peak, and you noticed the burgers he must’ve gone out to buy this morning, and punnets of strawberries which made your heart warm. Because you loved strawberries, but Steve despised them. 

Before you could press him about it, he’d turned back around to you with two beers in one of his hands. You watched as his long, thick fingers clutched around the neck of the bottles as his spare hand came up to the small of your back to guide you outside. 

The afternoon passed by you quicker than you’d hoped for. Your legs laid out in the sun as Steve supplied you with a new beer every time he heard your empty bottle hit the small table that sat between your lounge chairs. 

Steve was happy to man the grill to let you read, but every time your eyes shifted to turn to the next page you couldn’t help your gaze as it trailed over to him. Something about him looked so grown up, sipping his beer with one hand whilst the other used the spatula to flip over the burgers. This was a much different Steve to the one you remember from six years ago, tumbling in the grass and scuffing his knees on any surface possible. 

“How’s the book, Worm?” His voice pulled you from your thoughts, your eyes readjusting as he glanced over his shoulder to smile over at you. 

You dog eared the corner of the page, turning it closed to place on the lounger next to you as you swung your legs over the edge of it. “Making my way through,” You rose from the chair to cross the patio over to him, swinging the neck of the bottle between your fingers as you stopped short behind him. “Can I do anything to help? Feel like you’re waiting on my hand and foot.” 

He practically scoffed as he tipped the last of his beer down his throat, before handing it out to you. “You can get me a refill and grab some plates? Oh, and some buns. They’re in the–”

“I know where they are, Harrington.” You smiled up at him as you grabbed the empty bottle from him, spinning in your flip flops before making your way back into the house. 

It was much cooler inside, even more so when you opened the fridge to retrieve Steve’s next beer. You grabbed the buns from the cupboard that you know Steve would’ve put them in after his trip to the store this morning, and headed back outside. 

By the time you’d finished your burgers, you and Steve were back on your adjacent sun loungers with full bellies and half empty beers. 

“I’m going on a date next week.” You announced out of nowhere, your head turning into the headrest of the lounger as it tilted to look over at Steve. 

“A date? Why?” His voice clipped, and he must’ve noticed the furrow of your brow because he was quick to redeem himself. “I just mean, you’re off to college in like, three months. What’s the point in starting something now?”

You shrugged your shoulder gently as you tipped the bottle back to finish it, a slight smirk present on your lips when you pulled it back down to rest beside you. “It won’t be anything serious, no harm in having a little fun.” 

As you leant down to the cooler sat between your chairs, you missed the way Steve’s face contorted in confusion. You couldn’t read his mind, so you didn’t know it was racing with thoughts of you on a date with a guy. But not just a date, the prospect of you hooking up with a guy. 

“So, you’re gonna hook up with him? Who is he?” He spoke from beside you, his hand reaching out to take the beer that you were offering him. 

You twisted the cap off, suddenly feeling exposed under Steve’s gaze. “You don’t know him. He used to go to school with us, but he’s older–”

“An older guy? You’re hooking up with an older guy?” Steve sounded shocked as he interrupted you, the rim of his beer falling from his lips slightly as he looked over at you. 

Steve paused for a moment, and suddenly his brain was wracking with all the times that he’d dropped you off at your girlfriend's houses. But there were a few occasions he’d drop you at houses that he didn’t recognise, not that he’d think much of it as he didn’t know the address of every girl in Hawkins, surprisingly. 

How many times had he dropped you off at guys houses and why had you never told him? It wouldn’t have been an issue, obviously. But now he was coming to think of it, Steve had never known you to speak about a guy, let alone be hooking up with one. 

“You’re making it sound way worse than it is,” You spoke with a small laugh, adjusting yourself onto your side as you turned to look at him. “He’s only a year older. We met at Tina’s party a few weeks ago, it’s not a big deal.”

“If it’s not a big deal, why didn’t you tell me about it?” Steve avoided your eye as his thumb picked at the corner of the sticker on his bottle, his eyes shifting to find yours as he continued. “Why haven’t you ever told me about a guy you’ve been seeing?”

“I don’t know, I didn’t think you’d really be that interested in the guys that I’ve had sex with.” A taut laugh passed your lips as you took another sip. You must be slightly buzzed now if you were talking to Steve about your sex life. 

Steve couldn’t pinpoint the feeling, but hearing you talk about the guys you had sex with sent a strange sensation through his bones, an unfamiliar tighten in his stomach. Steve knew the caliber of men in Hawkins, and the idea of you laid in bed with one of them unsettled him. That’s all it could be, right?

Steve shook his head gently, shaking all the unfamiliar thoughts from his head as he sat up entirely to look over at you properly. “Worm, of course I care about the guys you’re having sex with,” His voice clipped slightly, his brows furrowing as he retraced his words. “I mean, you’re my best friend and I want you to be able to talk to me about these things. God knows how many conversations we’ve had about my sex life.”

Your head tipped back in a small laugh at his words, unable to stop the mellow smile that’s tugging against your lips. “Alright, I’ll call you next time I finish sucking–”

Steve cut you off with a laugh, one of his hands coming up in between you to pause you in your sentence as he looked over at you. “Didn’t say I wanted all the details. But, you know, if you ever need advice or wanna talk about anything. That’s what I’m here for.” 

“Fine,” You agreed with a small nod through your small huffs of laughter, rolling onto your back to look out at the sun setting over the trees backing onto Steve’s garden. “I won’t tell you all the details, but I’ll talk to you more.”

“There we go.” Steve’s voice spoke gently from beside you, holding out his bottle toward you to which you tapped the neck of your own against his gently. 

There were a few breaths of silence between you as the hum of the radio from the kitchen spoke the words for you both. Your tipsy mind was happy to sit in the quiet of Steve’s garden, whereas his own mind was thinking back to all the guys on the basketball team that had asked him if you were single. 

Or all the times he’d been walking up to you and your friends in school in the corridor, and you’d be giggling away until he’d walk up. Were you talking about guys? He even thought back to the night of Tina’s party. He’d seen you talking to some guy but didn’t think much of it, but now he’s remembering he couldn’t find you for at least an hour after that. 

“So,” Steve cleared his throat gently before turning his head to gaze over at you, watching as you mirrored his action. “James? On the basketball team, my James?”

A sheepish smirk crept against your lips, a smirk that made Steve’s stomach drop. A small giggle past your lips as you turned your gaze back to the sun setting in front of you. “Yep. In his car.” 

“Wh– Worm! I’ve been in that car, in that backseat, multiple times.” Steve choked, his body shooting up to lean on his elbow to look over at you.

“Who said it was in the backseat?” You offered with a small shrug as you stood up, leaning over to grab the empty bottles in your arms before heading back to the house, calling behind you. “I’m gonna grab that wine now.” 

Steve’s jaw was slack as he watched you strut back toward the house, the thought of you doing unspoken things with James McCallister in his stupid beat up Ford Pinto Wagon taking over his brain. God, he thought you deserved so much better than a lump of crap like that. And he didn’t just mean the car.

He couldn’t stop thinking about it until you stumbled back out of the door with the wine under your arm and two glasses in your hands. A bright, bubbling smile against your lips that made all thoughts of James McCallister evaporate from his brain almost instantly. 

After you’d both finished your mothers bottle of wine, and Steve had gone searching for another in his basement, the sun had settled completely and the only thing lighting up the dark of the garden was Steve’s pool lights and the dim light from his kitchen window. 

Somehow, maybe it was after the first bottle when Steve was chasing you around the length of his pool to try and throw you in, your lounge chairs had been knocked and inched even closer. 

The two of you laid back in your lounge chairs, the hum of the cicadas surrounding you. The effects of the alcohol were in full force now, your head lulling aside slightly as you glanced up at Steve who had just pushed a cigarette behind his ear, and was now fishing through his pocket to find his lighter. 

“God, how many girls fall for this cool guy trick of yours, hm?” A small string of drunken giggles that you couldn’t hold back left your lips as you lifted your hand from your lap to pull it from behind his ear. “Don’t forget who taught you who to smoke.” 

The corner of his lip pulled as he watched you place the cigarette between your lips, he snapped open his lighter and struck the flint downward. The flame lit up your features, and his smile only widened at the warmth of you looking up at him. 

“Not a cool guy trick,” He hummed gently as he watched you inhale and pull it from your lips before offering it back to him. “But the ladies do like it.”

A laugh snorted through your nose as you brought the last dregs of your wine up to your mouth, your laughter echoing into the glass which only brought a brighter smile against Steve’s lips around his cigarette. 

The two of you passed it back and forth, ignoring the brush of Steve’s fingers and the way his skin felt against yours as you received it. You both laid there, talking about everything and nothing whilst giggling at each other. 

Steve deaded the dart on the stoned patio beside him, despite your tutting. He was quick to rise to his feet after, with a small sway as the alcohol and nicotine seemingly rushed to his head. 

“Where are you going?” Your words passed as a small whine, your body rolling onto its side to throw your leg over his now empty lounge chair. Your eyebrows furrowed as you watched him pull his t-shirt over his head, and your jaw dropped as he took off and plunged straight into the pool.

The water splashed your legs as it rippled out from around him, a small scream leaving your lips as you pulled them back toward you. Steve emerged through the surface moments later, his hands lifting through the water to hold him in place as he shook the water from his hair like a dog. 

“Come on, Worm. Not gonna leave me in here alone, are you?” Steve chuckled gently as he bobbed in the water, swimming through to lean against the edge of the pool to look over at you. 

“I don’t have a bathing suit.” You said, tucking your hair behind your ear as you sat up on the sun lounger and placed your empty glass beside you despite your words. 

“Worm. I can literally see your bikini strings hanging out the top of your shirt.” Your brow furrowed gently as your hand felt around your neckline until it found the nylon fabric. A short snort pushed through your nose, remembering that you had put a bikini on under your clothes this morning, in case of emergency. 

You met Steve’s eyes as he began chanting Worm quietly, his voice creeping louder and louder as you rose from your chair and steadied yourself. A reluctant groan passed your lips, like this was the last thing you wanted to be doing as your fingers wrapped around the hem of your shirt and pulled it over your head. 

As your tipsy fingers were too busy trying to unbutton your shorts, you didn’t notice Steve’s chanting falter and the way his head tilted aside as he watched you undress in front of him. He’d seen this scene hundreds of times, innocently stripping down to your bathing suit to get in the pool. And maybe it was the two bottles of wine or however many beers he had, but for some reason he couldn’t pull his eyes from you. 

But before he could take another second to think about what that meant, you were running toward him and launching yourself over his head and into the water behind him. 

Steve’s arms twisted himself around as you made your way toward him beneath the water, his legs treading the water beneath him to keep himself up as you emerged. The two of you laughed as you met, Steve cursing at you as you shook your own hair around like a dog.

The pair of you could’ve been in there for ten minutes or two hours, but by the time you pulled yourself out of the water, the air had turned cold. Steve hauled himself out after you, making his way to grab your pile of clothes and his t-shirt before coming up behind you. 

“Let’s get you a towel, Worm. C’mon.” His spare hand tapped at your shoulder gently, pulling you from your shivering trance as you wrapped your arms around yourself. 

You followed him into the house, pool water dripping behind you both as he shut the door behind you. He tossed the clothes onto the dining table before ducking into the mud room just off of the back door, grabbing two towels and tossing one in your direction as he pushed his own through his hair. 

Steve trudged through the house with his towel wrapped around his shoulders, wandering into the kitchen with you in tow behind. As he made his way to the fridge, you hoisted yourself up onto the counter of the island. 

“I was thinking,” Steve spoke into the fridge as his hand landed on the strawberries that he’d brought for you, kicking the door shut behind him as he returned to you. “It’s late and I’m in no state to drive you home. Do you wanna stay over? You can have the guest room, it’s all made up.”

You nodded softly as you took the punnet from him, pulling the towel further over your chest before pulling the lid open. Your fingers landed on the biggest strawberry, looking up at Steve as you took a bite out of it. “I don’t have any pyjamas though.” 

“That’s fine, I’m sure I can lend you a t-shirt or something,” Steve chuckled gently, his arms crossing over his chest as he watched you enjoy the fruit he’d bought for you. His attention turned back to the fridge, pulling it open and grabbing two more beers in his hand before looking over at you. “Wanna go up and watch a movie?”

You leapt off of the counter without answering, keeping the strawberries to your chest against your towel as you made your way through the rest of the house and towards the staircase. You heard Steve’s huffed laugh from behind you, his footsteps gradually gaining in on you as he caught up. 

The plaid wallpaper in Steve’s room always earned a small laugh from you every time you found yourself in here. You remember how excited he was the summer his mother let him decorate his room, the proud smile on his face at how grown up his new bedroom was. 

“Quit laughing, Worm. So predictable.” Steve mumbled from behind as he passed you, his fist playfully knocking your arm as he did. He beelined straight to his dresser, rummaging through the top drawer to find a t-shirt for you. 

His hand grabbed an old Led Zeppelin t-shirt, turning around to toss it at you. Your towel dropped from around your shoulders as you leant across to grab it, playfully bowing for him as you did. Steve snorted a small laugh through his nose, shaking his head slightly as he climbed onto his bed, resting his arms behind his head. 

In your still slightly drunken state, you wandered to the other side of Steve’s bed. You dropped the t-shirt on the mattress, and lifted your hands to the back of your neck, beginning to untie the halter of your bikini. 

“Wh– Worm!” Steve spluttered as the fabric fell from around your neck, revealing your chest to him. Steve was quick to look away, trying his hardest not to look at you out of the corner of his eye. 

You tutted at him, bringing your arms around your back to untie the rest of it before dropping it onto the floor on your side of the bed. You grabbed the t-shirt, pulling it over your head as you spoke. “Relax, Steve, have you never seen boobs before?”

He stole a small peek after your words, turning his head to you completely now that you were decent. His brow furrowed gently as he scoffed, “Of course I’ve seen boobs before. Just– Not your boobs.”

A small giggle passed your lips as you rolled your eyes, climbing onto his bed and falling back onto the mattress with a happy sigh as your head hit the pillow. Your eyes were stuck on the ceiling, the room spinning slightly around you before you glanced over at Steve, whose head was leant against his bicep and staring at you. 

“What?” Your voice was soft, a small drunken hiccup to your voice as your eyes wandered over Steve’s soft features in the dull lamp of his bedroom. 

His lips parted to speak, but he shut them quickly. He adjusted himself, rolling on his side to face you and dug his elbow into his pillow, resting his chin on the ball of his hand. “I was just thinking. Earlier, when we were talking about you, and – and guys.”

You nodded softly, mirroring Steve and turning onto your side to face him. Your hand slipped beneath his pillow that was supporting his head, offering him a soft smile as you spoke. “Mhm.”

You could see his mind working behind his eyes, planning out his next words as he took in a short breath to speak. “I was just thinking that,” His voice dropped a few octaves, his eyes slipping from your own to watch his fingers toy with the sheet on his bed between you. “When I lost my virginity, we spoke about it for weeks, I couldn’t shut up about it. But you never told me when you lost yours.”

“Well, it’s like I said earlier I just didn’t think it was something you’d be interested in hearing about. Like, of course you’re my best friend, but I didn’t think you’d want to know about that.” You spoke truthfully, missing out the part where you thought it would be weird to tell the guy you’re secretly in love with about another guy you slept with. 

Steve shook his head gently as his eyes found yours again, his voice soft as he spoke. “Yeah, I get that. I would’ve been there for you, y’know, given you some tips or advice.” 

You took in Steve’s words with a small nod, your eyes roaming over his face but you couldn’t help the shit bearing grin that was growing across your lips. Steve’s brows furrowed gently, blinking down at you. 

“What?” He pressed, his hand lifting from the bed sheet to gently push at your shoulder as you began giggling quietly. “Worm, what?”

“Alright, alright,” You sighed, taking in a breath to control your drunken giggles before pushing a strand of hair out of your eyes that had fallen. “I kind of lost my virginity about two weeks before you did. So, I could’ve been giving you the tips.”

Steve’s jaw fell slack, looking down at you with an expression that you’d never seen before. It was like he was trying to recall the timeline of events, how excited you were to talk about his virginity at the time because you’d already lost yours. 

“Oh my God. You sneaky little shit.” Steve spoke through his teeth at the realisation, but his smile that was growing against his lips was telling a different story. 

His hand lifted again from the sheet to knock into your shoulder, but your arm caught it this time, shoving him back playfully. The two of you wrestled back and forth with your arms, one of your legs raising to kick at him as you cursed at each other through your laughter. 

Somehow, the space between you on the bed had closed. Now, you were inches apart and sharing the same pillow, and Steve’s hand was sat aimlessly against your waist while yours rested comfortably against the span of his hair that laid against his chest.

The two of you were slightly out of breath from the laughter and the push and pull of each other. And the breaths that you were exhaling, Steve was inhaling. His eyes were glued to yours, both of you laid there in silence. The sound of the crickets in the grass outside and the sparse cars driving past Steve’s house filling the room around you. 

You tried your absolute hardest to pull yourself away from him, to pull your eyes from his and roll over and go to sleep but you couldn’t. Not when his fingertips were tracing small circles against your back, especially when he tipped his chin forward ever so slightly that his nose brushed against yours. 

Steve’s eyes pulled from yours, and you watched them glance down to your lips. You could feel your heartbeat in every nerve across your body, you could feel it in your throat and in your palm that was pressed against Steve’s chest. 

You felt Steve’s head tilt into the pillow, ever so slightly to the right. And your brain was screaming at you no, to pull away. But you didn’t. 

But as soon as you tilted your head, and you felt the warmth of Steve’s breath against your lips, the two of you simultaneously broke out into laughter. 

Your head ducked into the curve of his neck as you giggled, and you felt Steve’s head lean back as he swore under his breath. You pushed on his chest, rolling him on his back and you leant yourself up on your elbow, and when you looked down at him he was still laughing, his hand leaving the curve of your waist to wipe at the tears that had fallen from his eyes. 

“What the fuck, Steve?” You spoke breathlessly, still working through your laughter before falling flat on the bed next to him. 

He shrugged his shoulders gently, turning his head into the pillow to look over at you with a small smile across his lips. “I have a pretty girl in my bed, Worm. What do you expect me to do?”

You could only roll your eyes at him, still huffing a few laughs as your gaze landed up on the ceiling above you, lifting your hand up from between you to gently pat at his forearm as another wave of giggles washed over the both of you.

But when you fell asleep that night, you didn’t make it into the guest room. 

You were happily tucked under Steve’s arm, his chest being the most comfortable pillow that you’ve ever slept on. The warmth of his body keeping you at peace, the gentle rise and fall of his chest and the quiet snores whistling from his nose being the perfect soundtrack for you to fall asleep to. 

They told you that you should be talking to someone about how you feel or spending more time with family as you weren’t seeing him anymore, but your immediate thought was to have an escape from everyone that knew you. It sounded easier than sitting down and awkwardly having to explain that Steve was disappearing due to him going into a ‘darker version of Hawkins with alien-like creatures’ which led you to breakup with him in the first place.

You’d been curled up on the sofa in the living room with your parents on the sofa opposite you, and you’d been slowly trying to bring up that you wanted to sign up for an open space to become a scout leader without rushing into the conversation too quickly. You needed to make sure that they were in a good mood before you possibly ruined it or made it worse.

“Mandy is waiting on me to tell her if I’ll be signing up for the scout leader position.” You finally managed out and shifted on the sofa, flashing them a small, awkward smile. “There’s still space for me to join.”  

Your mother sighed and folded the corner of the page in her book, placing it down on the arm of the chair. “You’re putting yourself up to do something that you need to commit to. You can’t pull out a few weeks in because it’s too tiring or it’s not what you were thinking it was going to be. I don’t think this is a good way to get your mind off that boy either.”

“I want to do it, mom. I went to scouts for years and you know that I really enjoyed it. It’s the same thing, but I’ll be leading activities instead.” You replied, glancing down at the floor. “And I’m doing this because I want to, not for any other reason.” You mumbled.

She smiled at you, shaking her head. “I was young like you too once, you know.”

“And what? At least I’m not going out to party and drink. I could be doing that instead if you’d like. I think you should be appreciating this more.” You huffed, stretching your legs out on the sofa.

“Be nice to your mother.” Your dad said sternly, glancing at you over his glasses that might as well have been completely off his nose.

You glanced at your dad, then back to your mother with a sigh. “I’m doing nothing else at the moment. I really want to.”

“What about being with family?” Your mother asked.

Your parents were always the type to want to have quality family time together. They were always the first to host Christmas meals at their house where everyone in your family would come over to eat and play board games. If you were to ever suggest eating dinner anywhere that wasn’t the dining room with them, you were pretty sure that they would disown you.

“It’s not like I’m going to disappear from this house, mom. Scout meetups are a few times a week for a few hours, and they go camping every few months. I’ll still be here.” You reassured her. “I’m twenty. I’m not a kid anymore.”

“Yet you’re still living under our roof.” Your dad shrugged, clearly only speaking when he has something snarky to say.

Your mother sat forward, resting her elbows on her knees and clasping her hands together. “I’m used to you being with us all the time. You’re growing up.” Her voice wavers, and there was clearly more to it than wanting you to healthily manage your breakup.

For a second, your chest felt tight hearing the change in her voice, but you couldn’t give in and hold back on something that had been on your mind for weeks. “Mom...” You sighed, watching the sad look on her face. “I know that you don’t want me to go anywhere, but I need to at some point, otherwise I’ll be stuck here bored out of my mind doing nothing with myself.”

She went silent for a few seconds, listening to your dad rustle the pages of his magazine, and you were bracing yourself for her to come up with another way for you to not go. “How long is this for and are you sure that you would really like to do this? You can’t stay in bed if you’re feeling lazy when you’re supposed to be out with the kids.” She asked.

“I can stay as a leader for as long as I want, I don’t think there’s a limit. I’d at least like a few years. I’d get some really nice experience. I don’t know how else I can get you to agree with me. I really wanna sign up for this.” You nodded quickly, basically begging her at that point as your last resort. “Please, mom.”

Her eyes darted to your dad who just shrugged, but it wasn’t a no which was a good sign. She tilted her head to the side with a surprisingly gentle look on her face. “This doesn’t mean that you’re escaping our family time though.”

Your face lit up and you quickly pushed yourself up from the sofa, padding over to your mother, and leaning down to wrap your arms around her. It was the least that you could do so she didn’t change her mind. “I could never miss it. Thank you, mom.”

You decided to stay downstairs with your parents for a little longer so that you didn’t make it too obvious that you were only there to ask about signing up. As it started to get further into the night, you crept upstairs to your bedroom and pulled the application that Mandy gave to you ‘just in case’ out from your drawer, grabbing a pen and filling in all the details.

There were more forms that you needed to sign and some training you had to do before you became an official leader, but it seemed pretty sweet to you that you’d be reliving your childhood, but as a leader that you used to look up to instead. It would be something that you could proudly put on forms for future jobs.

You’d be shaping kid’s lives, watching them try out new things and seeing how their faces light up, just like yours did when you were in their position years ago. They’d learn something valuable that they could wave around and show off to their friends which most kids wouldn’t be learning if they were constantly in their homes.

Your finger traced under your writing on the application, checking that everything was correct before quickly scribbling your signature down at the bottom. Life sounded less dull knowing that you’d be lighting fires, securing helmets on children’s heads for rock climbing, pitching tents, kayaking through rivers and hopefully not tipping over instead of being in your home all day, rethinking your whole life.

It all came back to this being an escape to forget about Steve, because the awful thing about it was that he really was sweet until he came out with these childish responses, and that’s what you couldn’t wrap your head around. He was careful with you, and he had to fuck that up. You didn’t want to ever find out the real reason for his distance. It was probably best to never find out.

Every year, towards the end of the summer, all the scout groups in your area come together to host a huge three-night camp to celebrate the children’s and leader’s achievements. It was a way for the kids to show off the skills they have learned or a chance for new starters to learn something new and to earn badges they haven’t had the chance to get.

The coach journey on the way to the campsite was always one of the best parts. All the kids were chanting words, singing songs they made up on the spot, counting how many silver-coloured cars they could see, asking the driver ‘how long until we’re there?’ and groaning when the driver replied with ‘soon’. One of the kids came to the front of the coach to sit beside you because his tummy felt uneasy which happened every time.

Once the coach started rocking and bumping over the pebbles and branches, your head turned to look out the window and the campsite came into view. There were already other coaches parked up further into the campsite with the other Scout groups stepping off to set up their tents for the next few days.

The coach started to slow down along the rocky path, and the cabins in the centre of the camp started to come into view. All the leaders get to stay in a cabin whilst the children stay in a tent. It’s an unfair advantage that gets spoken about every year, but you always shrug and tell the kids that it wasn’t a decision that you made. In the centre, there’s a huge cabin with toilets, a seating area, self-catering area and a room for any emergencies or accidents.

As soon as the coach came to a stop in the parking area, you whip your head around and see all the children already unbuckling their belts and getting up to grab their bags from the overhead compartment which you had clearly told them not to do before you set off.

“Okay, okay! Everyone take a seat.” You rush to stand up and call out so that the children at the back can hear you. “No pushing. When the row in front of you have grabbed their bags, then you can get up and get yours.” You say, shaking your head. “Christopher! What did I just say? Sit back down.”

Christopher grins at you from the aisle, slowly moving back to his seat. “I’m very sorry, your highness. I won’t do that again.”

The children start to giggle between each other at his comment, and you press the heel of your palms to your eyes with a sigh, then turning to the driver who looks horrified, pulling a laugh from you.

“I’ll help you unload the bags in the luggage compartment, makes this easier and quicker for the both of us.” You say with a small smile.

He lets out a relieved sigh, opening the doors. “Thank you.”

For the next twenty minutes, you spend your time taking out bags from the compartment at the side of the coach, waving them in the air for the children to come collect them. The children are already distracted, getting impatient because you’re spending too much time grabbing everyone’s bags.

Once you passed the final bag over, the driver slams the compartment shut and thanks you a few times before sprinting back onto the coach. You walk over to your group that decided not to listen to you and wander off after they collected their bags. Their shoes are already covered in dirt, and you haven’t done anything remotely messy yet.

You sigh, adjusting the bag on your shoulders. “I encourage you all to go to the toilet before you do anything. We had a long journey, and I don’t want anyone to be complaining that they need to go when we’re halfway through an activity. Do I need to repeat myself?” You ask, looking around.

They collectively nod, earning quiet ‘yes’s from some of the children.

“Good. The toilets are in the main cabin in the centre. Place your bags in the seating area for the time being, then we’ll get the tents set up.” You confirm with a smile, leading them over to the cabin.

The main cabin is already busy, and you suspect that all the groups haven’t arrived yet. There are children already running laps around the outside of the cabin and leaders leaning against the railing with mugs in their hands. You step inside and hold the door open for your group, waiting for them to set their bags down and make their way to the toilets.

It heavily smells of pinewood mixed with coffee from the self-catering area. You glance around the room until your eyes land on Mandy, the main leader of your group, and walk up to her with a sweet smile, gently tapping her shoulder.

Mandy turns around and almost jumps back like she’s surprised you made it here in one piece. “I was beginning to think you weren’t going to make it. How was the journey?” She asks with a grin, placing her coffee down on the table and patting the side of your arm.

You suck in a breath. “The kids talking each other’s ears off as usual. My instructions went through one ear and straight out the other, apparently. How was setting up?”

She gives you a look that already tells you she’s ready to be up and out of here. Her hand comes up to cover her mouth so nobody can see or hear what she’s saying. “Oh, it was awful. All these leaders have badges that I’m surprised they have. Nobody was cooperating. So much for being a leader.” She mumbles.

“I’m glad I wasn’t setting up this year then.” You laugh.

“They’ve picked an awful spot for camping this year. I’ll be shocked if they even did a risk assessment on this place.” She rolls her eyes. “I’m so glad that we get to pick where camp is next year.”

You nod. “I trust that you’ll pick somewhere nicer.”

A man calls out from behind Mandy. “Hey, we need some help over here.”

She flashes a quick smile to the man and then shoots you a helpless look as she follows him. You settle down on a wooden chair nearby, crossing your leg over the other whilst you wait for your group to finish up. The main doors into the cabin open and a man steps inside with a heavy looking backpack that surely looks like it’s going to knock him over.

He shrugs his bag off his shoulders and places it down beside a chair with a grunt. When he turns around to brush the crease in his trousers, it almost knocks the air from your lungs. Your stomach twists and you turn your head to the side as if he won’t work out who you are that way, glancing at him from the corner of your eye.

The reason you were sat here in the first place is sat in front of you, and you have no idea if he’s up to something or if he innocently signed up for this. After a few seconds of trying to avoid his gaze, you can see his eyes land on you and how he freezes. You swallow, rolling your eyes before narrowing your eyes at him, trying to work out why he’s here.

“Steve.” You say coldly. “You’re kidding, right?”

He presses his lips together, awkwardly glancing around the room, then his eyes drop to the floor.

You raise your eyebrows. “Are you back to convince me that you were attacked by aliens and you saved the day in your little fairytale?” You scoff. “You’re such a child, Steve. It’s honestly pathetic.”

His eyes dart to yours helplessly. “Don’t mention that. Don’t ruin this.”

“Ruin this?” You laugh. “You’re acting like you didn’t ruin a whole lot of shit for me two years ago. Why are you even here? I didn’t think this was your type of thing. Thought you’d be sticking to partying, not camping.”

“I volunteered myself.” He says quietly like it’s something he should be ashamed of.

A laugh slips from you again. “No way. I’ve got to be in another world right now. Maybe it’s the one with all the monsters you warned me about.” You quip.

His shoulders slump and he brushes his hands against his trousers. “Are you going to be like this the whole time we are here?” He asks.

You shrug. “Depends.”

Before he can ask you anything else, your group comes rushing back into the seating area and he clears his throat, standing up and walking away. He turns his head around to look at you, only for you to still be looking at him, and he quickly whips his head back around to focus on the self-catering station.

You stand up from your chair, dropping your gaze to all the children in front of you with a small smile, trying to forget that your ex-boyfriend is in the same room as you. “Have we got everyone here? Where’s Lizzie?”

“She’s still in the toilet.” Sally says from beside you.

“Could you go and tell her to be a little faster? We need to stick together.” You ask.

Sally nods and stumbles her way through the crowd of people, disappearing into the toilets. She comes back out a few seconds later with Lizzie flapping her wet hands about, trying to dry her hands quicker. They stand in front of you and you do a head count, checking that you’ve got everyone.

“Perfect. Grab your bags. Let’s set up.” You say, grabbing your bag and quickly glancing over at Steve before you head outside.

After a long trek down the site to find an open area, the children set their bags down and their gear to pitch their tents. You help the children clear out the sticks and rocks in the area so that it’s flat enough to keep the tents stable. One of the children comes up beside you, leaning down to grab the twigs scattered around.

“Who was that man you were talking to before?” Sally asks curiously.

You turn your head to face her with a small smile, even though the thought of him right now is making you feel uneasy. “He was an old friend of mine. I haven’t seen him in a long, long time.” You reply with a half-lie. You weren’t looking to explain to a young teenager about a relationship you had when it shouldn’t be something she should be thinking about yet.

“You looked like you were angry at him.” She says, and you pause.

Your shoulders drop and you sigh. “Did I?” You ask, trying to sound like you didn’t know you looked angry, when you were very much more than angry at Steve.

She nods, holding her stack of twigs and sticks close to her. “Did he do something wrong?”

“Nothing that you should worry about.” You smile, gently rubbing her back. “We’re going to be pitching the tents in a moment, so you can place the sticks somewhere away from our area. Preferably in a place where nobody will trip over them.”

She flashes you a quick smile and hurries back over to her friends with a quiet giggle. They probably saw something that you didn’t catch, and you were mortified about whatever questions they were going to ask you over the next few days. You walk over to the camping gear and clap a few times to gain their attention.

“Quick re-run over the rules.” You call out and they shuffle along to you. “There are four of you allowed in each tent. We have an odd number, so three is okay, but we can’t have five. There’s not enough space for five in a tent.”

The children are looking at each other, waving at their friends as they silently work out who they want in their tents. Some of them silently start moving towards their friends, wrapping their arms around each other like you’re going to pull them away if they don’t.

“Are we allowed to switch tents with our friends, so we all have a turn?” Robert asks.

You slowly nod. “I’ll say yes, but you’re responsible for moving your own gear and items and if there’s any drama over switching, then I’ll stop you from switching at all. Any more questions?” You ask, and they go silent. “Okay. Let’s pitch the tents. Help each other out, that’s what you’re all here for.”

They grab their gear from beside your feet and rush to a space to claim it. Your group have a lot of practice with pitching tents, and if needed, they can help the newer children who aren’t sure what to do. The point of this camp is to show skills, and teamwork is definitely up there.

As you’re walking around to check in on the groups setting their tents up, you can hear cheers and giggles coming from somewhere nearby. You turn around on your heel to see another Scout group coming to set up beside yours, and then you see Steve slowly trailing behind them with their gear in his hands, looking grumpier than ever.

“You alright over there?” You laugh at Steve. “You look like you’re struggling.”

He huffs, gripping the bags tighter. “I’m fine, thanks.”

“Do they not have their own hands to carry their things?” You ask as he walks past you.

“Doesn’t look like it.” He grumbles, grunting as he placed the gear on the floor, stretching his arms out.

His group seem to be using him as their own personal assistant, holding their bags and now attempting to pitch their tents that they don’t look that bothered trying to do. You’ve been standing watching him try to set up one of the children’s tents for the past five minutes, but he keeps sighing to himself and convincing the children that he’s ‘got it’.

You glance at your group who have already pitched their tents, and they’re sitting inside them, sorting the sleeping bags. After a while of contemplating going to help Steve save himself from embarrassment and possibly ending up with the children sleeping on grass, you walk over to him.

He’s trying to push the poles through the tent, but the poles keep popping out of the tent, collapsing it. You stand beside him, assessing what’s in front of you. “Have you ever pitched a tent before?” You ask, looking him up and down.

He clears his throat, folding his arms over his chest. “No, I haven’t.”

“I can tell.” You murmur, glancing at the collapsed tent.

“Why’d you ask me then?” He sighs, rubbing his hand against the side of his face.

You grin. “Because you’ve been making a right fool out of yourself in front of everyone for the past ten minutes. It’s hilarious.”

“Help me out then.” He groans.

“Aw, that’s sweet. You’re asking me for help.” You tease, already leaning down to pick up the poles that popped out of place and securing them tightly. “It’s a tent, Steve. If you don’t secure the poles tight enough, of course it’s going to collapse. This is supposed to be able to get through all types of weather. I thought that would be obvious.”

His ears go red at your comment as he watches you thread the poles through the tent. “I know that. The poles just… weren’t tightening any further.” He replies. “Faulty.”

“Sure.” You drag out, pushing the poles into the ground. “Need the pegs.”

“What do they look like?” He asks, searching through the bag.

“Oh Jesus, Steve.” You sigh, looking over your shoulder. “They should be silver and look like a hook.”

He scrambles through the bag, metal clinking together, and he takes out a handful of pegs, placing them in the palm of your hand. You push a peg into the ground to secure the corner, then push yourself up to secure the other three. Once you’ve checked that the tent’s secured, you step back beside him and take a look at it.

You tilt your head to the side with a grin. “Think you can do that for the other tents?”

“Sure, I can. Seems easy.” He says confidently.

“If it was easy, you wouldn’t have been struggling to connect poles together, which isn’t even the hardest part of pitching a tent, by the way.” You add, pressing your lips together to suppress a laugh.

His eyes narrow at you and he drags his hand down his face, looking completely hopeless. “You’re making this sound worse than it is.”

“It’s pretty unfortunate that you can’t set up a tent. I’m looking forward to see you trying to do other things.” You flash a mocking smirk at him.

“This is like a field day for you.” He sighs.

You shrug with a smile. “Have fun pitching the rest of your group’s tents. I expect to be back here in five minutes, tops.”

You walked back over to your group, smiling way too much for someone who’s only been here for two hours.

By the time the sun set behind the trees, all the Scout groups came together to sit around a fire that was much taller than you. Every group was tasked by the camp manager to grab as many logs and sticks as they could and bring them over. It became a competition between the children in your group that the person with the most sticks won, and it caused a lot of bickering whilst you were walking over.

Your group are sitting on the grass with blankets settled over their shoulders as they try to stay warm as the fire is doing nothing to keep anyone warm right now. The camp manager advised everyone to stay as far back from the fire to prevent anyone getting caught on fire, which was silly because the fire was mostly there for aesthetic more than for keeping everyone warm.

Steve’s group are beside you, which isn’t surprising. You’re convinced he’s going to be practically by your shoulder every day, and you don’t know whether to be angry that he’s doing this or keep mocking him. He’s been glancing at you all night, then looking away when you look over at him. He’s not subtle at all, and that only makes it funnier.

His group move to sit around him, breaking the main circle that connected all the Scout groups together. You glance at him, then at your group, watching as they stop their conversations between each other to see what Steve’s group is up to.

He notices that your group’s attention is on him, and his eyes dart to yours. You’re about to say something to take offence of this betrayal, but his voice cuts through. “Would you like to listen to a spooky story?” He asks your group, and they nod quickly, already shuffling over to mix with Steve’s group.

You huff and roll your eyes, shuffling yourself over with your group because there was nothing better that you could come up with anyway. He only smiles at your reaction, his eyes staying on you for a moment.

“Does it contain monsters in this story?” You ask, clearly referencing what he told you two years ago.

“You’ll have to see.” He shrugs, leaning against the log behind him. “There was once a girl that was walking through the woods to get back home.”

You roll your eyes, mumbling. “Cheesy.”

He shoots a look at you. “My story is anything but cheesy, thank you.” He replies, turning back to the children. “Anyway. She stumbled across a house in the middle of the woods with all the lights on. It had vines growing on the walls and it was old looking. She decided to check out the house and saw that the front door was open.”

One of the children huddled up in the group calls out. “Why would she go look?!”

Steve grins and continues. “She walked up to the front door and knocked once, waiting for someone to respond, but nobody responded so she knocked again. Again, there was no answer. She pushed the door open and stepped inside. The house was nicely decorated with paintings hung on the walls.”

The children are all leaning forward, their attention set on Steve. This is probably the one time that they’re going to be listening to something that’s been said to them.

“She decided to look around the house, so she walked through the living room. There was a coffee cup on the table, so it was clear someone was inside there recently. She continued to walk through the house, checking out the kitchen and looking through cupboards.”

His voice started to deepen, and though you swore to yourself that some children’s story wasn’t going to scare you, you could feel goosebumps prickling at your skin. You wanted to blame it on him dragging out the story.

“Then she decided to walk upstairs, dragging her hand along the hand railing. She stopped at the top, looking left and right. To her left, there was a long hallway leading to a room at the end, and to her right, there was a bathroom. She stepped into the bathroom to look around. The bathtub was pristine and everything was neatly set out.” He continued, glancing around at the children.

“This doesn’t sound scary.” A child says confidently.

“She stepped out the bathroom and wandered down the long hallway, slowly pushing the door open. It was a huge bedroom. Everything in there was white. The walls, wardrobe, dressing table and the bed. Then she noticed that there was a bump under the covers of the bed.” He said as a whisper.

The children gasped, gripping onto each other, holding them close.

“She walked up to the bed, placing her hand on the corner of the covers and then… BOO!” He lurches forward with a loud scream that was surely going to capture the attention of the other groups, causing all the children to jump, pulling a laugh from him.

You flinch backwards, your heart hammering against your ribs, placing your hands beside you on the grass. His eyes land on you and he laughs, sliding his hand through his hair. “Scared, huh?” He asks.

You clear your throat, shaking your head and rolling your eyes. “Be quiet, Steve. That wasn’t scary. I wasn’t scared.”

“Sure, you weren’t.” He grins, proud of himself.

“What happened next?” Christopher asks.

Steve turns to look at him. “The rest is unknown.”

All the children gasp, leaning into each other to whisper. You awkwardly brush your hands on your legs, glancing at your group. “I think it’s time you all head back to your tents now. We have a long day tomorrow.” You say quietly, pushing yourself to stand up.

They all whine and groan at your comment, slowly getting up from the grass.

“You’ll be thanking me tomorrow, I promise.” You add, doing a quick head count.

Steve stands up, brushing the grass that was stuck to his trousers. “Did you like my story?” He grins.

“I’ve heard better, Steve.” You murmur, leading your group to their tents, turning your flashlight on as it started to get dark.

Once you made sure that they were settled down in their tents, earning a few complaints because it was ‘too early’, you head to your cabin. You stepped inside and closed the door behind you, walking straight over to your bed and flopping backwards. You weren’t sure whether to hope for the days to go quickly or for them to drag for as long as they could.

The birds on the window ledge of your cabin woke you up early in the morning. You’d barely sat up in bed, and you already heard the kayaks being dragged across the grass and water splashing as people jumped in. The best part about camp was that there was no strict timetable, but activities ran all day which meant you could stay in bed for an extra five minutes.

You eventually slipped out of bed and quickly pulled on baggy shorts and a T-shirt that slipped from your shoulder. The main cabin was packed with leaders sitting in the seating area, deep in conversation. You walked over to the self-catering area and picked up a mug, turning the kettle on and waiting for the water to boil.

You’ve barely had time to process that Steve’s here, and he’s always around, wherever you look. He’s stood in a corner, leaning against the windowsill, sipping his drink. The kettle clicking pulls your gaze away from Steve and you pour the water into your cup, stirring the coffee.

Mandy walks over to you with a more cheerful smile than yesterday. “Morning.”

“Morning.” You grin, leaning against the wall.

“I know I said that this campsite was awful, but the beds are really comfy, so I’ll give them that.” She says, raising her cup in the air.

You nod, taking a sip of your coffee. “Felt like I was back at home, honestly. The cabins are really cozy. I’m glad we get a pass and don’t get to sleep in a tent.”

“I’m thankful for that every time we camp.” She replies, glancing around the room, then back at you. “That guy has had his eyes on you for a long time, by the way.”

“Who?” You ask.

She nods her head backwards, gesturing to Steve. “Him.”

You glance at Steve who’s looking at you, and he quickly turns his head around, pretending to look through his pockets. “Right, yeah. Him.” You murmur.

“Now you’ve got to tell me.” She says curiously.

“Another time, another time.” You laugh. “This is not the place for me to be speaking about it.”

“Right, but I will keep pestering you.” She grins, sipping her coffee. “We’re on kayaking today. I’ve made sure that our kayaks are safe, and they’re waiting to be used.”

Your head drops dramatically. “I have to do the honors of bringing them there and trying to get them to be sensible with the kayaks, how fun.”

She nudges your side with her elbow. “You’ll do great. I’ll be taking over to do the nature trail later tonight, anyway.”

“My savior.” You laugh.

When you finally reached the group’s tents after a long, five-minute walk from the main cabin to their area, they were already out of their tents and dressed, playing noughts and crosses with sticks in the mud. You clap your hands together to gain their attention, and they drop their sticks.

“I’ll be going through this once, so listen up because I won’t be repeating myself. This morning you will be kayaking with me. Then we’ll be going to the cabin for lunch. You’ll have an hour of free time, as long as you’re staying on the grounds and behaving appropriately. Then Mandy will be taking you on a nature trail in the afternoon.” You say, clasping your hands together.

Then their questions started to flood in, and you could barely make out what anyone was saying to you.

“Whoa, whoa. One at a time.” You laugh and then point at Robert. “Go on.”

“Are we allowed to swim?” He asks.

You shake your head. “Not in the part of the river that we’re heading to, no.” Then you point to Sally.

“Did you like the spooky story last night?” She asks, earning giggles from the rest of the group.

“It was okay.” You say, trying to hold in a laugh. “Are there any serious questions?” You ask, watching as their hands drop down and you nod. “Let’s get going.”

Once you arrived at the dock by the river, the kayaks were already in the water, the paddles settled on top. The life jackets were hung up on pegs beside the dock, so you get your group to line up whilst you pass them the jackets and secure them tightly. As you’re finishing tightening the last life jacket, Steve appears in front of you with an awkward smile on his face, his group behind him.

“Oh, today is my lucky day.” You sigh, grabbing a life jacket for yourself and slipping it on.

He reaches behind you to grab the life jackets, passing them to his group. “Incredibly lucky.”

If you thought it was bad enough having to see Steve whilst you were in the cabin or gathering with your group at their tents, then kayaking was a whole lot worse. You got your group into their kayaks and had to pair one of your children with one of the children in Steve’s group as they were double kayaks, and you needed to fill space.

When all the children were in, you walked along the dock to get to your kayak with Steve trailing behind you, tightening his life jacket. You paused as you looked around the water, only seeing one kayak.

“Really? Are you kidding me?” You groan.

He peers over the fence. “Only one left, huh?”

“I’m so glad that you have eyes too, Steve.” You huff, looking around again like one will appear in front of you if you look hard enough. “Front or back?” You ask, folding your arms as you turn to face him.

He blinks at you. “What?”

“Steve.” You whine. “Front or back of the kayak before I change my mind.”

“Back.” He replies. “I don’t think I’ll be good at the front if I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m not experienced with kayaking in the slightest.”

You grip onto the dock, slowly lowering yourself down into the front of the kayak. “Of course, you’re not. I’m not shocked.” You mutter.

He lowers himself into the back of the kayak, holding onto his paddle. “I’m honestly quite shocked that you’re letting me in the same kayak as you.”

You gently push off the dock so that you have enough room to paddle. “Don’t get yourself too excited. There was only one kayak left, and you’re not allowed to leave your group unsupervised. I’m only doing this because we have no choice.” You mumble. “Legally.”

As your groups are already off down the river, paddling away, way ahead of you, you’ve barely made it past the dock. Steve’s been trying to use the paddle, but he’s only been pushing you backwards into the rocks.

You look over your shoulder. “Steve, are you even watching what I’m doing?”

“I am. Have some sympathy. This is my first time kayaking.” He huffs.

“We’re not in sync at all. You need to be paddling in sync with me.” You sigh, facing forwards again. “Just keep your paddle still whilst I at least try get us closer to the kids, then you can try again. Watch what I do.”

He sets his paddle down and you start to paddle down the lake, eventually catching up with the children who turned their heads around to laugh at you. Steve laughs from behind you, seeing you get so frustrated.

“They’re laughing at you too, Steve.” You snapped, only making the children laugh more.

They continued to paddle down the river, pointing out otters that are laid on their backs, probably having more fun than you are. Eventually, Steve starts to paddle too, getting the hang of the movements and following what you do. Your paddle swoops under water, coming up and splashing Steve in the face.

“Hey, you got me wet.” He grumbles, brushing his hand over his face.

You grin, turning your head around. “You were bound to get wet at some point, Steve. You’re on a river.”

He rolls his eyes and waits for you to continue paddling before he starts moving side to side, making the kayak rock. You stop paddling and brace your hands on either side of the kayak.

“Steve!” You squeal, water sloshing around you as he rocks the kayak.

“What? I thought we were supposed to get wet on a river?” He teases.

You whip your head around, shooting him a glare. “If we end up in the water because of you, I swear to God.”

When you completed a lap around the river, being the last kayak to get back to the dock, you were quick to get out of the kayak, pushing yourself up and drying off. You didn’t hear the end of it from the children. They were relentless about you and Steve failing to get around the river in shape. You were crowned as the losers for the rest of the day, which you could agree was deserved.

Some of the other Scout group leaders saw you and Steve trying to get around the river together too, and their comments were worse. You wanted to go into your cabin and stay there until the coaches arrived on the last day.

At least Steve got something fun out of it, because clearly, he was more bothered about getting a laugh out of everyone instead of taking it seriously and trying to kayak. He was still the same Steve he was years ago, and you hated that you enjoyed seeing him this way. It almost made you forget that you broke up, and you don’t have this version of him anymore.

Everyone was up and out of their tents and cabins as soon as the sun rose the next morning. The heat from the sun was sweltering, and there was no air conditioning in the cabins. You had woken up in a hot sweat, immediately kicking the covers off, running to open a window.

When it was hot during camp, the only way to cool off was to jump into the water, which you were sure was going to be packed with people, and that’d only make it feel hotter. You dress in a pair of blue shorts and a tank top before rushing out of your cabin, making your way down to the lake.

As you walked along the path by the side of the lake, you saw your group dipping into the water, some sat on the rocks with their feet dipped in, and the others splashing each other to cool down. You looked around to see many camp managers around with hi-vis on and whistles around their necks, so you took the opportunity to keep walking around and find somewhere quieter.

You pad down a dock further along the river, settling down on the edge and taking your shoes off, placing them to the side and dipping your feet in. Your body instantly relaxes, and you swish your feet around in the water. A familiar voice comes from behind you, and you don’t need to turn around.

“I see we’re on the same boat.” He says with a laugh. “Get it, because we’re on a dock?”

You roll your eyes with a grin. “Ha, ha. Very funny.” You say sarcastically.

He takes his shoes off, almost tripping over and losing his balance, and sits down beside you, dipping his feet into the water. His hand is too close to your hand. It might as well be on top of yours.

“It’s too crowded at the other end. There’s no way anyone is comfortable over there.” You say quietly.

“Yeah, that’s why I came over here. Figured it would be less busy.” He nods, glancing at you for a second. “Are you not going to get in?” He asks.

You tilt your head to the side. “I didn’t bring a swimsuit with me, and I’m not walking back to my cabin dripping in water. I’ll save myself.”

“Everyone will be doing the same.” He shrugs. “I will be doing the same.”

“Well, you’re not me, Steve.” You smile, focusing on kicking your feet in the water. “I’m more than happy sitting up here with my feet in the water.”

He exhales through his nose, standing up and lifting his shirt off his head so he’s just in his shorts. “Suit yourself.”

He jumps off the edges of the dock into the water, coming up to the surface with his hair stuck to his forehead, spitting the water out. You roll your eyes and brush the water away from your face. Your eyes flick down to the deep scarring on his neck below his moles that you’ve never seen before, and you can’t push down the worry that’s growing inside you.

You clear your throat and look back at his face, trying not to focus on the scars. “When did you become a Scout leader, anyway?” You ask.

“Around seven months ago.” He replies, treading water.

Your eyebrows raise, surprised. “Wow. That actually sounds like a long time for you. I’m shocked you’ve lasted this long as a leader.”

“The kids are fun when they’re not ignoring me.” He sighs. “They’re yet to take me seriously for once.”

“They seemed to take you pretty seriously when you were telling that spooky story the other night.” You grin, resting your hands on the edges of the dock.

He smiles and shakes his head. “That was a first and a last. They only listen if Colin is talking, the other leader.”

“It was the same with my group for a while. They’ll get used to you eventually.” You say, flashing him a small smile. “I mean, I’m not shocked that they don’t take you seriously though. You’re Steve.” You laugh.

“What’s that meant to mean?” He asks.

How he doesn’t know about the effect that he has on people is slightly shocking. He can effortlessly make everyone laugh, every room that he walks into. He’s done that for years.

You shift on the dock, resting your hands on your lap. “Don’t twist my words and think that I’m being friendly with you, but you’re really funny without meaning to be. You’re an idiot that can make anyone laugh. It’s stupid, really. Nobody can take you seriously when you’re making them laugh.” You admit quietly, already regretting potentially boosting his ego.

“You’re definitely being friendly with me.” He grins.

You kick your foot under the water, splashing his face with a laugh. “Like I said, don’t twist my words.”

“Right, right, whatever.” He smiles, rubbing the water from his eyes. “I always knew you’d end up signing up to be a leader, but when did this happen?”

“Two years ago.” You sigh, your shoulders dropping. “It took a lot of convincing my parents to get here. They really wanted me to stay with them.”

He presses his lips together. “Sounds like your parents, alright. You’re old enough to be making your own decisions.”

“Believe it or not but I said the exact same thing to them.” You laugh, your eyes flicking down to the scars on his neck again.

The conversation between you both went on for a while until the camp manager blew the whistle and you had to get up to meet up with your groups for the next activities, even through the heat. He pushed himself up onto the dock and threw his shirt over his shoulder, walking beside you to the main area.

Whilst you were doing the next activity with the children, your mind and eyes couldn’t help but wander back over to Steve. It felt like nothing had changed whilst you were updating each other on your lives since being apart. You felt sick thinking about the scars on Steve’s neck, and you felt a strong urge to find out what happened.

Later in the night, you tried to get yourself settled down in bed, but you only sat against the headboard, staring at your door. The scars on Steve’s neck were practically burned into your eyes, and you felt uneasy going to sleep to never find out. You padded over to your window, looking outside to see a few people with their flashlights walking down the path, probably the last people to get into their cabins.

For a few moments, you paced around your cabin, not caring so much if your movements wake anyone up, trying to fight back the urge to have all your questions answered overnight. You cave in and slip your shoes on, grabbing your jacket from the hook and opening the door, quietly closing it behind you.

You remembered where Steve’s cabin was as you’ve given the cabin annoyed glances every time you’ve watched him walk in or out over the past few days. Once you reach his cabin, you quietly walk up the steps and knock on his door, hoping that he’s awake. The door opens seconds after, he’s standing in a T-shirt and shorts, his hair still messy from the lake. His mouth goes wide open, unable to form words.

“I know it’s late, don’t tell me. Can I come inside?” You ask. “Please?”

He nods quickly, stepping to the side. “Yeah, yeah, of course.”

You walk inside, brushing your shoes against the mat beneath your feet, and he closes the door behind you. He stands closely in front of you, his hand hovering over your side, looking more confused than he ever has.

“The scars on your neck, where are they from?” You swallow.

His eyes glass over and he shakes his head with a scoff. “We are not going there, not tonight. I’m not looking for having an argument over this again.”

“What do you mean again? This is the first time I’ve asked you about this.” You ask, squinting your eyes at him.

“Because my answer is something that you think I’m lying about, and I don’t want to see you walk away from me because of it again.” He chokes out.

You freeze hearing the crack in his voice. There was no way that whatever he had to say was a lie if he’s being this vulnerable in front of you, and if he is lying, then you’ll give it to him that he’s a pretty good actor.

“Tell me.” You say, more quietly.

He shakes his head. “I’m not arguing with you over this again. It’s not worth it.”

You look down at the ground for a moment, then back into his eyes. “I’ll listen, Steve. No matter how insane you’re going to sound.” You say, gently taking his arm and already leading him over to his bed before he can say no, sitting down on the edge.

“Please listen.” He whispers, gently placing his hand on top of yours when you nod. “When I was constantly disappearing and not letting you know where I was, it was for your safety. I didn’t want you to come out and look for me only to get hurt. I wasn’t going to sit there and let anything come for you.” He swallows, squeezing your hands tighter. “So, when you asked me to be honest, I couldn’t lie to you.”

You nod slowly, letting him continue.

“I know it sounds like some fantasy. I get it, it sounded like a fantasy to me too until I saw it all, but everything that I told you was real. Since then, I lost more friends in that place. My friends have lost their friends there too. Part of me was glad that you didn’t believe me, because that way you were safe, but I lost you, which was one of the things I tried so hard to stop from happening.” His voice breaks.

Your thumb brushes over the back of his hand. “So, the scars are from one of the… creatures there?” You ask, the word sounding weird on your tongue.

He nods. “It was a bat. Not the kind of bats that you see here, though. I wouldn’t say that’s the worst scar I have.” He says, slightly lifting his shirt to show you the scars on his sides and over his stomach.

Your eyes widen. “Jesus, fuck, Steve. I don’t know how I never saw those.”

He shrugs, letting his shirt flop down. “They’re definitely not the most beautiful sight.”

You look into his eyes, your lip trembling. “I don’t even… I feel sick. You were getting hurt and I left you on your own, during probably the most horrific time.”

His hand comes to your cheek, gently brushing away a tear that you didn’t realize slipped. “No, baby. I understood why you didn’t believe me, because I know that I do sound insane when I say it. I’m not blaming you for not believing something that doesn’t sound real.”

The nickname coming so effortlessly from his lips snapped something inside you, and your arms carefully come around him, burying your face into his neck. “I’m still so sorry. You were hurt. I wasn’t there to help you.” You sob.

His hand gently comes through your hair, holding you close to him after years of not being able to hold you. “There’s nothing to be sorry for. I’m safe now. We are all safe now.”

He gently brings you closer, sitting you down in his lap, his hands resting on your waist. You slowly lift your head from his neck, your eyes glassy. “Nothing will hurt you again?”

“Nothing. We made sure of it.” He whispers.

Your face comes to his neck again, gently pressing your lips over one of the scars on his neck. His hands tighten on your waist, a soft gasp escaping from his lips. You pull back from his neck, and he immediately presses his lips to yours. Your hands slip into his hair as he deepens the kiss. He shifts and slowly lays you on your back on the bed, keeping his lips on yours.

His hand slides up your side to rest on your cheek whilst his tongue slips across yours, pulling a gasp from you. He slowly started to rut against you, and you felt your cheeks heat up at the sight, almost forgetting to take a breath. Your hand comes up to gently tug the sleeve of his shirt, and he pulls away from your lips for a moment, catching at your hint.

“Wanting this off?” He grins, and his cockiness is already back.

You nod quickly and he leans over you, slipping his shirt off, dipping down to kiss you again. He’s taking his time with you, and you don’t know if you want him to hurry up or keep at this pace as it’s been a while since you’ve had a moment like this. His lips brush against your collarbone and he gently slides a strap down your shoulder.

“Yes, off, please.” You gasp out.

He nods, pulling the other strap down and sitting you up for a moment to pull the tank top away. His lips come back down to your skin, trailing over your bra and down to your stomach, and then back to your lips again. Your fingers dig into his shoulders, a soft whine slipping from your lips.

His hand blindly comes down to your shorts, and he carefully tugs your shorts and panties down at the same time, throwing them behind him. One of your hands slips into his hair, pulling his head down and desperately pressing your lips to his again. You can feel him smiling against your lips and you feel the tears pricking at your eyes again.

Having him back under your touch again was something that you weren’t ever expecting to have again. You convinced yourself that he was making some silly remarks only to never speak to you again, but you were so glad that you were wrong. You’re always going to love him, even with how crazy his life got.

He pulls back again to pull his shorts down, his boxers going down with them too. A grunt falls from his lips as he presses himself against your skin. His forehead comes to your shoulder, his shoulders rising up and down with every heavy breath.

“I love you.” He manages out through the crack in his voice. “I never stopped. Even when I entered that… awful place, I thought of you. Not a day went by that I wasn’t wishing that you were safe.”

Your hand gently brushes the side of his face, then sliding back through his hair, brushing his hair out of his face. “I love you, Steve. I’m glad that you’re safe.”

A soft smile twitches at his lips and his lips press to yours before he murmurs against your lips. “Tell me want you want, baby.”

You whine into his mouth. “Want you inside me. Please.” You beg, trailing your hands down his back, pressing him closer to you.

He groans, pressing his forehead to yours. “Fuck, okay. I’ve got you. I’ve got you, baby.” He repeats, reaching down and stroking his cock, a strangled sound leaving his throat. “Y’gotta be quiet, baby.”

You nod and he nudges his cock between your folds, quietly cursing to himself, and he slowly pushes in as the both of you gasp. His hand comes to hold your hand that’s rested beside your head, and his other hand rests on your waist. He looks into your eyes desperately and you nod.

He took the opportunity to push further in with a desperate thrust, and his head drops to your shoulder again. Your hand gently squeezes his you get used to his little desperate thrusts. You needed a little time to adjust to him.

Once the pressure of your hand on his relaxes, he pressed his lips to yours as he began to roll his hips into yours, immediately hitting the most perfect spot. You hadn’t realized that you were making sounds until his hand on your waist comes to rest over your lips and he only thrusts deeper, grinning at you.

“There we go.” He coos, looking down between where your bodies meet for a moment before he looks back into your eyes, leaning down to press kisses along your jaw. “Doing so well for me, baby. So perfect.” He murmurs against your skin. “Fuck.”

You whine against his hand, your words coming out muffled. “So good, Steve.”

He removes his hand from your lips and quickly presses his lips to yours again to muffle both of your moans. His hands slip into both of your hands, tightly gripping them and pressing them down into the sheets. Your hands squeeze his as he shifts slightly and finds a different angle, his pace quickening.

Your hand tugs away to slip from his grip and you slide your hand between your bodies, adding pressure to your clit and rubbing messy circles with your fingertips. When he realized what you were doing, he groaned into your mouth, almost losing the pace that he set.

He murmurs against your lips. “Fuck, that’s hot.”

His hand comes to yours, removing your hand from between your bodies and replacing your hand with his, circling your clit at a brutally slow pace. You gently bite down on his plush lip. The slow pace he has on your clit mixed with his cock thrusting inside of you burns perfectly.

“Steve.” You whine.

He slightly pulls away from your lips, rubbing your clit a little quicker, watching the way your breathing hitches as you try hold back any sounds from slipping so that you don’t get a lecture from any of the leaders tomorrow. “Y’look so pretty, baby. Always so, so pretty.” He whispers. “I love you… fuck. You feel so good. Squeezing me so tight.” He gasps, gently biting on your lip to muffle the noises coming from him.

Your hands grip onto his back, trying to hold him as close as you can even with how sticky and humid the cabin is. “I missed you, Steve.” You mumble with a gasp. “I’m sorry for doubting you and being so angry. I’m not doing that again. You’re not a liar.” You admit softly.

His tongue slides across your lip. “I know, baby. I don’t blame you.” He murmurs, his thrusts getting deeper. “I won’t be disappearing like that again, any time soon. Unless disaster strikes again.” He grins.

Always trying to be funny, no matter where you are, and that includes in bed. You roll your eyes at his comment, gently swatting his bicep, though a little smile twitches at the corner of your lip. “Idiot.” You murmured breathlessly.

He laughs, pressing his lips to yours again, and he starts pounding into you rapidly, a muffled squeak coming from your throat. His body shudders on top of you as he feels you clench around him, and your hand slips up the back of his neck, gently rubbing slow circles below the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling the sweetest string of moans from him.

Steve’s always been vocal, and he would be a lot louder if it wasn’t in the middle of the night with other leaders nearby to his cabin. You can tell he’s struggling to keep quiet, and you can’t blame him. It’s been over two years since you’ve been able to do this, even months before you broke up.

You gasp into his mouth. “Steve. Fuck.” You squirm beneath him and his large hand settles on your stomach, gently pressing down. “I’m so close. You feel amazing. Fuck. Keep going. Keep going.” You repeat, rambling underneath him, your voice coming out as a whine.

He groans, pressing further inside of you. “Wanna feel you squeezing me.”

You gasp, tugging the hair at the nape of his neck. “Oh fuck… Steve.” You sob, your head dropping back on the pillows. “I’m coming. Oh, fuck! I’m coming.” You whine and he presses his lips to yours as you squeeze around him.

He whimpers into your mouth, and he weakly thrusted a few more times before stilling inside you, filling you up perfectly, shaking above you. You’re trembling beneath him, your breaths coming out uneven and shaky. He leans down, immediately pressing gentle kisses over your face, his hand sliding under your head to hold you close to himself.

For a moment, neither of you move, focusing on relaxing into each other. His hand on the back of your head strokes gentle circles, and he carefully pulls out, watching your face. He lays on his side, bringing you close to his chest, playing with your hair to soothe you.

“I love you.” He whispers, tucking your head into his chest. “Stay in here with me. We can talk more in the morning.”

You nod, your eyes fluttering. “Okay.” You whisper. “I love you.”

“Sleep, baby.” He murmurs.

For the rest of the night, he keeps you close in his arms whilst you both fall asleep. This wasn’t what you thought you’d be getting out of camp when you first saw Steve arrive, but it ended the final day of camp perfectly. You got to see the part of Steve that he kept quiet, and you listened, even though it felt weird to hear.

In the early hours of the morning, Steve woke you up with a few kisses on your face, and you could feel him grinning without having to look at him. You shifted in his arms, slowly opening your eyes. He leans his head back a little to get a better look at you and he flashes you a wide grin that you could say you missed.

“I know it’s pretty early, but I’d like for us to not deal with comments from the leaders whilst we’re in the main cabin.” He says sadly.

You raise your eyebrows. “Kicking me out so soon, huh? Pretty rude of you to do after last night. I’m taking full offence.” You joke.

He rolls his eyes, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips. “Y’know I’d love to keep you in here. You need to get to your cabin and pack your things, though. The coaches come pretty early, and you need to make sure your kids are awake and their tents are stored.”

“Let me guess, you’ll need help taking your group’s tents down?” You ask.

He huffs. “Possibly.”

“I’m glad to be of help.” You grin, pushing yourself to sit up.

He sits beside you, the covers pooling around your waists. Your clothes are halfway off the bed and on the floor. He pulls you in for a quick kiss before he lets you slip out of bed and pick up your clothes. You slip your shorts on and pull your tank top over your head, then you slip your shoes on and your jacket.

“I’ll see you if you make it to the tents in one piece.” You grin, walking over to his side of the bed and kissing his cheek.

“Missing you already.” He grins, watching you walk over to the door.

You turn your head over your shoulder to look at him before you walk out, quietly closing the door behind you. It’s starting to get lighter outside, so you rush back over to your cabin before anyone can question you. You get inside and change your clothes before you start packing your clothes and items into your bag.

There are leaders already making their way over to the main cabin, so you swing your bag over your shoulders and walk out of your cabin, locking it behind you. You spent some time in the main cabin with the leaders, everyone having their morning coffee and talking about how the camp has been, already discussing the next one. Your eyes keep darting over to Steve who’s grinning at you from the other side of the room, Colin beside him.

With a few complaints and groans as you had to go sort out your groups to get on the coaches, you walk down to the tents with Mandy beside you. The tents are still zipped up, and the children haven’t got up yet. You sigh and clap your hands together, earning mumbles from inside the tents.

“Alright, time to get up!” You say, weaving around the tents. “The coaches arrive in an hour, so you need to be up and dressed to take your tents down.”

They slowly shuffle out of their sleeping bags, tents zipping open as they crawl out, looking all groggy and grumpy. For the next few minutes, they lazily grab their gear bags and start to take the tents apart, which didn’t take as long as you expected. You turn your head to see Steve standing by a tent, trying to take it apart.

You glance at Mandy and the group who are putting the tent gear away, and you walk over to Steve, standing in front of him. “Struggling again?” You ask with a grin.

“I’m never going to work this out.” He mumbles.

“I can teach you at some point when you’re not under pressure.” You laugh and lean down to pluck the pegs out the ground.

He grins. “My house?”

“Sure, Steve. Sure.” You nod, but you’re more than happy to do so if it meant that you’d be around him.

He helps you take the tents apart, which he’s much better at taking them apart than pitching them. It was clear that he wanted you to come over and help him for the sake of it. When you’re distracted and he sees no one is looking at you both, he presses a quick kiss to your cheek, earning a laugh and a ‘Steve!’ from you.

Once all the tents are down, you make your way back to your group and walk down to the coach parking area, and you feel a strange tugging in your chest. You hated leaving camp anyway, but you weren’t ready to be away from Steve after already having to be away from him for two years.

As you’re loading the children’s bags into the luggage compartment at the side of the bus, he calls your name from behind you and you whip your head around, your shoulders dropping by simply looking at him. He breathlessly pauses in front of you.

“My bus is almost ready to go, but I needed to see you before I leave.” He gasps out, resting his hands on the sides of your face.

A smile twitches at your lips. “I’m glad you’ve not disappeared again.”

“That won’t be happening again, I swear.” He says, pulling you closer to him. “I wanted to ask if we could try us again? I understand if you don’t want to after knowing what you know, but I won’t be running off anymore. There’s nothing crazy happening in my life.”

You tilt your head and press a sweet, gentle kiss to his lips. “Yes, as long as we are safe and I’m not going to get eaten by some weird creature.”

He grins. “Trust me, you’re safer than ever.”

“Well, you know where I live. I haven’t moved anywhere, still with my parents.” You smile, dragging your hand down his chest. “Feel free to stop by.”

“Oh, I will.” He says with a cocky smirk. “I’ll need come camping lessons if I’m really going to get into being a leader.”

“I’ll give you some.” You laugh, resting your forehead against his shoulder. “Now, get back to your coach before they drive away and leave you here.”

He gently lifts your head from his shoulder and presses his lips to yours in a deep, slow kiss, a quiet sound slipping from him. “I love you.” He whispers.

“I love you, Steve. I’ll see you soon.” You whisper, brushing the back of your fingers over his cheek.

“Don’t be surprised if I turn up tonight.” He grins, slowly stepping backwards.

You fold your arms over your chest. “Oh, I’m expecting you to.”

He waves at you before jogging over to his coach and you turn back to the luggage compartment, shaking your head with a smile. Once the bags are loaded up, you step onto the coach and take a seat next to Mandy at the front, and the driver slowly starts to drive down the path.

“I thought you were mad at your friend?” Sally asks from the seat behind you, and your cheeks heat up hearing the children laugh. They definitely saw you kissing Steve.

Camp didn’t go the way you were expecting it to, but it got you right back to who you were missing, and you were glad your parents gave into you. Steve wasn’t lying when he said he’d come to see you, you knew that. You’re expecting him to be waiting at your door when you get home.

you keep trying to convince yourself it would never work anyway. he's gorgeous, charming, effortlessly good with people. women probably throw themselves at him.

meanwhile, your life comes with baggage: a kid who isn't his and a calendar built around school drop-offs and bedtime routines.

you assume that, eventually, he'll realize this isn't the kind of life he pictured for himself.

except steve doesn't see a list of reasons why it won't work.

he sees you.

and then, somehow, before you can even process it, he's gone and won over your daughter too.

you find him sitting cross-legged on your living room floor, letting her attempt to braid his floppy hair while she giggles herself silly. she tugs a little too hard and he throws his head back dramatically.

“owww, you're so mean to me.”

she erupts into laughter, immediately asking if she can try again.

“i guess,” he sighs dramatically, “if i have to.”

those stupid, warm brown eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles at your daughter, looking at her like she’s the most important person in the room.

which, to him, she is.

and so is her mom.

you keep waiting for the catch. for steve to realize there's a whole world beyond yours—a world where he gets to be young and carefree and unburdened, instead of choosing a life that already comes with so many responsibilities.

and every time he looks at you with that soft, awestruck expression, you have to look away because surely this isn’t real. no one has ever looked at you like that before.

yet despite your best efforts to push him away before things can get any more serious...

he gets you into bed.

it's terrifying.

you're more nervous than you've ever been with anyone—even more than your first time—because this isn't just about being physically vulnerable anymore.

it's the way he looks at you.

at the scars and stretch marks. the body that carried your daughter, that carried you through the hardest years of your life. the body you've spent the last decade treating like something practical, something that only mattered because it kept you moving.

never something to be cherished or wanted.

except steve doesn't look at you like that.

his gaze is nothing short of overwhelming.

there's an intensity to it that makes your heart stumble, something instinctive and undeniably hungry, but it's softened by so much warmth and affection that you can't bear to meet his eyes.

you glance away, folding your arms across your stomach and trying to make yourself a little smaller.

except steve won't let you disappear.  

he waits.

gently tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear, kisses your cheek while he’s got two fingers lazily fingering your pussy, stroking deep and knowing and good because “I’ve gotta make sure you’re ready for me, hm?”  

and oh, did you mention he was hung, too?  

stretches you to the limit every time. he can fuck you for hours, though he makes you come at least three times before he even thinks about pulling his dick out.

and when he tells you you're beautiful in bed with a completely straight face, you believe he means it.

it's not a line. he says it the way someone says the sky is blue.

like it's simply, undeniably true.

and he's just... too much.

because the men you've been with before never paid even a fraction of the attention he does. no one slowed down long enough to notice when you got tense, or checked in just because they wanted to know how you were feeling.

but steve does. constantly.

he notices every tiny shift in your expression, every shaky breath and every little gasp.   

he's endlessly patient with you, spending hours on his knees at the foot of your bed, blinking up at you with his nose buried in your pussy. cheeks tinged pink, glistening with your slick, hair a complete mess because he'd wanted you to stop worrying about being so careful with him. because he'd wanted you to grip onto him and show him what felt good.

and the whole time, he's looking at you with this expression that's almost impossible to describe.

wonder and gratitude. a kind of open, wholehearted adoration that feels too big to hold.

like he's trying to memorize the details of this moment because he still can't believe he gets to love you.

and all you can think is...

how?

how could someone so kind, so heartbreakingly good, look at you like you're the greatest thing that's ever happened to him?

Pinch. Your nose wrinkles as another pin slides into your hair. You lost count of them six pins ago.

"Remember, good posture," your mother instructs, taking hold of another section to braid. Thankfully, she's nearly finished. When you glance up in the mirror, you see she's fastened everything into a crown of hair, intricately entwined strands wrapping all around your head.

"I've packed a blue dress for the coronation. Please do not feign forgetfulness when it comes time to put on stockings," she says. She's familiar with most of your tricks at this point. Pinch.

In the dark of the early morning, the view outside of your window is still all shadows. Traveling in winter means that sunlight is more of a precious resource than the constant it usually is. The glow of the fireplace occasionally catches in the snowfall outside, looking almost like tiny sparks of light instead of frozen flakes.

"Doing my hair to sit on a horse all day feels a bit silly," you mumble, picking idly at your fingernails.

"I like for you to look nice," she says matter-of-factly. "It'll keep it neat instead of getting all whipped up in the wind." It was a fair point. The tightness of the pins would get old in a matter of hours, but would save you from brushing through knots at the end of the day's travel. It was kind what she was doing. In her own way.

Pinch. She fixes the last pin and does a final once-over, brushing up any stray wisps as a knock sounds on the door.

"Come in," she replies, eyes still trained on your head.

"Sir Steven has prepared the lady's things for travel," the maid's voice informs timidly. "He is ready for departure in the courtyard."

"Thank you, Ilse," you reply, turning your face to give her a tired smile. She responds with a soft grin of her own before she turns back into the hallway, with gentle shuffling footsteps that echo throughout the space until they fade.

"You know her name?" Mother asks, with a lilt in her voice that feels more curious than judgmental.

"I like to know everyone's name," you say, shrugging a little.

A quizzical, almost contemplative look comes over her face before she promptly stands and retrieves a thick, gray woolen cape from your wardrobe. It was one of your favorites—shearling lined and embroidered around the hem and hood with little green holly leaves. She drapes it around your shoulders.

"Congratulate Lady Jane," Mother says, fastening it closed by the wooden toggles. "And please, no scowling at any men that offer to dance. Just decline politely."

Decline? You've suffered through countless parties, dancing with clumsy, presumptuous, charmless men just to keep up an agreeable appearance, and now out of the blue, you've been granted permission to say no. The sudden urge to pinch yourself awake arises in you, along with a confused expression, your eyebrows furrowing in sheer astonishment.

"You mean I'm allowed to decline them?" Your voice sounds the most awake it has since she started getting you ready.

"You're a lady," she says. "Your wishes are to be respected."

"This is news to me," you scoff. Your mother sighs before she says your name in a frustrated huff.

"Your father and I do not agree on every aspect of your life," she says through tense lips and gritted teeth. "I know that forcing you to dance, and wear things you hate, and sit still in the library all day makes you unhappy and resentful. It's certainly how I felt."

A sudden pang of guilt fills your chest as your eyes hesitantly meet hers. She looks stern, as always, with the slightest furrow in her brow. The years of keeping stoic deprive her of the ways life is supposed to show in a person's face. Smooth skin covers the areas where smile lines should be. It's a beautiful face, paid for in stifled laughter and tears forcefully blinked away. The imagined memories of her young life have lingered in your mind for years. You accepted long ago that your parents didn't love one another, but the idea of who your mother was before she became an extension of your father broke your heart even more. Was she funny? Did she like reading? Did she get excited about the first snowfall of the year like you? Even if she did, that girl is long gone.

"And forcing me to marry?" Your voice trembles a little. "Do you know how that makes me feel?"

She sighs again, then gives the front of your cape a final tug.

"I can only fight one battle at a time."

The dim glow of the courtyard's lanterns flickers off of Nora and Steven, who yawns and blinks his sleepy eyes as he leans back against her front leg. As you're escorted closer, you see the tiny, sparkly snowflakes that rest in his hair and on his shoulders. An affectionate flutter in your stomach arises at the sight of the little tinge of rosiness in his cheeks from the cold.

"I'm alright from here," you say softly to Lucas, who so kindly offered to bring you from your room. "Thank you, Lucas."

"You're welcome," he says, moving his gloved hand to rest on the hilt of the sword at his hip. "Keep Steven on his best behavior, yeah?"

You giggle.

"I'll do my best."

A big smile spreads across Steven's tired face as he sees you and Lucas, whom he greets with a wave.

"You've got your maps?" Lucas asks Steven, rubbing his tired eyes.

"Dustin dropped them off last night," Steven confirms. "Go get some sleep, yeah? If anyone bugs you, tell 'em I let you sleep in."

"Don't have to tell me twice," Lucas yawns, giving a sluggish wave as he turns in the direction of the barracks.

Steven watches as Lucas departs, waiting until he's at a satisfactory distance before leaning in. You manage to catch him before his lips meet yours with a press of your finger against his mouth.

"No funny business yet," you whisper.

"But that's my favorite kind of business," he says, his voice muffled by your finger.

You smile, rolling your eyes a little as you pull your hand back into your cape.

"I don't know if anyone's awake yet. My mother could be watching from a window," you caution. "I promise, once we're out of these walls, I'll kiss you madly."

Steven sighs a little. He knows you're right, but he's never had a knack for conceding to this.

"You were always the responsible one," he concedes, turning to give the straps of the saddlebags a final check before he lifts you onto the saddle. You adjust yourself to the front of it, giving the side of Nora's neck a tender pet. She's soft, probably freshly bathed just for the occasion.

"Good morning, pretty," you whisper to her, as Steven hoists himself up to settle behind you. His legs fall on either side of your hips, and you can't help the way you lean back against him, meeting his solid chest. Nearly all of the energy that you were able to muster while getting ready this morning melts away in Steven's hold.

There was just something about his warmth. Despite the intimidating layers of steel plates and chain mail, Steven walked into rooms with this little golden halo of invitation around him. Enemies would never know that beneath his helmet, he possessed doe-like eyes and a disarming smile. He was an incredibly rare person—radiant, but astute. The years of keeping at your side gifted him with the skill of reading an entire breadth of feelings from one glance at your face. It was a warmth you wished to be in the orbit of forever.

"You're tired," he teases in a gentle voice right next to your ear, his left hand lightly tugging on the reins to guide Nora toward the gates.

"I'll do my best to keep you company," you say in a small voice, trying to blink the exhaustion away.

"No, you're alright, angel," Steven murmurs, just loud enough for you to hear as he nods to the drawbridge engineer. The sounds of heavy chains and clanking resound into the air as the bridge lowers, revealing a path that extends through the center of the village, sitting quietly under the dusting snowfall. It's still too early for even the earliest of risers to be awake, the only sounds around being Nora's hoofbeats and the occasional creak of the saddle's leather.

"Why'd we have to leave so early?" You ask through a yawn.

"The sun'll be up soon," Steven soothes. "Here."

He tugs Nora to an easy stop before a hand pulls your thigh, easing you to sit sidesaddle in front of him. When you look over, his face is right next to yours—wearing the kindest smile.

"You're cute when you're grumpy," he whispers sweetly, nearly against your forehead before he presses a kiss there. "Sleep as long as you want. I'll be right here."

You tilt your head upward, lips meeting the underside of his jaw, before you tuck your head against his shoulder. Eyes fluttering shut, you take in a final deep breath, a little sharpness filling your lungs from the cold air that Steven's warmth quickly soothes away. It doesn't take very long at all for sleep to find you again, with his gentle humming and soft, rhythmic strokes to your side.

When you open your eyes again, the sun was finally higher in the sky, blurred by a layer of gray clouds. The snow was lighter now, flurrying tiny flakes rather than the heavy, cottony stuff that fell all through the night. A small, tired noise escapes your throat before you can fully lift your head and Steven notices, letting out a little breath of affectionate laughter.

"Hi there, angel," Steven croons in your ear. "Sleep well?"

You nod, rubbing your eyes.

"Better than I slept last night," you say, blinking to adjust to the brightness. "How long was I asleep?"

"About two hours." His hand brushes a little snow off of your cloaked shoulder. "You cold?"

You shake your head as you sit up, adjusting yourself to sit straight on the saddle again. He drops one side of the reins to wrap an arm around you, his hand reaching inside of your cape to settle on your waist.

"This thing's nice," he says, taking a closer look at the cape. "It's warm in here."

The weight of his chin settles on your shoulder. You press the side of your head against his.

"It was my grandfather's," you inform him. It was one of the nice things about being the only heir, despite your family's barely shrouded disappointment that you weren't a boy. Everything was passed down to you eventually, whether they wanted it to or not. Men's winter cloaks were always warmer, anyway. They were made for actually doing things.

"Your hair looks fancy," he says, leaning back a little to observe the crown of braids and twists in its entirety. You laugh, shoving him a little with your elbow.

"Don't make fun," you laugh. "My mother woke me up in the middle of the night to do it, I feel silly."

"I'm not making fun, it looks good," he soothes, and the hand on your waist slips out from the cape. Steven's fingers brush up the back of your neck, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

"I like that I can see this. It's pretty." You feel the warmth of his breath before the press of lips to the nape, and you're glad he can't see the flustered smile that spreads across your face.

"Can't believe a knight has such a soft heart," you tease.

"Only for you," he retorts, although you both know it couldn't be further from the truth. Softest for you, but almost as weak for squires in need of guidance, the village's kids that waved at him shyly, stray dogs that lingered outside of the barracks because his scraps were as good as theirs.

"I hope Lady Jane's been doing alright," you say, finally allowed the right audience to talk about your worries for her.

You attempted this discussion with your mother weeks ago, a genuine attempt to peel back the layers that kept her honest thoughts deep inside, and all you got in return was "It's her duty. I did mine, she will do hers. You will certainly do yours."

"She's got a tough road ahead, that's for sure," he agrees. "How old is she again?"

"Seventeen." The word makes you cringe a little as it leaves your mouth.

He whistles lowly.

"I wish she could have a different life," you muse, leaning back against him again. "She's like me, you know? The only way out is running away." You didn't know if she had someone who loved her enough to fight for her the way Steven did for you, someone to help if she ever chose the same path as you. You hoped desperately that she did.

"I don't tell you enough how brave you are," Steven says after a little silence, pressing his lips to your temple.

"I feel more foolish than brave these days," you confess. "I've only ever read about the real world, and here I am, on the edge of running right into it."

"It'll probably help that you're the smartest person I've ever met," he says. "Seriously, once we're out of there, you're free to do whatever you want. You could paint, raise animals, be a baker. I mean, shit, you could be a blacksmith if you want. You're pretty strong."

"I want to try everything," you say, a slight smile on your face. Steven smiles himself.

"You will, angel."

After another few hours of traveling through the woods, which grew increasingly wintry with every passing minute, Steven reared up Nora by a partially frozen stream. He figured that since he was in the mood for a drink of water, she probably was as well. Once he's on the ground, he extends a hand to ease you off of the saddle. Your feet land with a soft 'crunch' into the snow. With a deep breath, your lungs fill with the cleansing kind of coldness. The air smells like pine and woodsmoke and a new beginning. Steven releases the canteen of water from its straps to eagerly bring it to his lips. Before you can stop yourself, your eyes fixate on his throat; how his Adam's apple rises and falls with each swallow, the bead of water that escapes his lips and trails down over the twin spots on his neck. You feel your teeth press into your bottom lip. It was one of the many wonderful things about making your feelings for him known—you're welcome to stare. When he pulls the canteen away, he takes notice of your gaze, smiling affectionately as he sidles up in front of you.

"You know, I have this funny memory," Steven teases, reaching to cup your cheek with his free hand. "This morning, a beautiful girl promised to kiss me madly."

"Hm," you muse, leaning your cool cheek into the warmth of his palm. "That sounds familiar, actually."

His nose crinkles from laughter as a puff of white, smoky-looking breath escapes his lips. Your hands leave the warmth of your cape to grasp at the leather lapels of his riding coat,and with an insistent tug, his face comes close enough to meet yours in a kiss. The tip of his nose brushes yours as he pulls you closer, dropping the canteen into the snow to hold you around the waist. Your hands brush up his chest, yearning for the familiar softness of his hair in your fingers. A low sound emits from Steven's throat, pleased at the subtle scrape of nails on the back of his head.

"Your nose is cold," he mumbles against your lips, pecking quick and soft before he pulls away. The warmth of his palms is suddenly on your cheeks, thumbs brushing the soft skin.

"So is yours," you giggle, and Steven wraps his arms around your shoulders, tucking your body right against his.

You shudder a little as the warmth from his chest radiates into your body. His palm finds your cheek again, thumb stroking back and forth lovingly across your cheekbone. The jostling and soft clink of Nora's reins sounds as she shakes, sidling closer to you and Steven. He presses a kiss to the top of your head, then picks up the canteen from the snow. Your eyes wander upward and catch the tree canopy, where bare, snowy branches spider out, entangling and casting jagged shadows.

"What would you do?" you ask Steven, who finishes strapping the canteen to the saddle before he turns to you.

"What do you mean?"

"Once we're gone," you explain. "I'll be free to try whatever I like, but what about you? What would you have done if you never became a knight?"

Steven's eyes fall to the ground for a moment, turning over a thought in his head before he speaks again. He crosses his arms across his chest.

"I always wanted to be a father," he confesses. "I never had one of my own. I left home at ten to train, and to my parents, that was the end of things. I was someone else's problem."

A strange, uneasy feeling that you can't quite source rises in your chest.

"A father?"

"Yeah," he says casually, shrugging a little. "I love teaching. Helping a kid become a good person, it's the best thing about being a captain. I want to do that for a kid of my own. Our own."

Our own. It should make you happy. Why isn't it making you happy? Steven loves you enough to see that kind of future with you. So in love, that when he imagines the mother of his child, the object of his most vulnerable dream, he imagines you. And usually, you loved seeing him around children. The stern but fond look on his face as he adjusts a squire's sparring stance. The fatherly pats on the shoulder he gives after a scolding. It's the thing that set him so far apart from the guard's previous captains—a knight was no good to Steven if he wasn't just as devoted to being a good man as he was to being a good fighter.

You knew in the deepest reaches of your heart that Steven would never demand this of you. If it really was in your future, any child you had with Steven would be loved, unconditionally and without reservation. Any little girl of Steven's would be believed in, raised to understand that she was capable of anything. His son would be like him—a gentle defender of goodness. He would hold the love of people far closer to his chest than the hatred of evil.

By any measure, Steven is the kind of person any woman would be thrilled to have a child with one day. Leagues beyond your stranger of a fiancé would have been the father of your child. Before you decided that you were leaving home, becoming a mother was as inevitable to your future as death. It would have happened whether you liked it or not—become an ornament to society, become a wife, produce an heir. You would have loved your child to the best of your ability, but love wouldn't have changed fate. A son would be shaped into a king. A girl would be shaped into a wife. Faces to smile for the public, mouths to speak adoration of your husband. Just as the burden of this was lifted away, a harsh, similar weight is settled on your shoulders again.

You hate the ache that simmers in your heart. Why do the visions of this future fill you with dread again? The view of your life's horizon used to stretch infinitely in all directions, a beautiful, big sky with every path imaginable in perfect clarity. Now, the view feels naive. Darkness starts to vignette the expanse of sky and the paths disappear until a lone stretch of road waits under your feet.

"Angel?"

Your mind snaps violently back into the present, suddenly extremely aware of the cold and the churning in your stomach. Steven's hand reaches for your shoulder and you flinch away, looking at the ground so you don't have to face him. You're frightened. Why? What is there to be so afraid of? His eyes widen. Steven has been punched, stabbed, he's taken a jousting lance straight to the chest, but nothing has ever hurt him as deeply as this. The way you recoil away from him, like a rabbit reacting to the snapping of a twig under a hunter's boots.

"I-" the broken sound leaves his mouth as he desperately searches for something to say. "What happened?"

When you finally find the courage to look at him, the pain swimming in his eyes and the worried parting of his mouth breaks your heart all over again.

"T-thinking," is all you can come up with. The pitiful look on his face soothes away the fear, but a consuming, miserable shame rises quickly to replace it. He's trying to help, you think. He puts himself in harm's way for me without a second thought, and I really thought he would lock me away again.

"From the look on your face, thinking some pretty scary thoughts," he says softly, testing the waters with a tiny step closer. You let him. Every inch that closes between you brings you back to the warmth. This is Steven, you force yourself to think. Steven wants me to be free.

This was your least favorite symptom of growing up behind glass—how deeply you longed to love people, be known by them, rooted in your heart right alongside the fear that they would be like all of the people you've known. Possess and exercise control over your life, like your parents and the entire court, or be a witness, completely without the power or agency to help.

I promised to trust him, and I broke a promise.

Steven loves you. He understands you. And you can't believe that you let this symptom eat away at you so much that your mind shoved him right in with the people that engaged you to a stranger.

Steven doesn't break promises. Steven deserves better.

"Sweetheart?" Steven says gently. "Please, talk to me. You look…something's off."

"I was just-" you start, your voice hollow and strange. "I was lost in thought, and you startled me a little. I'm alright." You wouldn't convince anyone, let alone a person as in tune with you as he was.

"You look really scared," he softly insists. "You know you can tell me anything. If something's wrong, I wanna know."

"I'm just a little distracted," you reply, the words starting to feel fuller, more like something, at least. "Tired, and worried about Jane, and thinking about leaving soon. I have a lot on my mind."

Your eyes dart around, searching for anything that could cease his interrogation of your undeniably strange behavior. Usually, you love how closely he notices you. Right now, you never want to be looked at again, and especially by someone as good and generous as Steven. The subtle orange glow of the clouds in the distance gives you an escape.

"The sun's going down," you mumble. "We should probably find a place to stay the night." His eyes lock onto yours for a moment before yours fall back down to the snow.

"You're right," Steven says, his voice a little choked. He sniffles. "There's a town close by."

He stands still, lingering a moment longer as if he's waiting for you to make the first move. When you don't, Steven huffs a little as he reaches for Nora's reins, leading her a little closer to you. His big hand comes into view—offered in front of you and you take it, internally wincing a little at the warmth, feeling entirely unworthy of how naturally his fingers curl around your palm. Tentative hands reach for your waist to help lift you onto the saddle, not staying to linger and caress as they usually do. He climbs on behind you, hesitating before he reaches for the reins. Nora starts trotting east.

This can't be over, you think, looking down at the stitches of the saddle, idly tracing them with your fingers. The ridges and loops of the thread calm you a little, helping to bring you back to earth and out of the relentless, nauseating spiral. Fix this. Figure this out.

The next hour passes in silence, save for the occasional click from Steven to change Nora's direction, or the clearing of his throat. The spiral has untangled a little, allowing your thoughts to come through more clearly, but the guilty, regretful feeling in your chest is just as harsh. What would you even say? I'm sorry, I've been lonely my entire life and you're the only good friend I've ever had? When I got the slightest idea you may be like the others, I panicked? No one other than you has ever truly loved me and the thought of being ordered around again terrifies me? It doesn't roll off the tongue.

He clicks again as the outskirts of a village come into view, edging Nora onto the path and toward the town. Quaint, cozy-looking cottages made of pine and stone line the sides of a rushing river, with intricate wrought iron bridges connecting the sides of the street every few yards. Pretty, detailed garlands of intertwining evergreen and cranberries border the windows and doorways of some homes, marking an early embrace of the approaching solstice—sensible for a mountain town that stays cold most of the year. A few townspeople mill about, bundled up in shawls and hauling baskets of ingredients for tonight's dinner. A pair of young sisters run past you three, rushing to reach home before their sundown curfew. Steven glances around and notices a larger structure near the village center, boasting a large common room on the ground floor, stables to the side, and a clock tower climbing toward the sky. A wooden sign hangs over the front door, reading Night's Stay 20 Silver in neat, hand-painted script. The air around it smells like cinnamon and mead and freshly baked bread.

"You're sure you're alright?" Steven's voice sounds from behind you, low and tentative. You nod.

"Just thinking," you reply. Your voice doesn't betray you quite as much as before, the words coming out more honestly than when you flinched away from him. Steven hesitates before he helps you down, his own feet landing soon after.

"I'll go see if they have a room tonight," he says, trying to meet your avoidant eyes. "Be right back." The front door of the inn opens with a loud creak and you sigh, leaning your forehead against Nora's side.

"What am I going to do?" You mumble, scratching sweetly at her shoulder. She lets out an impatient snort. Say you're sorry, dummy.

"Fair enough," you whisper. The door creaks open again and Steven emerges from it, bringing with him an enticing cloud of toasty air, thick with the smell of warm spices.

"There's a free room," he says, reaching for Nora's reins. "It has one bed, but I'm fine on the floor." God, he doesn't need to do that.

"I-" The racing of your thoughts starts to fall out of your mouth, your voice frantic and stumbling. "Steven, you don't-"

"It's alright, angel," he insists, with the slightest shake of his head after using the name. "Head inside and eat, I'm sure you're hungry. I'll put Nora up for the night, then I'll come find you."

You decide on a slight, closed-mouth smile instead of making another attempt at words. He was right; you were certainly ready for an actual meal, and even more eager for a real night's sleep, uninterrupted by a wake-up call for primping and preening. The common room of the inn is large, occupied on one side by a kitchen and a large wooden bar, where a few jolly, pink-faced men nurse tankards of mead, letting out occasional barks of laughter at each other's stories. The other half of the room is cozier, with mismatched dining tables and chairs waiting for chilly, hungry patrons. A massive stone fireplace crackles reliably on the back wall, managing easily to warm the entire room.

"You alright?" A kind-looking, older woman calls to you from behind the bar, and your head whips in her direction.

"Y-yes," you reply, accidentally releasing a choke of anxious laughter. "Yes, I am. I'm looking for a dinner table for two?"

"Sit wherever you like," she says warmly, gesturing to the other side of the room. "I'll be by with some tea."

You give her a thankful smile, then turn to scan the dining room. A little square table near the fire catches your eye, perfect for heating you up after a day of traveling against the winter wind and flurries. You take a sit in the chair facing the bar, saving the one nearest to the fire for Steven. As promised, the friendly barmaid approaches with two wooden tankards of hot tea that smells of clove and vanilla.

"Your second joining soon?" She asks, head nodding toward the empty chair as she sets the cups down.

"He is," you say, wrapping your frigid hands around one of the mugs, sighing a little at the warmth. "Just setting up his horse for the night."

"Ah, he's the nice lad that came in earlier," she confirms, setting her hands on her hips. "Good manners and he's not bad to look at. He's a friend?"

A small, sad feeling stirs in your chest again.

"I hope so," you say, trying to muster a polite smile. She notices how you shift a little in your seat, eyes fixating longingly on the front door. Her warm hand settles on your shoulder.

"I'm Agnes, if you need anything," she says gently. "I'll be right back with some bread for you both."

She gives your arm a motherly squeeze before she turns back toward the kitchen. The creak of the door sounds again and you snap to it, seeing Steven enter once more, brushing the snow from his hair. He scans the room until his eyes finally meet yours, and he smiles big before dropping his face, looking to the floor as he walks toward you. The legs of his chair scrape against the floor before he takes his seat across from you.

"Are the stables nice?" You ask, glad you were finally settled enough to form actual words around him instead of choking on your own embarrassment.

"They are," he confirms. "There's a nice fire going in there, too. Nora likes it, and you know how picky she is." You both laugh softly before the air grows tense again. You can't even remember the last time you felt awkward around him, but you certainly remember how terrible it feels.

Agnes sets a wooden basket of steaming bread rolls between you and Steven, dropping a little jar of honey next to it.

"We've got a nice winter soup for dinner tonight," she says, the cheerful lilt thankfully easing the air. "Nice and hot, and it'll fill you up after that day of traveling you've just done." As if on cue, your stomach rumbles eagerly for something warm and comforting. Steven licks his lips.

"We're definitely hungry," Steven says, smiling at her before reaching for a roll, breaking it in half and giving it a generous coating of honey. "Thanks."

Agnes looks over to you.

"It sounds delicious," you confirm eagerly. "Thank you very much, Agnes."

She steps away and over to the kitchen again. You take a roll for yourself, separating it in half as Steven did and drizzling it with honey. The two of you eat in silence, probably filling up a little too much before dinner is even served, but too hungry to care. Steven glances at the final roll, before picking it up and tearing it in half. He extends one of the halves to you and you accept it, almost feeling tiny sparks erupting on the skin where your fingers brush. As you dig into your shared bread, tiny, shy footsteps approach the table, belonging to a little girl with pretty dark eyes and curly dark hair, braided down her back. She's young, maybe five or six, wearing a little green overcoat and holding a sprig of evergreen in her hand. You and Steven both look over.

"E-excuse me," her little voice is nervous and sweet as she looks up at Steven. "I saw your big sword. Are you a knight? A real one?"

He smiles ear to ear.

"I am," he says proudly, making a big show of glancing around the room before he returns his attention to her. "Can you keep a secret?"

She nods eagerly, eyes going owlish.

"This is my princess," he points to you subtly as he whispers to her and she gasps, her head whipping to look at you.

"Really?" She makes an attempt to stay hushed, wanting to make good on her secret-keeping abilities, but too excited to remain entirely discreet. You give her a friendly smile before you nod.

"I am," you say warmly, reaching for one of her hands. She accepts it gladly. "What's your name?"

"I'm Magdalene," she says, pretty dimples appearing in her cheeks as she smiles at you. "Your hair is really pretty."

"Thank you," you say gladly, leaning a little closer. "It's braided, just like yours." Her hand reaches behind her back to touch her own braid. She lets out a gleeful giggle as a man approaches, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"No more running off like that again, darling," he scolds gently, before turning to you and Steven. "I'm so sorry if she was bugging you."

"It's not a problem at all," you assure him, before looking back at the little girl. "It was wonderful to meet you, Magdalene."

She smiles shyly, waving goodbye as her father escorts her back to her family.

When you look back at Steven, the sight of his soft smile and shiny eyes is enough to bring a mist of tears to your own eyes. You force yourself to look away, training your eyes on the wood grain of the table.

The anticipated respite of your night's sleep was never going to be satisfying—not after everything between you and Steven. After dinner, you managed to convince him not to sleep on the floor, only to stir awake a few hours later, feeling emptiness instead of him in the linens. The grogginess leaves your body quickly, muscles tensing and breaths quickening as your head whips around the dark room, searching for a sign of him anywhere. Your worries slow as you finally find his silhouette, outlined by the moonlight and lantern's glow pouring through the window. He sits at the little table underneath the glass panes, gazing out at the empty village square.

You slide out of bed and reach for the matches on the nightstand, striking one to light the candle you blew out before lying down for the night. The room starts to glow warmly as the wick ignites, the smoke and smell of the struck match dissipating into the air. Steven's eyes stay trained on the window. The floor creaks a little under your timid footsteps, inching closer to him and reaching nervously for his bare shoulder with your hand.

"You're awake," you say softly, stroking gently over the freckled skin.

"I scared you," he replies matter-of-factly. "Not sure how I'm supposed to sleep after that." Your breath hitches as the words hit you.

"I'm so sorry, Steven," you say, voice thick with tears that don't quite spill yet.

"You shouldn't be," he says, the warmth of his palm landing on your hand. His fingers naturally wrap around it. You feel a tear spill onto your cheek and you wipe it, taking in a deep breath before you speak again.

"I have some explaining to do," you say with a sniffle as you sit on the bed. "Sit with me. Please?" Steven's shoulders drop before he stands, joining you on the mattress.

"Tell me what scared you so much," he asks softly, reaching for your hand again and holding it between both of his. "Whatever I did, I wanna fix it."

"You didn't do anything," you say, wiping your face with your free hand. "It's my life that I got scared of, that's why I got so strange."

"Your life?"

"You were talking about your dream, what you want to do after we leave," you explain. "You said you wanted to be a father, and that you wanted to have a child with me."

"I do," he responds innocently.

"Steven, I've lived a very lonely life," you start, feeling another wave of tears rise in your eyes. "I've had you, and I'm so grateful for you. You're my best friend in the world. But I have no idea who I am."

Steven's hands tighten around yours ever so slightly.

"The second I was born, I was already someone's wife, someone's mother," you say. "My mother was already older. I was always going to be the only one, and they begged and prayed the entire time she was pregnant that I wouldn't be a girl. I broke everyone's heart."

"Sweetheart, you never-"

"Please," you plead softly. "I need to get this out."

He nods for you to continue.

"Who I really was never mattered to them," you say. "My hopes for myself, what I like, what I don't—it never mattered. All anyone cared about was that I behave agreeably enough until they could finally ship me away to marry someone and give birth to as many babies as it takes to have a boy."

"You won't have to."

"I know," you say. "I know, and that's why I was so embarrassed. You would never force me to live like that, but you deserve to live your dreams too. I don't know if I want to be a mother because I've lived my whole life just accepting that I would be, whether I really wanted to or not."

Steven's head tilts back a little as he pieces things together.

"So, when I said I wanted to have a kid one day..."

"I panicked," you admit. "My brain slipped right back into that stupid engagement meeting, and talking to all of those awful suitors."

"I shouldn't have said that," Steven says, looking over at you and brushing a strand of your now-unbraided hair behind your ear. "I'm so sorry."

"But you don't-"

"It's my turn now," he cuts in softly. "We could have one kid, or six, or not have any at all. All I care is that you're by my side and you're happy. That's the dream."

You smile, a little choked up again.

"Of course, I'd love to have a kid one day," Steven says, shrugging a little. "The reason I said ours is because I think you'd be so good at it, but only if that's what you want."

You lean into his side, sighing as your cheek makes contact with his bare shoulder.

"I should've been more careful," he affirms, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. "I would never take your freedom away like that, angel. You're doing this for yourself, I'm just the lucky idiot that knows how to use a sword."

You both laugh softly, and the aura of tension finally lifts away, leaving you and Steven there for each other for the first time since this morning.

"I love you," you finally say, the words leaving you as easily as breath.

"I love you," he says, kissing the top of your head.

Your head cranes upward to face him and you capture his lips softly, a palm pressing to the soft hair of his chest. His hand reaches for your cheek as he kisses back, smiling against your mouth.

Your hands slide to the tops of his shoulders and you push, using the leverage to ease yourself on top of him. Your nightgown fans around the both of you as your thighs nestle on either side of him, his hands finding your waist eagerly.

"We don't have to, angel," he murmurs, centimeters from your face.

"Please," you plead softly, taking his cheeks into your hands. "I want to feel close to you again."

He smiles as he lifts you up by the waist, freeing enough room to pull down his trousers and free his aching cock. You lower yourself again, gasping as his length makes contact with your slick cunt. With a slow rock of your hips, Steven shudders, reaching for your face to kiss you again.

"Take whatever you need from me," he says between messy kisses. "My perfect girl, use me however you want."

You moan softly, tongue darting softly out of your mouth and past his lips. His tongue slides against yours as his big hands dig into your hips, helping you grind against him. Your hand slides down his chest until it disappears beneath your nightgown to wrap around the base of his cock, which twitches slightly at the feel of your hand. A large bead of pre-cum smears under the pad of your thumb.

The stretch as you lower yourself onto him is intense, and delicious. Your eyes squeeze shut, a whimper escaping your lips as your cunt takes in more of him, prompting Steven to bring a hand to your cheek, softly caressing the skin.

"Open those eyes, angel, please." he says tenderly. Your eyes flutter open. "You're doing so good, you feel so fucking perfect. I'm so proud of you."

"Love you so much," you breathe, kissing him hard as your thighs meet once more and you've taken all of him.

"You're my future," he says, hands roaming your back lovingly. "Nothing else matters as long as you're there with me."

Your hips start to rock again, gentle pulses of pleasure building with each movement of his cock inside of you.

"I don't deserve you," you pant.

"No, no angel," he insists. "I'm the lucky one, remember? Please don't say that, you're the greatest thing that's ever happened to anyone. If they can't see that, they're fucking idiots."

Tears fill your eyes again, your hands softly cradling his cheeks.

"Thank you," you whisper, pressing your lips to his as your hips settle, keeping him warm inside of you. "You really believe in me."

He smiles, arms wrapping securely around your waist.

"You're easy to believe in, Princess.”

author's note: thank you for waiting so patiently for this!! And thank you to everyone who was so kind to me over the last week. It's definitely been a hard time, but working on this and looking forward to everyone's reactions really kept me going. I hope you enjoyed! As always please let me know your thoughts!

Your words turned him on further, his cock hardening beneath the restraint of his jeans. He would’ve taken you up on that offer long ago if he’d known how horny you felt around him.

“Well, I’m gonna go before you start drooling.” Nancy replied. Steve immediately hid himself behind the wall, he had a plan of confronting you, but wasn’t going to give himself away yet.

As soon as he heard the door shut behind Nancy, he stepped forward revealing himself. He didn’t speak a word, the only sound that alerted you of his presence were his heavy footsteps. You glanced upwards and jumped back immediately, caught off guard.

“Oh, Steve! You haven’t left yet?” You asked, trying to conceal how flustered you felt, having just talked about him in an intimate way.

Silence filled the space between you at first, he simply crossed his arms across his chest, raking his gaze over your body as he slowly unwrapped you with his darkening pupils. Then he titled his head at you, in that very Steve way, the one that usually meant he found something amusing. Though the words that came out were anything but.

“You wanna fuck me?” His voice was thick and syrupy, you instinctively took a step back, eyes widening.

“I—uh…I wasn’t—” you opened your mouth then closed it again, feeling like the room had become ten times more cramped.

Steve raised a brow, his posture stiff as if he was holding himself back from taking you right then. He had to admit, watching you stutter as your face flushed made his cock twitch, but he was going to drag it out as long as possible.

“You weren’t what? Because from what I heard, you were practicing moaning for me.” He scoffed, rolling his tongue into the side of his cheek.

You realized there was no escaping this, eyes flickering everywhere other than him. “Does it, upset you…that I said that?” You asked slowly, voice coming out weak and quiet.

You were shocked when Steve took a step closer, cornering you until you had to physically lift your chin to stare into his eyes. “You wanna fuck me, yeah?” He whispered, and when your gaze strayed lower, you caught sight of just how hard he was. “Then I’m gonna show you just how hard I fuck.”

Your breath hitched, goosebumps rising on your skin. “I…” you couldn’t speak, your mind only focusing on how you clenched around nothing, trying not to squeeze your thighs together in front of him.

“Say it.” He cut you off. “I want to hear you say to my face again how badly you want to fuck me.” Steve wasn’t asking, it was a demand, and who were you not to abide by his orders?

You swallowed heavily, he was staring at you like a wolf. “I want you to fuck me, Steve.”

As soon as the words left your mouth, he surged forward, taking you roughly by the jaw to smash his lips against yours.

His grip on you was bruising, if only you knew how much he’s wanted to fuck you too. Steve groaned into your mouth, biting on your bottom lip to slip his tongue inside. You didn’t even bother pausing for a moment to breathe, his kisses were intoxicating, deepening the desire you had for him.

You gasped when he suddenly pushed you back against a table, harder than you expected. There was no time for being gentle, Steve was seconds away from cumming in his pants every time he replayed your words.

“Bend the fuck over.” Steve rasped, turning you around by the hips to flatten you against the hard wood table.

Excitement racked through you, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself, it was as though you manifested it. Steve flipped your skirt upside down, his palm coming down to rub against his own cock at the sight of you wet and waiting.

You shook your ass backwards, every moment where he wasn’t already inside you was torture. “Please, Steve.” You sighed, earning a harsh slap to your bottom.

“I’m going to give you what you deserve, talking so dirty about me while not knowing I was listening the whole time.” He narrated as he unbuckled his belt, taking his bare cock in his hands to slide the head through your slick folds.

You let out a quiet moan, you could already feel how big he was before he was even inside you yet. Your clit pulsated with need, when Steve finally decided to stop teasing you, he entered you with one long painful thrust.

“S-Steve—” you screamed, gripping the edge of the table. He threw his head back from how tight and warm you felt around him, unlike any other pussy he’s tried, fuck, he wouldn’t want a different one after this.

“That’s it.” He panted, staring down at where you were conjoined as he rocked his hips back out, just to force his cock back in deeply. “Taking me so well, baby. Knew this pussy would be made for me.”

You whimpered, jaw hung open as he pulled moans out from you. You struggled to breathe, every gasp of air was only met with another thrust. Steve held you firmer, quickening his pace as his balls smacked against your ass, plap plap plap echoed off the walls, the thick stench of sex surrounding you.

“Mmf—ohh—ahh,” you cried out, your obvious pleasure made him move impossibly faster, dragging the veins of his cock against the spongy spot inside you.

Steve took your hands behind your back, locking them together in his grasp to tug you back against him. “Fuck, mmm—just go dumb on my cock, sweetheart. You can’t even speak,” he laughed condescendingly, continuing to use you as his own fuck toy.

The pleasure inside you was building intensely, you couldn’t stop clenching around him, your hole sucking him back in with desperation. “Don’t—if you keep squeezing my cock like that I’m gonna cum.” Steve gritted out. You clenched around him again from the tightness in his voice. “I just said don’t fucking do that.” He brought a hand down onto your ass again, making you jerk forwards.

“Oh god!” you screamed, feeling him lift your right leg up, angling deeper into your pussy. The coil in your stomach was starting to tighten dangerously, you couldn’t help but grind your hips back against his, meeting him with each thrust.

“Fuck yourself on my cock, just like you wanted to.” Steve let you do all the work, until you started shaking and let out a final shout of his name, cumming all over his cock.

“Shit, I’m gonna, fuck—” your spasming hole and the added lubrication of your release sent Steve over the edge, leaning over you to push his sweaty chest against your back, keeping his cock still as he pumped his cum into you.

“Soo fucking good.” Steve sighed, pressing a kiss against your shoulder. You both stayed there for a moment, catching your breaths shakily.

You hadn’t even opened your eyes for a full minute when Steve was already climbing back off of you, starting to rock his hips slowly again.

You laughed at her sad expression. “Traitor.” She groaned.

“You’ll thank me tomorrow,” he said as he set it aside. The front door swung open as another group squeezed into the already packed house, people dancing in the living room and crowding around the kitchen island.

You escaped outside before Steve could find another reason to argue with you. It wasn’t that you hated him, not exactly, Steve just had an incredible talent for getting under your skin at any given moment.

He always had something to say, if you climbed onto the kitchen counter to reach a cabinet, he’d tell you to get down before you broke your neck. If you wandered into the woods with the kids, he’d insist on following because, “someone has to make sure you don’t get eaten by a bear.”

“You have such a stick up your ass, Harrington.” You groaned, and that had become your thing. The bickering, the eye rolls, the sarcastic comments and storming away, everyone else found it hilarious. You and him were polar opposites, he didn’t know how to have fun, and you practically radiated it wherever you went.

Just as you stepped onto the backyard someone blocked your path. “Need company?”

You turned to find a guy you’d vaguely remembered from Hawkins High. “Josh, right?” You recalled.

His face lit up. “You remembered?” He grinned.

You matched it. “We had algebra 2 together, I have a decent memory.”

He leaned against the wall, looking at you curiously. “I’ve been trying to figure out how to talk to you all night.” He confessed.

“Oh?” You raised a brow, taken aback.

“You’ve kinda been surrounded by people.” He admitted. You laughed softly, holding your hands behind your back. From across the yard, you were unaware of Steve’s eyes on you, he hadn’t meant to stare. He’d only ventured outside because he lost sight of Dustin and wanted to make sure he was still okay.

Instead, there you are—laughing melodically, at some guy. Steve hadn’t realized he was frowning, not the usual one he wore, no, this one made the vein in his forehead twitch, the muscles in his hands clench into fists. He looked away just as he felt a hot surge in his chest, because he didn’t know why he was so upset about you looking at another guy softer than you’ve ever looked at him before.

“You wanna dance?” Josh asked, straightening up.

You looked toward the living room where bodies mingled to the beat, and you were never going to pass up an opportunity to have fun. “Why not?” You shrugged, taking his hand in yours with a smile.

Josh led you inside, all the way to the middle of the group where the light shined down on you both. The first strike happened once he leaned closer into your space, beginning to dance slowly as you shook your head with laughter.

The second strike happened when you raised your hands above your head, lightly grazing his shoulder and shouting the lyrics to a song that were definitely wrong.

The third strike happened when Josh had the nerve to place his hand onto your waist, a small but intimate placement, squeezing your skin and unconsciously bringing you closer. That’s when Steve had snapped.

“I’m feeling kind of parched.” You shouted over the music, beside his ear. “I’ll be right back.”

You didn’t wait for his nod before untangling yourself from him, laughing loudly as you searched for the drinks table nearby. Before your fingers could even wrap around a bottle, a familiar shadow cast over you. You looked up to find Steve already staring, his gaze unwavering.

“Can we talk?” He interrupted. Something in his voice made you pause, not softer, only tighter, like he was holding something back.

You sighed, intrigued by what he wanted from you now. “Fine.” Suddenly his hand wrapped around your wrist, leading you through the crowded house. “Steve?” You called his name, but he didn’t answer, just kept walking until he stopped in front of the guest bathroom.

“Steve.” He pushed the door open, you stepped inside. “What’s so important—”

The door locked shut behind you, you turned to find him blocking the exit, his broad shoulders nearly filling the doorway. Your heartbeat stumbled, not from fear, but the sudden closeness.

You crossed your arms, waiting. “Well?” You asked impatiently.

Steve took one step closer, then another, until it felt too daunting. You instinctively took a small step back, your shoulders met the wall, he noticed as neither of you were willing to look away first.

“Seriously?” You murmured. “You’re cornering me now?”

Steve’s gaze never left yours, only leaning closer so you could see the darkness surrounding his pupils. “What does he have that I don’t?” He ignored you, the jealousy spilling out before he could stop it.

Your breath hitched, confusion rattling you. “What are you talking about?” You asked carefully.

Steve’s jaw flexed, the room had gone quiet around you, the music reduced to a dull thump behind the bathroom door.

His eyes searched yours for a long moment before he repeated, slower this time. “What. Does. He. Have. That. I. Don’t?”

Your breath caught, for a split second, your composure cracked. Then you let out a weak, disbelieving laugh. “You’ve finally lost it, Harrington.” His expression didn’t change. “You’re drunk.”

“I haven’t had a single drink all night.” He rebutted quickly. Your smile faltered, as much as you wanted to believe he was lying, you knew it was true. Steve never drank at these parties so he could keep an eye on his friends, and partially because he hated the vulnerability of it.

You looked away first, trying to make sense of the conversion that had somehow spiraled completely out of control.

Steve laughed once, no hint of amusement. “You’ve known that guy for what, ten minutes?”

“So?” You challenged, not seeing the issue.

“So?” He echoed. “You let him put his hands on your waist.”

You blinked, remembering how you had danced together, Josh’s hand encapsulating your waist. “…What?”

“I watched him touch you.” His voice stayed remarkably calm, which somehow made the words hit even harder. “And you didn’t even stop him.”

You opened your mouth, nothing came out. Your lips pressed together again, giving up

“What?” Steve asked. A corner of his mouth tugged upward in a wicked smirk. “The chatty girl suddenly doesn’t have anything to say?” He mocked.

Your brows drew together. “What does it matter to you? Why do you care so much?” Your voice grew louder, the tension between you could be sliced with a knife.

“Because I hated it.” He gritted out, both of your chests panting heavily, trying to swallow the last ounce of air that remained.

You couldn’t take it anymore—he was insufferable, stubborn, and annoyingly handsome and—you reached up to pull him into a heated kiss. His lips were softer than you’d imagined, not that you imagined kissing Steve, how he would groan into your mouth, or instinctively pull you closer, his musky scent invading your senses.

Steve kissed you back passionately without hesitation, his hands flying to grip your waist tighter than Josh had, nails digging into your skin. The fight of your mouths wasn’t slow or gentle, he pushed his tongue past your bottom lip as yours fought for dominance, teeth clashing while your hands tugged on his long hairs.

“God, You drive me fucking insane.” He groaned, hooking his hands underneath your thighs to lift you onto the bathroom counter.

“Steve, don’t—mmh,” you sighed, his lips attached onto the side of your neck, sucking colorful marks as he kept a tight hold on you.

“Fuck—say that again.” Steve grunted, his thumb ghosting over your clothed nipple, you gasped at the touch, arching into him.

“W-What?” You stuttered out, unable to focus on his words while he kept kissing you so sweetly.

“My name, it sounds so good coming from your mouth, baby. Say it again.” Steve wasn’t asking, nothing he could ever drink could get him as high as the way you desperately said his name.

Your fingers tightened in his scalp, pulling him back up for another kiss. “Steve,” you moaned loudly, not caring if someone outside could hear.

He echoed your moan, clutching the edge of your skirt while he looked up at you. “Can I touch you, baby?” He asked, taking the time to verbally gain your consent.

You could cry from how patient he was being, not hesitating as you nodded furiously. “Yes, please, touch me.” You responded, watching as he bunched the fabric around your hips, palming your covered cunt.

“Haven’t even touched you yet and you’re already so wet f’me.” Steve brushed over the wet spot, slightly applying pressure right over your clit.

Your jaw dropped open, sparks of pleasure shooting through you. “Ohh, Steve!” He pushed your panties to the side, watching your reaction with hooded lids as he teased you, running a single finger through your folds.

“Yeah? You need me, baby? Knew this pussy was mine, even before I touched it.” He spoke in a syrupy tone. The thought of Steve thinking about having you like this made more arousal leak out of you, soaking the inside of your thigh.

“It’s—shit—all yours, Steve.” You replied in a high pitch, feeling him dip his middle finger inside of you, curling it inwards. Your head knocked back against the mirror behind you, making it shake slightly as he fingered you painfully slow. “M-More, please, fuck me.” You begged between ragged breaths, your walls sucking him back in with each shallow thrust.

Steve suddenly pulled his finger out, making you whine in frustration before you noticed his hands unbuckling his belt, strands of hair falling over his eyes as he stayed focused. He shoved his pants and boxers down in one movement, allowing his flushed cock to pop out unrestrained. Steve hissed, wrapping a hand around the base and stroking upwards.

You were distracted by the sight for a moment, caught off guard when he reached for you, placing your legs back on the floor and spinning you around so that your front pushed against the counter, Steve knocking your knees apart behind you.

The only thing that left your mouth was a string of moans as pushed his length inside of you in one long thrust, Steve throwing his head back. “Mmf—fuck,” you gasped, never having felt this full before.

He was everywhere, your stomach, all the way in your throat, just Steve. All thoughts of Josh had evaporated from your mind, replaced by heavy thrusts as he molded your bodies together. “Such a tight, wet, cunt. Feels just like home.” Steve grunted, leaning over to bite your shoulder lightly.

When he lifted his head again, his eyes caught onto the sight reflected on the mirror. You, bent over with your hands outstretched in front of you, gasping on gulps of air as jumbled sounds left your mouth every time his tip reached your cervix.

His hand tangled into your hair, gripping and angling your head downwards to whisper in your ear. “Look at you crying all over my cock.” He rasped, your eyes connected with his in the reflection, heart thundering against your chest. “You look like a fucking piece of art.”

You clenched around him, not knowing what turned you on more, his words, or the spectacle of the boy you hated having you bent over for him. “Ngh, f-fuck!” Your face reddened as the pleasure inside you grew, his pace impossibly increasing.

“Keep your eyes on yourself, baby. If I catch you looking away you’re not finishing, got that?” Steve asked, you were already close to cumming, and the chance of not getting to, scared you above everything else.

You moaned out a response, fighting to keep your eyes open. “O-Okay, Steve!” Your mind was becoming clouded by pleasure, moving your hips back to match his thrusts every time he pushed back in.

Steve was holding out for as long as possible, he couldn’t believe he got you like this, and he was going to enjoy it to the last possible second. When he spotted your lashes fluttering, he fucked you roughly and slapped your ass with a loud smack sounding. “What did I just say?” All hints of softness disappeared from his voice.

You whimpered, biting your bottom lip and forcing your eyes back open. “Steve—ugh—I’m cumming!” Your legs shook, struggling to keep you upright while Steve continued fucking you without pausing, not far off himself.

“Fuck, you’re all mine—gonna cum inside you, you hear me? No one else can touch you but me.” He growled, thrusts turning sloppy and body shuddering as he finally came, rocking slowly to fill you up.

It was a miracle no one came knocking on the bathroom door, you had completely forgotten there were other people around, resting the side of your head against the cold counter for a couple moments before picking yourself back up again.

Steve leaned his head in the crook of your neck, swaying you side to side lightly as his hands remained wrapped around your waist, breathing into your ear. “Don’t let me go. Please.” He whispered so softly you almost missed it.

You brought your own hand over his, rubbing your thumb across his knuckles. “I won’t. I promise, Steve.” At your reassurance he pressed a kiss to your cheek, making no rush to get back out to the party.

However, your close moment was interrupted once a knock sounded on the other side of the door. “Hurry up, I need to pee!” Someone yelled.

You couldn’t help but giggle quietly, Steve huffed, glaring daggers at whoever was behind the door. “Guess that’s our sign.”

By noon, you had only been alone for approximately three minutes, until the mattress dipped beside you, you didn’t even have to look. “Honey, I thought you were supposed to be folding the laundry.”

Steve stretched out dramatically across the bed, one hand hanging off the edge towards the floor. “But I missed you.” He pouted.

“You know we’re in the same house, right?” You lifted a brow at him, not falling for this theatrics so easily.

He looked up at you with the most serious expression imaginable. “My heart does.” He sighed.

Your jaw dropped, picking up a pillow to throw straight at his chest. “That's the cheesiest thing you’ve ever said, Harrington.” You exclaimed.

Steve scoffed loudly, rushing to sit up. “You think my suffering is amusing, Mrs. Harrington?” Before you could answer, he snatched the nearest pillow off the bed.

“Weren’t not even married—”

The pillow hit you with a soft thump. “Yet!” He corrected.

A laugh escaped you as you grabbed another soft pillow and swung it in retaliation. Steve barely ducked in time, as it grazed the top of his hair.

“Hey, ouch!” He protested after taking one square to the nose.

You shook your head, giggling at him. “You deserved that!” Steve lunged forward with an indignant grin, trying to steal your weapon from your hands.

You darted around the bed, your never ending laughter made it hard to avoid him. “You can’t catch me!” You screamed.

“You underestimate my determination!” And with one final burst of momentum, he reached you, the pillow slipping from your hands as both toppled onto the bed in a heap of laughter.

Steve caught himself before he could crush you with his weight, bracing himself on his forearms with a triumphant smile. “Gotcha.”

You looked up at him, trying, but failing to suppress your grin. “You broke the rules,” you retorted.

“There are no rules.” He tilted his head at you. “You just don’t wanna accept defeat.”

You squirmed, attempting to wiggle free. “Uh-uh, not so quick.” You pushed against his chest, but Steve’s fingers found your sides, your weakness.

You burst into laughter instantly. “S-Steve!” You choked out between breaths.

He only gave you a few light tickles before pausing. “Ready to surrender?” His eyebrows lifted expectantly.

You paused for a moment, before sighing unwillingly. “…Fine.”

Steve squinted his eyes at you. “Louder.” He instructed.

“I surrender!” At that, Steve threw both hands into the air in victory.

The room gradually fell quiet again as the laughter faded, Steve shifted so there was more room for you to settle comfortably.

Without another word, he pulled a blanket over the two of you and wrapped an arm around your shoulders. “There.” He murmured softly. “Much better.”

You let yourself relax against him, the earlier chaos replaced by the comfortable stillness that always seemed to find the two of you after moments like these.

“I thought you were supposed to be helping me around the house today?” You asked with an amused shake of your head.

“I am helping.” Steve shrugged. “You needed a break, so I gave you one.”

You pretended to think it over. “Thats a good argument, but you could’ve just admitted you hate doing chores.”

“I hate doing chores.” He grumbled, sinking closer to you.

“And…?” You continued for him.

“And I love you.” Steve whispered.

You smiled, pressing a kiss to his forehead and patting his huge mop of hair. “Thats a good boy.” He pretended not to hear it, choosing peace over violence.

He couldn't be more than a year or two older than you.

Maybe not older at all.

He's got the kind of face rich boys seem to keep well into their thirties: hazel eyes that catch warmth in the low chandelier light, a strong nose and soft, full lips. Thick brown hair that refuses to stay in place, falling forward in a way that looks accidental even though you know it probably took a 300-dollar haircut to make it look that effortless.

He's dressed simply—pale blue Oxford shirt with the sleeves rolled to his forearms and dark slacks—but everything about him is stupidly expensive if you know what you're looking for.   

The watch, the loafers. The clean, understated cologne and the heavy gold signet ring on his left hand.

Old money.

Of course.

Another trust-fund prince getting dragged in by his daddy to “learn the family business.”

You grab the bourbon ordered for seat four—two fingers of Woodford Reserve over fresh ice—and carry it across the room.

He glances up as you set the glass beside him.

Unfortunately...

He's somehow even better-looking up close.

His eyes are stupidly big, lashes stupidly long. There's a scattering of tiny moles across his left cheek, little imperfections that stop him from looking carved out of marble.

Rich boy's got a nice face.

Shame about everything else.

His eyes catch yours for a moment before he gives you a polite nod.

“Thanks, honey.”

Then his attention drops right back to his cards.

You blink.

Honey?

Who the fuck is this guy?

He's your age.

Maybe younger.

You've got seventy-year-old regulars who've been calling waitresses “sweetheart” and “doll” since before you were born, but somehow hearing it from someone who probably still remembers freshman orientation is infinitely more irritating.

You turn on your heel before he catches the expression crossing your face.

Trust-fund asshole.

Probably couldn't tell you what a gallon of milk costs if you put a gun to his head.

Fuck that guy.

· · ·

Well.

Turns out, trust-fund asshole is good at poker.

Disgustingly good.

He’s not loud about it either; that’s what the older men hate most.

For almost an hour, he folds hand after hand, absently spinning that signet ring around his finger while everyone else slowly convinces themselves that he's way out of his depth.

So it's almost funny, when this twenty-something-year-old cleans out someone who's been playing cards since before he was born.

You have to bite back a laugh when one of the regulars slams his cards down hard enough to rattle everyone's glasses.

Serves him right.

By the time you make another round, half the table is bleeding chips.

Everyone's in a foul mood.

Everyone except for seat four.

You set another Woodford beside him.

“Thanks, honey.”

He smiles, this time.

The corners of his hazel eyes pinch with it, little creases fanning outward. It gives him an almost boyish look, rounding out his cheeks, smoothing away the sharp lines of his face until there’s something disarmingly gentle about him.

Huh.

Then he goes right back to looking at his cards.

Asshole.

· · ·

The game finally breaks sometime after midnight.

You're clearing glasses when you notice a thick wad of cash tucked under silver-spoon dickhead's—seat four's—empty tumbler.

You assume it's meant for the cashier... until you pick it up.

It's all hundreds.

A lot of hundreds.

You count it once. Then again. Then a third time because surely, surely, there’s no way.

Your head snaps up toward the entrance and find him standing by the coat room, shrugging into a camel-colored cashmere overcoat that could probably cover your student loans three times over.    

You hurry after him before common sense can stop you.

“Hey! Um, excuse me!”

He turns.

“I think, uh...” You hold up the money. “I think you made a mistake.”

His eyes drift over your face, then flick down to the wad of cash pinched between your fingers—fifty crisp hundred-dollar bills.   

He blinks at you, those ridiculous lashes fanning against his cheeks, his brows drawing together like he honestly can't figure out why you’ve chased him down.  

A tiny little crease appears between his brows, which would almost be cute if he wasn't so disgustingly wealthy.

“Did I?”

“...Yeah.”

He studies the cash for another second before understanding dawns on his face.

“Oh.” He gives a small shrug. “No.”

“No?”

“That wasn’t a mistake. It was for you.”

You laugh, because that's insane.

To someone who just walked away with well over a hundred thousand dollars, five grand probably feels like buying coffee.

To you, it's rent. It's gas, tuition, groceries, bills. An entire semester where you wouldn't have to hold you breath every time you swiped your debit card.

“I... I can't take this.”

His brows pull together again. “Why not?”

You stare at him.

“Because it's... five thousand dollars? That's—” You huff another disbelieving laugh. “I mean, that's just... way too much for a tip.”

He glances back toward the card room, then back at you.

Smiles, just a little.

“Didn't seem like too much from where I was sitting.”

You open your mouth, but nothing comes out.

And before you can think of another reason to refuse a tip worth more than your savings account, he's already shrugging the rest of his coat on, straightening the lapel with an absent swipe of his thumb.

He turns toward the door, making it only three steps before he pauses.

One hand settled on the brass handle, he glances back over his shoulder.

“You're here Thursdays, right?”

It takes you a second to answer.

“...Yeah?”

His smile comes back.

“Great.”

He tucks his hands into his coat pockets, gives you a little nod, and heads for the door.

“I'll see you next week, honey.”

And then he's gone.

· · ·

He comes back the next Thursday.

And the Thursday after that.

By week five, you've learned his name.

By week six, you've stopped rolling your eyes every time he calls you honey.

By week seven, he starts lingering after the games instead of disappearing the second the last hand is dealt.

One night, you're hauling a crate of empty glasses toward the bar when, without warning, the weight disappears.

You glance up to see a pair of hazel eyes blinking down at you—a warm, boyish smile on those plush lips, almost sheepish, like he's not sure if you're going to let him help or tell him to get lost.  

You raise a brow. “Uh, I'm pretty sure that's not your job.”

“No, it’s not,” he agrees easily.

“Then why are you doing it?”

He shrugs like the answer couldn't possibly be complicated.

“Gets me an extra five minutes.”

“Five minutes?”

“With you.”

He says it so casually that it takes a second for the words to actually land.

And when your face flares with heat, you’re grateful he’s too busy balancing the crate to notice.

· · ·

After that, Thursdays become a little easier.

The job is still the job—the endless dance of dodging wandering hands, stepping away from men who mistake a smile for an invitation and politely slipping your wrist free from people old enough to know better.

But Steve Harrington becomes your bright spot.

He never touches you unless you’re handing him a glass.

He’s the only man in the room who doesn’t let his eyes linger on your ass or snap his fingers to get your attention.  

He always arrives ten minutes early.

Always orders the same Woodford Reserve. Always says thank you.

Always calls you honey.

You learn little things about him.

That he tips everyone far more than necessary.

That he folds cocktail napkins into perfect little squares whenever he’s lost in thought.

That his thumb always finds the gold signet ring on his finger when he’s making a decision.

That he taps it twice against the felt whenever he’s nervous about a bluff.

(You never tell him you figured that one out.)

You learn that Steve doesn’t talk much about his work or his family.  

Instead, he asks about you.

Your classes, your major. The exam you mentioned weeks ago that he somehow remembers without you ever bringing it up again.

You tell yourself he’s probably just like that with everyone.

That Steve Harrington is simply the kind of person who makes people feel noticed.

Special.

You never quite believe it.

· · ·

One Thursday, the game wraps up just before midnight after two of the regulars call it early.

The older men filter out puffing expensive cigars, grumbling about bad beats and rematches.

You're halfway through counting your tips when Steve appears beside the bar.

Hands tucked into the pockets of a navy wool coat, rocking back on his heels.

He waits until you look up.

“Hi.”

“Hey.”

And Steve Harrington—poker prodigy, heir to whatever impossible amount of money his family had sitting around—suddenly looks unsure of himself.

Which is new.

And, admittedly, a little adorable.

You set your money down.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah.” He answers too quickly, then clears his throat. “Yeah. I just—can I ask you something?”

You eye him suspiciously.

“With you? Depends.”

A small smile pulls at his mouth.

“Fair.”

He pulls his hand from his coat pocket, resting it on the bar between you. His thumb brushes over the gold signet ring on his finger, twisting it slowly.

“Well, I was just wondering, if you're done for the night...”    

Tap. Tap.

Two soft taps against the bar top.

You bite back a smile.

“Would you let me take you to dinner?”

You blink.

“...Right now?”

“Yeah.”

“It's midnight.”

“Late dinner, then?”

His expression is so serious that you have to bite back another laugh.

Steve watches you, a faint smile tugging at his own mouth.

“What?”

You shake your head, reaching for your jacket.

“Nothing.”

“No, what?”

You look back at him, pursing your lips.

“You’re just... so different from what I thought you’d be.”

He tilts his head slightly, a flicker of amusement creasing his expression. He’s not offended in the slightest—if anything, he looks intrigued.

Steve Harrington has never been someone who seemed bothered by other people’s opinions of him.

“In a good way or a bad way?”

You consider him for a moment, taking in the guy you were so sure you had figured out from the second he walked through the door.

This boy you’d dismissed as just another entitled douchebag, who turned out to be so downright strange—awkward where you expected arrogance, thoughtful where you expected indifference.

You can't help but smile.

“Ask me again after dinner.”