currently daydreaming

“And that, my dear friend, was without a doubt the best ice cream you will ever taste,” Robin announces. She throws her hands up in the air before slumping back against the booth’s red vinyl seat, stretching her legs out so far under the table that her sneakers bump against yours.

You laugh softly, shaking your head as you scrape the very last drop of melted vanilla from the edge of your small paper cup. 

“I think you might be just a little bit biased,” you reply, raising an eyebrow at her.

Robin gasps loudly, clutching her hands to her chest.

“Biased? Me? Oh, okay. Wow. So what you’re actually saying is that you didn’t like it. Fine. My heart is completely broken.”

You can’t help the grin spreading across your face. Grabbing a crumpled, slightly sticky napkin from the center of the table, you toss it straight across at her and she just catches it mid-air, grinning like a kid who had just won a prize at a carnival booth.

“She’s actually right, you know,” Nancy speaks from across the table, setting down her paper cup. She takes a slow sip of her water through a straw before looking up with a sly, knowing smile. “You’re only saying that because you spent an entire year stuck behind that counter wearing a ridiculous sailor costume. You still have that desperate salesperson instinct trapped deep inside your brain.”

Beside Nancy, Jonathan drags Nancy’s half-eaten chocolate sundae an inch closer to his side of the table, and steals a massive spoonful.

Nancy catches him mid-bite. She gives him a look that is supposed to be stern and annoying, but the slight curve of her lips completely ruins the effect. She doesn’t even try to pull the bowl back. She just lets him eat it.

Robin rolls her eyes so hard you think they might get stuck in the back of her head, but she can’t hide the fond, playful smirk tugging at the corners of her lips. 

“You guys have zero appreciation for true culinary art. I worked hard in those trenches. I survived the endless loop of pop music and sticky floors. I earned the right to praise the cream!”

Listening to them bicker, you lean back against the backrest and let your gaze wander across the bright, buzzing floor of the place.

The mall feels like a universe entirely separate from the rest of the world. It’s drown in bright fluorescent lights, glowing neon pink and blue signs, and the constant hum of human activity. The air smells intensely of buttered popcorn, sweet cinnamon rolls, bleach, and expensive perfume. Kids run around in groups, their laughter echoing off the polished tile floors while their parents drag shopping bags from store to store, enjoying a quiet evening out. It’s vibrant, loud, and full of an overwhelming sense of life.

It’s completely, starkly different from the town waiting just outside those heavy glass doors.

It isn’t that you disliked Hawkins. It’s just that there’s a feeling you can’t quite put your finger on. Hawkins has an aura that manages to be strange and deeply unsettling, yet somehow strange and nostalgic all at the exact same time. It’s as if the town is holding its breath, keeping a massive secret that no outsider was ever supposed to learn.

But, isn’t it like that with every town? Even your own feels like that.

The thing is that, right now, the center of the mystery feels like it’s standing only fifty feet away from you.

You turn your head slightly, letting your eyes drift toward the ice cream counter.

There he is.

Steve’s leaning lazily against the high counter of the shop. His posture is effortless, one elbow propping up his weight while his other hand is shoved deep into the pocket of his denim jacket. 

He’s bent forward, whispering something directly into the ear of the girls working the register. Whatever he says makes her burst into a fit of giggles, her cheeks turning bright red as she buries her face behind her hands to hide her smile.

A sudden, sharp knot tightens right in the center of your chest. The sweet taste of the ice cream in your mouth turns sour in an instant. Your stomach flips nervously, forcing you to tear your eyes away and stare back down at your empty cardboard cup. 

You and Steve haven’t really talked. 

Not properly. 

Not since that day at the lake.

Ever since then, he has been acting strange. 

Sure, he still shows up whenever the group organizes a hangout. He has been there when the crew decides to show you around town, driving his car while pointing out local landmarks with a casual flick of his wrist. 

He has been there when Jonathan dragged everyone deep into the woods to help carry his heavy photography equipment for his project, leaning against a pine tree and tossing smart remarks into the cool forest air.

On the surface, he seemed like the same Steve everyone knows — funny, slightly arrogant, quick with a joke. But to you, his presence feels entirely different.

His presence is around you like a ghost. And frankly, it’s driving you crazy.

It frustrates you to your very core, because you have genuinely believed that coming to Hawkins would change things between you two. 

Back in the big city, there are always distractions, crowds, and the constant noise of a fast-paced life that seems to keep him guarded. You have thought that once he was back in his hometown, surrounded by his closest friends and familiar surroundings, something inside him would finally unlock. 

You thought the walls he keeps around himself would crumble, allowing you to finally see who he truly is.

Instead, being here seems to have made everything worse.

He feels more distant now than he ever has in the city. He feels absent, even when he’s sitting in the very same room as you. He’s like a shadow slipping through your fingers every time you try to reach out and grab him.

And yet, despite the distance, despite the growing wall of silence between you, your body stubbornly refuses to forget him.

Every time you close your eyes, you can still feel the heat of his hands gently but firmly over your curves. You can still feel the weight of his body pressed against yours, the rhythm of his breathing, and the warmth of his lips moving against yours in the dark. 

The memory of his touch burns you, making your skin burn with a sudden, frustrating wave of heat.

“Ready to go?”

Robin’s voice takes you out of your thoughts. You blink rapidly, pulling yourself out of the memory, and look up from your ruined paper cup. She’s already standing up from the booth, slinging her bag over her shoulder.

You swallow hard, clearing the tightness from your throat, and give a quick, reassuring nod.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m ready.”

Before you can even fully pull yourself out of the booth, Robin turns toward the counter.

“Steve!” she shouts, her voice ringing out loud and clear.

Your heart instantly does a violent, terrifying flip in your chest. You grab your jacket off the back of the seat, slipping your arms through the sleeves and zipping it up to your chest as a desperate attempt to give your shaking hands something to do.

Steve turns his head toward the noise. Seeing Robin waving at him, he says a final word to the blushing girl at the counter, who gives him a small wave goodbye. He pushes himself off the counter and walks over to your table.

As he gets closer, you notice a red cherry lollipop tucked into the side of his mouth, the plastic stick poking out between his lips. He shifts it from one side of his mouth to the other with his tongue, his dark eyes scanning the group before finally landing on you for a brief, fraction of a second.

“Hey,” Steve says, his voice smooth but lacking any real warmth. “You guys go ahead without me. I think I’m gonna hang around here for a bit longer, alright?”

You can’t help yourself — you glance past his shoulder. The girl from the counter is still watching him, leaning over the register and twisting a long strand of hair around her index finger.

The implication hits you like a bucket of ice water. A bitter feeling washes over you. You bite the inside of your cheek, forcing yourself to look anywhere else — at the floor, at the polished table, at the bright lights — anything to avoid looking him in the eye.

Robin, however, immediately crosses her arms and glares at him with complete disbelief.

“No, no, no,” Robin says, her tone leaving absolutely zero room for negotiation. “Absolutely not. Someone has to drive her home, Steve. I already told you, Nancy and Jonathan are dropping me off at Vickie’s place.” She pulls her denim jacket tighter around her shoulders, shaking her head firmly.

Steve stops sucking on his lollipop. His eyebrows pull together in a deep frown, and his tone instantly shifts, growing visibly annoyed. 

“Why can’t she just ride with you guys?”

“Because Vickie’s house is on the complete opposite side of town, Steve!” Robin shoots back, stepping closer to him and matching his frustrated energy.

“So what?” Steve argues, his voice rising as he tosses his head back in irritation. “It’s Hawkins, Robin! It’s not like it’s a three-hour cross-country road trip! It adds maybe ten minutes to their drive!”

“Steve! You literally promised me earlier today that you’d take care of it!”

“I didn’t promise anything!” Steve snaps back, taking the lollipop out of his mouth and pointing the plastic stick at her accusingly. “I said that if I was available, I would think about—!”

“Hey, don’t worry about it,” your soft, quiet voice suddenly cuts straight through their loud, back-and-forth bickering. “It’s really not a big deal,” you continue softly, trying your absolute best to sound completely unaffected by the whole scene. “I can just figure something out. You guys don’t need to argue about it.”

“NO!”

The word burst out of both Steve and Robin at the exact same time, whipping their heads around to face you directly.

Steve lets out a heavy, dramatic groan that sounds like it comes from the very bottom of his lungs. He runs a hand through his hair, completely messing it up before dragging his palm down over his face.

“Fine,” Steve mutters through his fingers, his voice muffled and deeply annoyed. He drops his hand, glaring at Robin with pure irritation. “Fine. But you owe me big time for this.”

Robin doesn’t hesitate for a single second. She swings her arm and slaps him hard on the shoulder with the back of her hand. 

“You’re the one who owes me his entire life, you miserable grump.”

“You’re unbelievably exhausting, you know that?” Steve grumbles, putting the lollipop back into his mouth.

“And you’re an absolute idiot,” Robin replies with a sweet, fake smile.

“Okay! Okay, that’s definitely enough out of both of you,” Nancy interrupts, stepping smoothly between the two of them before the argument can escalate any further. She grabs Robin firmly by the forearm, gently tugging her toward the main corridor of the mall. She turns to look at you, her eyes softening with a warm, supportive look. “We’re heading out. We’ll see you tomorrow, okay? Call me if you need anything.”

“Yeah, see you guys tomorrow,” Jonathan adds, giving you a small, kind nod of understanding as he picks up his camera bag and follows Nancy.

Robin gives you a quick, reassuring wave over her shoulder as Nancy pulls her along down the hallway. 

“Bye! Don’t let him do stupid shit!” she calls out, her voice echoing off the tall ceilings until the three of them finally disappear around the corner toward the main exit doors.

The sudden silence that settles between you is deafening.

The bright neon lights of the mall suddenly felt far too harsh, casting long, sharp shadows across the floor. The distant sounds of pop music and laughs feel miles away, leaving only the sound of your own quiet, steady breathing.

Steve stands a few feet away from you, his body turned slightly to the side. He shoves his hands back deep into his jacket pockets, his posture stiff and rigid. He stares off toward the center fountain for a long, agonizing moment, the jawline of his face tight as he sucks absently on his lollipop.

Finally, he lets out a long, heavy breath through his nose. He shifts his weight, his hands remaining in his pockets as he gestures vaguely toward the glass exit doors down the hall with a quick tilt of his chin.

“After you,” he says softly. His voice lacks the sharpness it held during his argument with Robin, but it’s cold, flat, and completely devoid of emotion.

You don’t say a word.

You simply wrap your jacket tighter around your chest to shield yourself from the chill in the air, and begin walking toward the exit. Steve falls into step beside you, keeping a careful, agonizing distance of three feet between your shoulders as you walk side-by-side through the empty corridors.

As you push through the heavy glass doors and step out into the cool night air, a heavy weight settles deep inside your chest and realization settles inside your heart.

No matter what happened between you in the dark, no matter how real his touch felt on your skin, the reality is staring you right in the face: Steve is actively pushing you away, hiding behind walls you have no idea how to break down… again.

—

If it weren’t for the music coming out of the car radio, the silence between the two of you would be completely unbearable.

The speakers buzz with the beat of Would I Lie to You? by Eurythmics. The baseline fills the dark interior of the car, and the lyrics float through the air, sounding almost sarcastic right now.

"Would I lie to you?

Would I lie to you, honey?

Now would I say something that wasn’t true?"

You let out a long sigh, turning your head away from the passenger window to look at him.

The lights of the quiet town reflect on his face. They trace the sharp line of his jaw and highlight his profile in a way that honestly takes your breath away, even when you’re this furious with him. 

"You really didn’t need to give me a ride," you say. Your voice cuts through the music, sharp and cold. "I could have managed on my own."

Steve doesn’t look at you. His eyes remain glued to the dark road ahead, but you see his jaw tighten. His fingers flex on the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white from how hard he is gripping it.

"Yeah, right," he mutters, his voice low and raspy. "Sure you could. Who were you gonna ask? You don’t know a single soul here."

You shrug your shoulders, leaning back against the cold seat and crossing your arms over your chest.

"People seem nice enough around here," you reply, keeping your tone casual just to get under his skin. "I’m sure someone would have given me a lift."

Steve lets out a small, sarcastic laugh that holds zero humor.

"Sure," he says. "Great plan."

You stare at the side of his face, feeling the frustration bubble up in your chest. It has been building for days, sitting heavy like a stone in your stomach, and you can’t keep it inside anymore.

"I don’t get it," you say softly, turning your body slightly toward him. "I really don’t understand why you brought me along if my presence bothers you so much."

"I never said it bothered me," he snaps back instantly.

"Well, you’re certainly acting like it!"

"What is that supposed to mean?" Steve frowns, his forehead creasing as he glances at you for half a second before returning his focus to the road.

"I don’t know, Steve! You tell me!" You throw your hands up slightly. "You haven’t said more than five words to me in days. Feels like you literally walk out of the room every time I walk in. You’re completely avoiding me, so maybe it’s ringing a bell?"

He rolls his eyes and laughs again, that same dry, bitter sound.

"What? Are you keeping score now? Counting the exact number of times we talk?" 

"No," you say, your voice dipping lower, hurt creeping into the edges of your words despite your best efforts to sound angry. "No, I’m not counting. I just... I expected you not to pretend I don’t exist after everything that happened between us."

Steve rolls his eyes again, letting out a loud sigh of annoyance.

You let out a harsh, sarcastic laugh of your own. 

"Yeah, classic. Keep doing that. Keep pretending it’s nothing. You know what your problem is, Steve? You act like you’re so mature, like you’re completely over everything and nothing touches you. But the second things get even a little bit serious, you’re the absolute first one to run away."

Steve immediately raises one hand off the wheel, holding it up in defense.

"Who ran away?" he asks, his voice rising. "I’m right here! I’m literally driving you right now!"

You roll your eyes, shaking your head in total disbelief.

"Being here physically doesn’t mean you’re actually here, Steve. Damn it. I really thought... I really believed that coming here was going to change something between us."

A sudden, sharp silence falls over the car. The radio music seems to fade into the background as the weight of your words settles in the air.

Steve slows down the car slightly, his voice dropping into a dangerous, quiet tone. 

"Change what?"

You sigh, turning your face back toward the window, watching the town slide by in the dark.

"Nothing, Steve. Forget it."

"No," he says, his tone firm, unyielding. "Tell me. Change what?"

"I don’t know, Steve! This!" You point a finger back and forth between him and yourself. "Whatever the hell is happening right here! I thought coming to your hometown would let me see a side of you that I hadn’t seen before. That it wouldn't just be whatever polished version you want to show me — or even the stuff you try to hide that leaks out anyway!"

Steve bites the inside of his cheek, his gaze locked firmly on the dark road ahead.

"Well," he says, his voice flat and distant. "Those are just ideas you made up in your head."

You stare at him, a nervous, disbelieving laugh escaping your lips.

"Oh, right. So I’m the crazy one now? I just made up the idea that maybe — just maybe — something real was happening between us?" You shake your head, feeling a sting behind your eyes that you refuse to let turn into tears. "Damn it. Forgive me, then. My mistake. But I guess you’re used to this, aren’t you? Used to girls having all these huge feelings for you, believing in something that isn’t actually there—"

Before you can finish your sentence, Steve yanks the steering wheel hard to the right.

The tires screech against the asphalt as the car makes a sharp, sudden turn onto a narrow, dark road. You gasped loudly, your body swaying with the momentum as you frantically grab onto the door handle and the edge of your seat to balance yourself.

"Steve! What the hell—!"

You look out the windshield, your heart hammering against your ribs. There are no streetlights here. The headlights of the BMW slice through total darkness, illuminating tall pine trees lining both sides of a rough, dirt road. The car begins to climb, engine straining as it pushes up a steep hill.

If it were anyone else driving — if you were in a car with a stranger on an unmarked, pitch-black dirt trail in the middle of nowhere — you would be terrified. Your instinct would be to scream or fight to get out.

But it’s Steve.

Despite your anger, despite the hurt burning in your chest, there is something deeply rooted inside you that trusts him. Even when he’s infuriating, even when he shuts you out behind invisible walls, you trust him with your safety. You trust him with your life.

The car bumps over gravel and exposed tree roots, climbing higher and higher until the trees begin to thin out.

Finally, Steve brings the car to a stop right near the edge of a high cliff. The headlamps shut off, plunging the car into ambient moonlight.

He lets out a massive, heavy sigh, dropping his hands off the steering wheel. But he doesn’t turn to look at you. He just stares straight ahead at the vast space beyond the hood of the car.

"There," he says, his voice sharp and blunt.

You blink, shifting in your seat, your tone caught somewhere between irritation and genuine curiosity. 

"There... what?"

"You wanted to see something more than what I let you see," he says, resting his arms on the wheel again, his head bowed slightly. "Well. Here it is."

You turn your head to look out the window, completely confused at first.

Outside, high pine trees frame a wide open view. From this spot, at the highest point above the town, you can look down and see the distant, tiny lights of Hawkins spread out below like a handful of glowing dust. Above you, the sky is completely open, dark blue and clear, dusted with thousands of bright stars.

And then, like a physical touch, it hits you.

A memory washes over you, leaving a deep, sudden warmth in its wake that you can’t even describe.

You remember that time coming back from the store where he told you about that place he used to go when he was younger, biking up with his friends on summer nights. He told you how he would stand right at the edge, looking down at the small lights of the town, feeling like he was completely untouchable. Like he was at the top of the universe.

The King of the world.

 King Steve.

You look back at him now. The anger in your chest begins to dissolve, replaced by a strange, aching tenderness.

Steve’s jaw is still clamped tight. He’s looking out his side window, giving you a full view of his sharp profile against the moonlight.

He reaches into his jacket pocket, his movements quick and tense. He pulls out another small lollipop, tears off the crinkly plastic wrapping with his teeth, and pops it into his mouth. 

You notice the nervous habit now — something to keep his hands busy, something to keep him from smoking or saying things he regrets.

You squeeze your hands tightly into fists in your lap. You have to fight with every ounce of willpower you possess to hold back the sudden, overwhelming urge to reach across the console and pull him close to you.

Instead, you just force yourself to look straight ahead out the windshield, trying to steady your heavy breathing.

The quiet inside the car stretches out, long and delicate. The sound of the wind rustling the pine trees outside is the only thing filling the space.

Then, Steve’s voice breaks the quiet.

"I’m not avoiding you," he says.

The words are quiet, almost lost in the dark space between you. You look down at your hands, tracing the seams of your jeans.

"It really doesn’t feel that way, Steve..." you answer, keeping your voice soft, but direct.

"It’s not that I want to," he says.

Slowly, Steve turns his head to look at you.

It’s completely impossible not to look back. His eyes catch the pale moonlight streaming through the windows. The sharpness in his face is gone, replaced by a raw, open vulnerability that makes your heart ache. He looks at you with those deep, heavy eyes — eyes that look like a sad, beaten-up puppy.

"It’s just that..." He pauses, running a hand over his face with a long, exhausted sigh. He throws his head back against the headrest, staring up at the dark roof of the car. "Everything she said is true. She was right. I’m just a stupid idiot, and I can’t keep dragging you along with me, even when I—"

You tilt your head, your eyebrows drawing together as you try to piece together his scattered words.

"Robin?" you ask, trying to figure out who he’s talking about. "Did Robin say something to you?"

Steve shakes his head quickly, his eyes still fixed on the ceiling.

"Nancy," he whispers.

Your heart feels like it stops dead in your chest. A cold shiver runs down your spine.

Suddenly, you remember the exact look on Nancy’s face when she ran into you and Steve near the lake the other day. She had looked at the two of you, then at Robin, with a look that was far too sharp, far too knowing.

She knew. She definitely knew there was something going on between you two.

"What... what did she say to you?" you ask quietly.

Steve lowers his head, shaking it slowly.

"Don’t worry," he says, trying to reassure you. "Robin doesn’t know anything. Nancy swore on it."

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, your shoulders dropping slightly.

"But," Steve continues, his voice tight, "Nancy told me that if we keep doing this — if we keep running around like this — she was definitely going to tell Robin. And she told me that I’m being selfish. That I get people hurt. That I drag people into my mess without thinking about what happens to them."

You sigh, turning your eyes up toward the car ceiling for a second before turning back to face him fully.

"I really... I just don’t get it, Steve," you say, your voice desperate for answers. "I don’t understand why us being together has to be this massive, dramatic problem. Why is it such a big deal that we—"

"You don’t have to understand it!" Steve cuts you off sharply.

He sits up straight, his hands gripping the steering wheel again, though his voice lacks any real anger now. It just sounds tired. Worn out.

"You don’t have to understand it," he repeats softly, looking at you. "You just... you just have to accept it."

A bitter, disbelieving laugh escapes your chest.

"Accept it?" you say, your tone instantly hardening. "Right. Accept it. Just like I’m supposed to accept it when you show up at my door in the middle of the night bruised, beaten up, and bleeding?"

Steve flinches slightly, but stays silent.

"Or just like I’m supposed to accept watching you beat the absolute hell out of some guy in an alleyway?" Your voice rises, sharp and heavy with all the unsaid fear you’ve been carrying for weeks. "Is that what you mean? Just accept the crazy, dangerous secrets you’re keeping from me without asking a single question?"

Steve’s eyes soften for a fraction of a second, filled with a sudden flash of pain. But then, right before your eyes, the wall goes back up. His posture stiffens, his jaw sets into a firm, stubborn line, and he turns his face away to stare back out into the dark night. He bites down hard on his lower lip, refusing to say another word.

You wait. You sit there in the dim light, watching him, waiting for him to defend himself, to give you an explanation, to say anything.

But nothing comes.

It’s a response you have grown far too accustomed to over the past few weeks: total, impenetrable silence.

Not just from him. But from everyone else.

Realizing that you aren’t going to get an answer — that he’s hiding behind his walls once again — you pull your gaze away from him. You turn back to your own window, staring out at the distant, cold lights of the town down below, biting the inside of your cheek so hard it hurts, wrapped in a silence that feels heavier than ever before.

"Who’s Dylan?" 

The question breaks the silence.

Your heart squishes violently in your chest for a second. The sudden change of topic is so abrupt that it catches you completely off guard. It’s so painfully obvious that Steve wants to steer the conversation away from him. 

But it isn’t just his sharp deflection that makes your breathing falter — it’s the simple mention of that specific name.

You turn your head slowly, staring out the passenger window at the dark silhouette of the tall pine trees lining the cliff edge.

"Why do you want to know?" you ask, keeping your voice as flat and neutral as possible.

"Because I’m your friend, and I want to know," Steve says curtly.

His tone is sharp, almost defensive. Hearing the word friend come out of his mouth in that tone makes a bitter, ironic laugh burst from your chest. 

You shake your head, incredulous.

"He’s my ex-boyfriend," you say, leaving it at that. You don’t offer any details.

Steve stays silent for a few agonizing seconds.

"Is he the one who left?" Steve asks suddenly.

You turn back toward him, your eyebrows pulling together in a sharp frown. 

"If you already know who he is, then why are you even asking me?"

Steve rolls his eyes, adjusting his posture in the driver’s seat. 

"I don’t know who he is," he mutters, his fingers tapping against the steering wheel. "Robin just mentioned a few things to me. It’s not like I know his life story or anything."

You let out a heavy sigh, sinking lower into your seat. You wrap your arms tightly across your chest and turn your face back toward the dark window, watching the moonlight flicker across the glass. 

"Yeah," you say softly. "It’s him."

"And now he’s back."

"No," you correct him instantly, your tone rising in frustration. "He’s not back. He was just passing through town for a couple of days."

Steve clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, letting out a short, dry sound. 

"Right."

Your frown deepens. You turn around completely in your seat, fixing your eyes on his profile.

"What?"

"Nothing," he says quickly, staring straight ahead out the windshield.

"No, come on, Steve," you push, your voice challenging him. "You clearly want to say something. Just say it."

Steve shifts uncomfortably, resting his elbow on the car door and leaning his chin against his palm. 

"I’m just saying... he seemed pretty damn close to you at the party the other night."

You freeze for a fraction of a second as the realization hits you.

"Ah," you say, a cold smile touching your lips. "So you saw us."

"I just saw you talking to someone, alright?" Steve snaps back, his voice rising a fraction as he finally turns his head to glance at you. "I didn’t assume anything. It’s not like I was gonna sit there and get all worried about who you were talking to, or whether some guy was your ex or not."

"No, of course not," you reply, your tone dripping with sharp sarcasm as you turn your gaze back to the front windshield. "Because that night, you had far more important plans, didn’t you?"

The silence that follows your words is suffocating. It fills every corner of the car, heavy and thick with everything you aren’t saying out loud. You are explicitly hinting at what you saw later that very night.

Steve’s jaw flexes. He pulls the small lollipop out of his mouth, his face completely shadowed by the dim cabin light.

"Were you in love with him?" he asks.

His voice is lower now, raspy and rough around the edges, cutting straight through the heavy silence.

You stiffen. 

"Steve," you warn softly, looking at him.

"What?" he asks, his dark eyes meeting yours in the faint light. "Can’t I ask?"

You let out a heavy sigh, letting your head fall back against the leather headrest. You close your eyes for a brief moment, taking a deep, grounding breath, tryinh to settle the sudden storm inside your chest before opening your eyes again and looking out into the dark night.

The quiet inside the car stretches out for several long seconds. You trace the faint outline of your reflection in the glass, searching for the right words to describe a past that feels so distant now.

"I don’t know..." you finally answer, your voice barely above a whisper. "I think so... I don’t know."

Steve takes the lollipop out of his mouth completely, resting his wrist on the top of the steering wheel. 

"What do you mean, 'I don’t know'?"

"I don’t know, Steve! I really don’t know!" You throw your hands up in frustration, turning to face him. "I... I liked him. I was completely obsessed with him. I honestly believed he was the love of my life, that he was everything to me. Until I finally realized that the whole thing was just..."

"A lie," Steve finishes for you, his voice flat.

You sigh heavily, your shoulders slumping. 

"I don’t know if I’d call it a lie. It was all just my own illusions, okay? I made up a version of him in my head that didn’t exist."

"But he did lie to you," Steve insists, his brow furrowed as he stares at you.

You roll your eyes, tossing your head back. 

"If Robin already told you the entire story, why are we even having this conversation right now?"

"I told you," Steve says, his tone softening slightly. "Robin only told me the quick, surface-level version."

You bite the inside of your cheek, feeling a familiar sting of old humiliation. You look down at your lap, picking at a loose thread on your clothes.

"He cheated on me a couple of times," you admit quietly. "That’s all. But..." You raise a hand in a dismissive gesture. "It’s not like our relationship was even serious enough to truly call it cheating anyway. I don’t know."

Steve stays quiet, watching you carefully. The tension between you shifts, turning into something softer, heavier, and far more intimate.

"The other day..." Steve begins, his voice dropping an octave. You inevitably look up at him, caught by the tone of his voice. "When you jumped into Lover’s Lake," Steve continues, his eyes locking onto yours. "When you were talking about finding real love and all that stuff... were you thinking about him?"

Your brows pull together in genuine confusion. 

"What?"

"Were you thinking about him?" he repeats, searching your face for any sign of hesitation.

"No," you say firmly, shaking your head. "No, Steve. I wasn’t thinking about him. Honestly, I hadn’t thought about him in months until he randomly showed up in town. And these past few days, he hasn’t crossed my mind even once... until you just brought his name up."

Steve holds your gaze for a second longer before looking away, turning his head toward his side window. He pops the lollipop back into his mouth, shifts it to the other side, and then pulls it right back out, letting out a small, breathless sigh.

He turns back to you. 

"Robin is completely convinced that those hickeys on your neck came from him," he says casually. "She basically convinced the rest of the group, too."

You let out a groan of pure frustration, burying your face in your hands for a second. 

"Well, yeah! I had to tell her that!"

Your eyes shoot back up to meet Steve’s in the dim moonlight. The air in the car instantly freezes.

Slowly, without a word, Steve reaches his hand across the space between the seats. His warm fingers slide under the collar of your jacket, brushing gently against the sensitive skin of your neck. His thumb traces the faint, fading marks hidden beneath your clothes.

A sharp shiver runs down your spine at his touch. Your breath hitches in your throat, your skin burning everywhere his fingers make contact.

Steve holds his hand there for a fleeting second, his thumb caressing your skin with a devastating tenderness. Then, as if suddenly remembering himself, he pulls his hand back abruptly. He clears his throat, turning his face away to stare out his window again, his jaw working as he tries to regain control.

You sit there, your pulse racing against your ribs, the ghost of his touch still lingering on your skin like a physical burn. You pull your jacket collar up slightly, trying to steady your irregular breathing.

"What about you?" you ask softly, turning the question back on him. "Have you ever been in love?"

"What?" Steve asks, refusing to meet your eyes. He busies himself with adjusting the air vent on the dashboard.

You tilt your head, leaning slightly closer to catch his gaze. 

"Steve..."

Hearing the gentle, accusatory tone in your voice, a small, involuntary smile touches the corner of Steve’s lips. He lets out a quiet sigh, throwing his head back against the headrest.

"Once..." he murmurs to the ceiling of the car.

Your heart does a strange, violent flip in your chest. You didn’t expect the answer to sting quite like this. A sudden, uncomfortable pang of jealousy twists in your stomach at the thought of him hopelessly lost in someone else, giving another girl that intense, undivided attention that currently consumes you.

"Who?" you ask quietly.

"Nancy."

Hearing her name come off his lips makes a small, unexpected laugh bubble up in your chest. You know, of course, that they used to date back in high school. Everyone knows. But hearing it now feels so distant, so utterly bizarre and unreal, that you can barely process it. Your Steve and your Nancy feel like they belong to two completely different universes.

"Right," you say, shaking your head with a faint smile.

Steve turns his head, catching the smirk on your face. A genuine smile breaks across his face, his dark eyes crinkling at the corners.

"What?" he asks.

"Nothing."

"You’re laughing at me," Steve accuses softly. He takes the lollipop out of his mouth and brings it close to your lips, playfully poking your cheek with it just to annoy you.

You laugh, ducking your head and waving his hand away from your face. You rotate your entire body in the passenger seat, turning to face him fully. 

"I’m not laughing! It’s just..." You shrug your shoulders, searching for the right words. "I don’t know. It just sounds weird."

"Yeah, well," Steve says, his smile fading into a softer expression as he looks back up at the car ceiling. "It was real. Very real."

Your frown returns, a small shadow crossing your features. 

"Still...?"

"What? No!" Steve shoots up, turning to face you with wide eyes, denying it so fast and aggressively that it borders on ridiculous. "No, God, no!"

A loud, genuine laugh escapes your lips at his dramatic reaction. 

"I was just making sure."

Steve smiles again, his eyes softening as he watches you laugh.

"What about Gabriela?" The name slips out of your mouth before you can stop yourself.

Steve clicks his tongue, shaking his head immediately. 

"You already know I’m not..."

"I don’t know anything, Steve."

"Yes, you do..." Steve says, his voice dropping into a lower, darker register that sends a tremor straight down your spine.

You look down at your hands, your fingers nervously playing with the stitched seam of your denim jeans. 

"Well, sometimes it really doesn’t seem like you aren’t in love with her."

Steve looks at you for a long moment. Then, softly, almost under his breath, he asks:

"Would I lie to you?"

Your eyes snap up to meet his in the pale moonlight.

"Do you really want me to answer that question?" you ask, your tone a mix of vulnerability and deep suspicion.

Steve’s eyebrows pull together, a look of genuine hurt flashing across his features. 

"I never lied to you..."

"Steve..."

"I never lied to you," he repeats, his voice firm, shaking his head slowly. "Never."

"Right..." You let out a quiet, sarcastic laugh, shaking your head and turning your gaze back toward the side window.

Before you can look away completely, Steve moves.

He shifts his entire body toward you, leaning across the center console. His hand reaches out, his warm, strong fingers wrapping gently around your jawline, stopping you in your tracks. His touch is firm yet remarkably gentle, forcing you to turn back and look directly into his eyes.

"No, no," he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. "Look at me."

His arm slides behind your headrest, his body crowding yours in the tight space of the front seat. His thumb rests against your cheekbone, stroking the soft skin of your jaw with agonizing slowness.

"I never lied to you," he says again, his dark eyes dropping down to your lips for a fraction of a second before snapping back to meet your gaze.

You hold your breath, trapped by his proximity, by the warmth radiating from his body, by the raw intensity in his eyes.

"Okay," Steve continues, his voice barely louder than a whisper against your skin. "It’s true that I can’t tell you everything. It’s true that there are things happening... things where I haven’t been one hundred percent honest with you. But I have never lied to you. Never."

Your heart hammers frantically against your ribs. Your eyes lower to his lips, watching them move, watching the subtle rise and fall of his chest.

"And what if I ask you right now?" you whisper, your voice trembling slightly. "What if I ask you everything I want to ask?"

Steve leans in just a fraction closer, his face inches from yours.

"Try me," he whispers softly against your lips.

You swallow hard, gathering every ounce of courage left in your body. You look directly into his dark, beautiful eyes.

"Why did you show up beat up that night—?"

Before you can even finish the sentence, Steve leans forward and presses his lips against yours.

The kiss is soft, brief, and completely takes the air right out of your lungs.

When he pulls back just an inch, his breath warm against your mouth, you blink in confusion, your mind racing to catch up.

"Steve..." you whisper, your voice trembling.

"What?" he whispers back, his hand sliding slowly behind your neck, his fingers tangling into the hairs at the base of your head.

"That’s not fair," you mutter, trying to hold onto your anger, trying to maintain the wall you built between you.

Steve lets out a small, quiet breath that feels like a defeated laugh. 

"You’re right," he murmurs against your cheek. "I’m sorry." He clears his throat softly, pulling back just enough to look at you. "Go ahead. Continue."

You stare at him, your hands gripping the edges of your seat. 

"Why did you show up that night covered in—"

Steve cuts you off again.

This time, his mouth meets yours with an intensity that completely shatters your defenses. His hand pulls gently at your hair, tilting your head back at the perfect angle to deepen the kiss. His other hand comes up to rest against the side of your face, his thumb tracing your cheek as he pulls you closer against him, erasing every last bit of distance between the two of you.

And you give in.

Every rational thought in your brain tells you to push him away, to demand the answers you deserve, to demand the truth about the violence, the secrets, and the dangerous world he’s hiding from you. But your body completely betrays you.

You let yourself fall.

Your hands leave the seat and slide up his chest, wrapping around his neck, pulling him down into you. What you feel for him is so much stronger, so much more overwhelming than the anger burning in your chest. It’s stronger than the frustration of not being able to know him completely, stronger than the fear of not knowing which parts of him are real and which parts are built on secrets. Stronger than every warning signal there’s is around him.

You surrender completely to the feeling of his lips moving against yours, to the heat of his breath, to the familiar, comforting scent that completely surrounds him.

Because you know some truth. 

You know that moments like this are rare and fragile. You don’t know when you’ll ever get to be like this with him again. You don’t know when he’ll put his walls back up, or when the shadows of his life will pull him away from you once more.

So you let yourself get completely lost in his arms, forgetting the questions, forgetting the secrets, and letting the dark world outside the car disappear entirely.

But then he pulls back.

The loss of his warmth hits you instantly. The cold night air fills the small space between the two seats, snapping you back to reality. 

Steve slides back into the driver’s seat, resting his head back against his headrest. He stares up at the car ceiling for a moment, running both hands over his face to catch his breath.

When he looks over at you again, a soft, faint smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth — the familiar, charming look you know so well, though his eyes remain guarded.

"We should probably get going," Steve says softly, his voice still rough and raspy from the kiss. "Before Robin realizes you’re still not home yet."

Before you can answer, he gently presses the sweet candy against your lips.

You open your mouth slightly, taking the lollipop from him. The taste of sweet cherry settles on your tongue, completely replacing the lingering taste of his lips. Steve watches you for a second, his dark eyes lingering on your face with a tenderness he can no longer pretend isn’t there.

"Keep it," he whispers softly, a tiny, genuine smile touching his lips.

He pulls his hand back, gripping the key in the ignition. With a quick turn of his wrist, the car’s engine roars back to life, breaking the stillness of the mountain peak. The yellow headlights cut through the pitch-black night once more, illuminating the tall pine trees ahead.

Steve shifts the car out of park, turns the steering wheel sharply, and pulls the car away from the edge of the cliff.

As the car begins its slow descent down the rough dirt trail, back toward the sleeping, dark town of Hawkins, you lean your head back against the cold passenger window. You hold the stick of the lollipop tightly between your fingers, feeling the warmth of his kiss still humming across your skin.

—

Steve slows down near the edge of town, where the streetlights grow sparse again.

"You want anything?" Steve asks, breaking the silence. His voice is smooth, nothing like the sharp edge it held an hour ago.

You look out the window and notice the bright, flickering neon sign of the local gas station standing like an isolated island of light in the dark town.

"I need to make a quick stop before I drop you off at Robin’s." He adds, turning his head slightly toward you. "You sure you don’t want anything?"

You smile, shaking your head gently as you adjust the lollipop in your mouth. 

"No, I’m good."

Steve pulls the car into the empty concrete lot, stopping right under the harsh glare of the overhead lights. He shifts the car into park and gives you a small, genuine smile — a real one that reaches his eyes and makes your heart flutter.

"Be right back," he says softly.

You watch him get out of the car, stepping into the cool night air. He pulls his jacket tighter around his shoulders and walks through the double glass doors of the small convenience store, the little bell above the door ringing faintly across the quiet lot.

You let out a long, peaceful sigh, leaning your head back against the seat. You glance at your wrist, checking the faint glow of your watch. It’s almost midnight.

You feel a sudden wave of relief wash over you. Thank God Robin decided to stay over at Vickie’s house tonight, cause if she saw you pulling up at midnight in Steve’s car, it would be the last straw.

You laugh quietly to yourself at the thought, taking the lollipop out of your mouth for a second and looking at the glowing neon sign of the station. Everything feels quiet. Somehow, everything feels, for the first time in a very long time, completely okay.

But the peace doesn’t last. It never does.

A low, deep rumble cuts through the quiet of the night. It’s a heavy, powerful engine sound that doesn’t belong in a small, quiet town like Hawkins.

You turn your head toward the left side of the parking lot.

A dark, sleek luxury sedan pulls into the lot, gliding smoothly over the pavement like a ghost. It’s expensive, brand new, and polished so brightly that the flickering fluorescent lights of the gas station reflect off its dark paint like liquid metal. The windows are heavily tinted, completely hiding the interior from view.

It slowly comes to a stop right in the space directly next to Steve’s car.

An unexpected, sudden coldness creeps up your spine. You pull your jacket tighter around yourself, frowning as you stare at the dark vehicle. You can’t explain why, but every single instinct inside your body is screaming at you to look away, to hide, to get out of there.

Through the dark tint of the driver’s side window, you can barely make out the sharp silhouette of a man sitting behind the wheel. He doesn’t get out. He doesn’t turn off the engine. He just sits there in the car, motionless, staring straight ahead.

Your heart begins to beat a little faster against your ribs. You quickly turn your head back toward the glass front of the store, desperate for Steve to come back out.

Through the glass, you see him. Steve is standing at the checkout counter, holding a small brown paper bag. He pays the cashier, turns around, and pushes open the front door.

As he steps out onto the pavement, his posture is completely loose and relaxed. He looks up, his dark eyes instantly finding yours through the windshield, and that soft, affectionate smile returns to his face.

Then, his gaze shifts just a fraction to the left.

The second Steve’s eyes land on the dark luxury car parked next to his, his entire body freezes.

You watch the transformation happen in real time, and it terrifies you. 

The soft, gentle expression on his face vanishes instantly, erased as if it had never existed at all. His warm eyes harden into ice. His relaxed shoulders instantly square up, turning rigid and tense, and his jaw sets so tightly that you can see the muscle flexing from several feet away.

You frown, looking back and forth between the luxury car and Steve, your chest tightening with sudden confusion and dread.

Steve’s eyes snap back to yours for a split second through the glass windshield. The look in his eyes isn’t the soft, gentle gaze from the ridge, nor is it the playful smirk from a moment ago. It’s a look of absolute, icy distance. A warning.

He drops his chin, looking down at the ground, and changes his path. Instead of walking around to the driver’s side of his own car, he walks directly toward the dark sedan.

He stops right beside the driver’s window of the black car. Because of the angle and the dim light, you can no longer see Steve’s face clearly. 

You sit completely frozen in the passenger seat, your breath caught in your throat.

You can’t hear a single word being said. The heavy glass of the car and the hum of the engine drown out their voices entirely. But you don’t need to hear the words to understand what is happening. The body language speaks louder than any words ever could.

It’s a conversation wrapped in pure, suffocating tension. You see Steve’s head tilt slightly, his shoulders drawn up as if he’s bracing for a physical hit. The silhouette inside the black car doesn’t move much, but you can see the slight, sharp hand gestures of a man who is used to giving orders and expecting them to be followed without question.

Steve nods once, a stiff, forced movement of his head. He says something short, his jaw barely moving, before stepping back from the window.

The dark window of the luxury car rolls back up instantly, completely sealing the man inside.

Steve turns on his heel and marches back to his car.

His strides are long, hard, and furious. The gentle boy who had kissed you gently on the mountain top just minutes ago has completely vanished, replaced by a stranger radiating pure, dangerous anger.

He yanks the driver’s side door open and climbs inside. He slams the door shut behind him with such violent force that the entire car shakes, the heavy thud rattling the glass windows and making you jump in your seat.

Without saying a word, Steve blindly reaches back and tosses the paper bag from the gas station into the back seat, where it lands with a soft rustle against the leather upholstery.

"Steve...?" you ask softly, your voice trembling as you shrink back slightly against your door.

Steve doesn’t answer you. He doesn’t even look at you.

His hands grab the steering wheel with terrifying strength, his knuckles turning completely white. He forcefully slams the gear shift, stomps his foot down on the gas pedal, and turns the wheel sharply.

The tires screech violently against the smooth concrete of the gas station lot, leaving a sharp smell of burnt rubber hanging in the late-night air. The car shoots out onto the main road, accelerating much faster than necessary down the empty, dark streets of Hawkins.

You grab onto the door handle with one hand, your heart hammering wildly against your ribs. The dark luxury sedan remains parked under the gas station lights, shrinking away in the side mirror until it disappears into the night completely.

The silence inside the car is unbearable now, far worse than the silence at the beginning of the night. It feels heavy, cold, and suffocating, pressing down on your chest like a physical weight. Steve’s jaw is clenched so hard you worry his teeth might shatter, and his eyes are wide and fixed on the dark road ahead, completely unblinking. He bites his lower lip hard, his breath coming in short, harsh bursts through his nose.

You take a slow, careful breath, trying to steady your voice before you speak again. You keep your tone low, gentle, and cautious, as if you are trying not to startle a wounded, dangerous animal.

"Steve... who was that?"

Steve lets out a long, ragged exhale. He bites the inside of his lip again, a gesture of pure, overwhelming frustration. His grip on the leather wheel tightens even further until his hands are visibly shaking.

"My father," he says curtly.

The words drop like heavy stones into the quiet cabin.

You feel your heart sink straight into the pit of your stomach. A strange, sickening coldness spreads through your chest, and you suddenly lose the ability to speak.

You don’t need him to explain anything else. You know what those two words mean.

You turn your head to look at Steve’s profile, but his face is an unreadable mask of cold stone. 

The rest of the drive takes less than five minutes, but it feels like an eternity.

Steve drives too fast through the quiet residential neighborhoods, taking turns sharply, his entire body vibrating with a dark, furious energy. You don’t dare speak another word. You just sit there, clutching your seat, watching the dark houses blur past your window.

Finally, the car pulls up to the curb in front of Robin’s house.

The house is completely dark. The front porch light is turned off, and the windows on the second floor are pitch black. Robin’s parents are clearly fast asleep.

Steve stops but he leaves the engine running. The steady, low hum of the exhaust fills the dark street.

Neither of you moves. For a long, painful minute, absolute silence hangs between you.

Slowly, reluctantly, you turn your body in the seat to look at him.

The expression on Steve’s face is something you have truly never seen before. It’s darker and colder than his usual anger. The only time he has ever looked remotely like this was that night in the dark alleyway.

"Are you...?" you start to ask, your voice barely above a whisper, trying to reach out to him, trying to ask if he is okay.

"He invited you guys over for dinner tomorrow night," Steve interrupts sharply before you can even finish your sentence.

His voice is completely flat, devoid of any warmth or emotion. His eyes remain glued to the steering wheel in front of him, refusing to look at you.

You blink, stunned by the sudden statement. 

"Oh. Okay... Yeah..." you say, feeling completely dazed and overwhelmed by the rapid shifts in the night.

Steve finally turns his head to look at you. His eyes are cold, dark, and completely distant, looking right through you as if you were a stranger standing on a street corner.

"Pretend you’re sick," he says bluntly.

You frown, genuine confusion washing over you. 

"What?"

"You heard me," Steve says, his tone rising. "Just do it."

Before you can process what he’s saying, before you can ask why he wants you to lie, or why he’s suddenly pushing you away with such harsh aggression right after everything that happened between you, Steve reaches out to the dashboard.

With a swift, hard flick of his wrist, he cranks the volume knob on the radio all the way up.

The speakers instantly explode with loud, jarring music, filling the dark cabin with a wall of sound that completely drowns out any possibility of conversation. It’s a clear, brutal message. An absolute cue for you to get out of his car.

You sit there for a second, staring at him in complete disbelief. Your chest aches with a sharp, heavy pain, anger and hurt warring inside your mind.

You let out a long, bitter sigh. You don’t try to argue. You don’t try to fight through the loud music. You don’t even say goodbye.

You grab the door handle, push the door open, and step out into the freezing night air.

You shut the heavy car door behind you with a firm click. But Steve doesn’t even wait for you to reach the front porch. He doesn’t wait to make sure you get inside safely. He doesn’t wait to see you pull the key out from under the flowerpot.

The very second the car door closes, Steve slams his foot onto the gas pedal.

The BMW roars violently, its tires kicking up loose gravel from the side of the road as it speeds away down the dark, empty street. You turn around just in time to watch the red lights shrink into the distance, disappearing around the corner, leaving behind nothing but the cold wind and absolute silence.

You stand alone on the dark wooden porch, the spare key cold against the palm of your hand, staring at the empty street where his car had been just seconds ago. The cherry flavor of the lollipop suddenly tastes bitter on your tongue.

You squeeze your eyes shut, taking a shaky breath of the cold night air as a single question echoes through your mind:

What the hell just happened?

—

“Good morning! Did you sleep well?”

Robin’s mother turns around from the stove, a wooden spatula in one hand and a warm, bright smile on her face. 

You force your lips into a smile, nodding as naturally as you could. 

“Good morning. Yes, I slept great.”

It was a lie bigger than the house itself, but you deliver it smoothly.

“I’m so glad to hear that, sweetie,” she says softly, turning back to flip a slice of bread in the frying pan. “Robin called a little bit ago. She said she’d be back in about an hour. Do you two have any big plans for today?”

You pull out one of the wooden chairs at the table. The legs scraped softly against the floor as you sat down.

“Uhm, no, not really,” you say, resting your hands on the cool table surface. “I think we’re just going to stay here and rest for the afternoon.”

“That sounds wonderful. You kids have been running around nonstop since you got here.” She brought a heavy ceramic mug filled with steaming black coffee over to the table and set it down right in front of you, along with a small glass jar of milk. “Here you go. Get some coffee in you.”

“Thank you,” you say, taking the mug into your hands. The heat seeped into your cold fingers, bringing a bit of comfort.

It’s funny, really. You have been staying under this roof for less than a week, yet somehow, you already feel like a regular part of the family. The Buckleys have taken you in without hesitation, giving you a warm bed, a seat at their table, and endless kindness.

For the next ten minutes, breakfast moves along in a quiet, predictable rhythm. Mrs. Buckley asks you small, gentle questions while she finishes breakfast. She asks about your classes, your major, your goals for next year, your parents back home, and what it was like growing up in your hometown.

None of her questions are hard. Simple, polite conversations that you have answered a hundred times before. You answer her smoothly, keeping your tone light, giving her just enough detail to be polite without having to dig into anything too real or deep. 

But underneath your calm responses, your mind keeps drifting back to Steve.

The back screen door opens and closes with a dull thud, announcing the entrance of Robin’s father. He walks into the kitchen and gives you a quick, friendly nod before pulling out the chair across from yours.

He sits down, unfolds the local newspaper, and spreads it out on the table. A fresh mug of black coffee is set down next to his hand by his wife.

For a few moments, the only sound in the kitchen is the faint rustle of newsprint, the soft hum of the refrigerator, and the distant chirping of birds outside the window.

Then, Mr. Buckley makes a sharp noise in the back of his throat. He lets out a dark, frustrated sigh and tosses the paper down onto the wood, pointing a thick finger at an article on the front page.

“This son of a bitch is going to put the entire town in debt,” he mutters angrily, picking up his coffee mug and taking a sip.

Mrs. Buckley stops wiping down the counter, turning her head instantly to give him a stern look. 

“Honey... language, please. We have a guest at the table.”

Mr. Buckley shakes his head, not looking embarrassed at all. 

“Sorry, sorry. It’s just... it makes my blood boil. People keep going to him, asking for money for every little thing, and he just keeps taking advantage of them. We’re never going to get anywhere like this.”

You lower your coffee cup, feeling a sudden change in the air. You look up, confused by the sudden outburst.

Mrs. Buckley catches your expression and gives you a gentle, apologetic smile. 

“He’s talking about Steve’s father,” she explains softly, wanting to make sure you aren’t left out of the loop.

At the sound of that name, your stomach pulls itself into a tight knot.

Your mind instantly flashes back to your very first night in this house. You remember how Robin’s father casually brought up a new store opening downtown that Steve’s father helped fund. You remember how Steve stiffened up instantly, his shoulders going tense, his jaw clenching tightly while he quickly changed the subject. 

“Is his dad a loan shark?” you ask, keeping your voice low and casual as you take another slow sip of your coffee, trying to hide the slight tremor in your fingers.

Mr. Buckley lets out a short, bitter laugh.

“Yeah, that’s a real polite way of putting it,” he says, leaning back in his chair and resting his arms on the table. “Or better yet, he lends money to people who are desperate, and then he comes back and threatens them until he gets every single cent back... with ridiculous interest tacked on top.”

Mrs. Buckley places a basket of fresh toast on the table, shaking her head gently at her husband. 

“Honey, don’t say things like that. You know those are mostly just town rumors.” She pours a little more hot coffee into his mug.

“Town rumors my foot!” Mr. Buckley snaps back, though his voice stays relatively quiet. “It might have been just simple loans years ago. But now? No way.” He shakes his head slowly, his face full of cold disapproval. “There are enough folks around here who have gotten mixed up in his mess to prove that his business is as dark and shady as it gets.”

He takes another sip of his coffee, resting his hand back on the table. He looks right at you, his eyes serious.

“And Steve is right in the middle of it, I’m telling you.”

Mrs. Buckley frowns, her voice rising slightly. 

“Honey... stop it. He’s a friend of the girls.”

The kitchen seems to grow completely quiet around you. The sound of the morning wind, the ticking clock on the wall, the smell of burnt toast — everything fades into the background.

Piece by piece, like a messy puzzle finally coming together, your memories begin to click into place.

Flashes of the past few weeks rush through your head, sharp and terrifyingly clear.

You had forced yourself to look away all this time. You had convinced yourself that you were misinterpreting things, that he was too good of a person to ever do something cruel.

But sitting here now, in the Buckley kitchen, the cold truth hit you like a wave of freezing water.

No. Please, no.

You don’t want to believe it. You desperately want to defend him, to say something that would clear his name, but the words get stuck in your throat. Your heart starts beating furiously against your ribs, sending a panic through your chest. Your mouth goes dry as dust.

You squeeze your coffee mug tighter, forcing your voice to sound quiet, soft, and completely unbothered.

“Why do you say Steve is involved?” you ask.

Mr. Buckley gives another soft, sad shake of his head.

“Because he’s been working for his old man ever since he finished high school,” he says simply. “Everybody in town knows it. It’s the family business. And look, I get it, he’s a friend of yours, and deep down, he’s not a bad kid. He’s got a good heart somewhere in there. But you also have to accept facts. The way he left Hawkins... it wasn’t just a regular move. It was practically an escape. A getaway.” He pauses, taking a breath before adding: “Especially after everything that went down with Eddie.”

There it is again. That name.

Eddie.

You remember hearing it at that party, when your classmate asked Robin about him.

You remember how Robin’s face had completely changed in an instant. 

Now, hearing the name come out of Mr. Buckley’s mouth, the curiosity and dread inside you become unbearable.

You lean forward slightly, resting your elbows on the table. You look straight at Robin’s father, your voice barely louder than a whisper.

“Who is Eddie?” you ask, asking the question for the second time in less than a week.

Mr. Buckley shifts in his seat, opening his mouth to answer, when a voice interrupts him.

“Hey.” Robin’s sharp voice filled the entire house before you can even comprehend she’s there. You didn’t even listen to the front door, but the look on her face tells you everything you need to know: she heard, and clearly there’s something she doesn’t want you to know. “Let’s go rent some movies, shall we?”

—

The afternoon dragged on slower than ever. The hands on the wall clock seemed to move in slow motion, ticking with a dull, heavy sound that made your head ache.

In fact, you would have actually preferred going with Jonathan to help him with his photography project.

Robin threw a striped shirt onto the floor with an annoyed huff. She picked up a denim jacket, looked at it for two seconds, and tossed it onto the growing pile of clothes on her desk.

You sat with your knees pulled up toward your chest, watching her back. You took a slow breath, trying to steady your nervous stomach, and decided to try one more time to get out of this.

"Seriously, Robin... I think I have a fever," you said, putting a hand against your forehead to make it look convincing. "My head is pounding, and I feel really warm. Maybe it’s better if I just stay tonight."

Robin froze instantly. She didn’t turn around right away. Her hands stayed resting on a blue button-down shirt still hanging in the closet. The sudden silence in the room felt sharper than any noise she could have made.

When she finally turned around, her face was totally devoid of her usual easygoing, playful expression. Her jaw was set, her eyes narrow and cold.

"Enough..." Robin said your name in a sharp, cutting tone.

She had been like this all day, honestly. Short-tempered, restless, and completely unwilling to let you out of her sight.

"You’re coming," Robin added, pointing a finger directly at you. Her voice left zero room for argument. "End of discussion."

You didn’t fight back. You just let out a heavy, tired sigh, falling backward onto the mattress. You lay there flat on your back, staring up at the textured white ceiling, listening to the sound of Robin angrily folding a pair of jeans.

Steve’s words immediately rushed back into your head, loud and clear.

“Pretend you’re sick."

Why? Why didn’t Steve want you at his house?

It made no sense. He had mentioned the gathering to everyone else in the group without a second thought. He had no problem with any of them coming over to his place, walking through his front door, sitting in his living room. Why were you the only exception? Was he ashamed of you? Was he still trying to keep you away from some part of his life that he didn’t want you to see?

And then there was Robin.

Why was Robin insisting so much that you go tonight? Robin was usually your buffer. She was the one who knew every single detail about Steve’s complicated life, and she was always the very first person to hide things from you whenever it involved him. If Steve was being an idiot, Robin usually shielded you from it. If Steve was keeping secrets, Robin was a vault.

So why was she acting like this today? Why was she practically dragging you by the hand to the one place Steve explicitly asked you not to go? Did she know what Steve had said to you? Or was she trying to force something into the open?

That doubt became a tiny, sharp insect that spent the rest of the afternoon slowly eating away at your mind. It followed you while Robin finally picked out her outfit. It followed you as you walked out to the car in silence. 

And it stays right beside you now as Nancy drives through the quiet, tree-lined streets of Hawkins, heading toward the wealthier side of town.

Before you know it, the car pulls up to the curb and stops shaking you away from all your thoughts.

You look out the passenger window, your stomach dropping into a cold, heavy knot. You’re standing in front of the Harrington house.

The house is massive, tall, and pristine, sitting behind a wide, manicured green lawn. The evening light is starting to fade, casting long, dark shadows across the driveway. It looks grand, impressive, and completely empty all at once.

You don’t know if this is exactly what you expected. To be honest, you don’t know if you expected anything in particular. You heard so much about this house over the past year. You heard stories about the huge parties King Steve used to throw here when his parents were out of town. You heard anecdotes about high school nights, swimming pool clear-outs, and late-night talks on the patio.

But up until now, all of those were just stories. Words in the air. Memories that belonged to other people.

"Let’s go," Robin says quietly. She doesn’t look at you as she opens her door and steps out into the cool evening air.

You take a slow, deep breath, forcing your feet to move. You get out of the car and follow everyone up the wide brick path toward the front porch. Each step feels heavy, as if your shoes were made of lead.

As Robin steps onto the porch and reaches out her hand toward the doorbell, a wave of cold panic washes over you.

You find yourself wondering if it is too late to turn back. You can literally just turn around, run down the driveway, and start walking down the street.

Because at this point, it isn’t even about Steve anymore. It isn’t just about the fact that he indirectly told you he doesn’t want you here.

It’s about you. It’s about your own fear.

You are terrified of facing reality. You are terrified of taking the Steve that lives in your mind — the Steve built on quiet jokes, gentle glances, and shared looks when no one else is paying attention — and placing him inside this reality.

In your head, Steve is vulnerable. He’s someone who cares, someone who is trying to figure out who he is away from the high school crown he used to wear. But what if that’s all a lie you built for yourself? What if coming here proves that the real Steve is just the rich, popular guy who lives in this big, lonely house? What if seeing this side of him destroys the image you held onto for so long?

You are scared. You are so deeply scared that seeing this part of his life can make you realize that you don’t actually know him at all.

Your train of thought cuts off instantly when a loud, sharp chiming sound echoes through the porch.

Robin pressed the doorbell.

You freeze in place, your pulse racing in your ears.

Robin stands beside you, her shoulders tense, her eyes fixed firmly on the heavy wooden front door. She doesn’t say a word. She doesn’t even look at you to check if you are okay. The silence between the group is thick, charged with an unsaid argument that has been building up all day long.

Inside the house, you hear the faint sound of footsteps coming down the main hallway. Soft, rhythmic thuds against hard flooring.

You hold your breath, every muscle in your body locking up.

The brass door handle clicks and turns.

The front door slowly pulls open inward.

Steve is standing on the other side.

He’s wearing a button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, his hair carefully styled. He has one hand resting easily on the edge of the open door frame, leaning against it with a relaxed, casual air.

"Hey guys, thanks for coming," Steve says smoothly.

He has a soft, easy smile on his face, his voice carrying that familiar, warm tone he always uses when he’s too careful. He’s looking straight at Robin, his posture casual and completely unworried.

But then, as he steps back to open the door wider, his eyes drift past Robin’s shoulder.

And his gaze met yours.

The change in his face is instant, shocking, and completely indescribable.

The soft, welcoming smile dies on his lips in a fraction of a second. His jaw goes slightly slack, his mouth staying parted as if the breath has just been knocked entirely out of his chest. The easy, relaxed posture he maintained vanishes, his shoulders instantly tensing up.

His eyes widen, flashing with a sudden, overwhelming storm of emotions—shock, deep panic, sharp guilt, and a strange, raw vulnerability that he usually works so hard to hide from the world.

You stand there, unable to speak, your heart hammering wildly against your ribs. The distance between the porch and the hallway suddenly felt like a massive chasm, filled with every unspoken word, every hidden truth, and every single doubt that had brought you to his door.

Steve takes a small, shaky breath, his fingers tightening against the wood of the door frame until his knuckles turned white. And then he turns around, walking through the hallway back inside.

Seriously, if he had screamed in your face, it would have been less painful.

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"Steve," you whined, looking up at him with sheer exasperation as you placed an antenna headband into Samantha's hair. She grappled with your hands, smacking yours away and tugging at the springs that made the felt balls on the end wobble around. "It's Halloween, can't you tell Jonathan to drive the van?"

Steve sighed and knelt beside Sammie so he could push the headband back while her attention was split. He clipped it down with barrettes and kissed her forehead.

"I really wish I could, but Jonathan and Nancy are working on maps, or something."

You huffed, annoyed, because that was a bullshit reason and everyone else would know that too. "Well, Lucas and Mike both have their drivers licenses," you pressed. "And Dustin should technically have his, but he keeps skipping his stupid drivers ed classes. They're all very capable teenagers."

Steve made a face as he looked up at you, brows drawn together. "Okay, one, Mike and Lucas are on lookout as usual. And two, what if I don't go, something goes wrong, and they're out there alone?" He pushes, an argument you'd heard a million times over, each time a crawl interfered with your plans.

Date night, dinner with your parents, holidays. All of it could so easily get foiled by Nancy Wheeler ringing the house to say the military was doing a burn.

What did the burns do? What did the crawls accomplish? Lately, it seemed like absolutely nothing except stealing Steve away when you needed him.

"What if it's totally fine, nothing happens, and it's another huge waste of time?" You argued, lifting Sam onto your hip so you could carry her into the living room. Steve trudged behind, following you downstairs and into the living room.

You'd had this argument before, and you both knew that it pissed you off to no end. Because you knew that Steve wanted to stay with you and Sam, and you knew that he could ask, but he wouldn't. You had told him before that he was surprisingly selfless, but this was just needless.

Steve stood behind you with his arms crossed, watching you pose Sammie in front of the Halloween decorations on the fireplace for pictures. In between making silly noises so she'd look at the camera, he would huff and watch you through narrowed eyes. "This sucks for me too, baby," he insisted, and when you didn't respond, his jaw ticked and he pressed on. "You're acting like I want to miss tonight. It's totally unfair. I helped you make her outfit, I helped make our matching costumes, and you actually think I'm bailing because I don't care, or something?"

He ran a hand through his hair as you picked up Sam, who was getting uncomfortably heavy in your arms as she neared her second birthday. With a tiny whine, she snuggled against your shoulder, clearly feeling the tension between the two of you.

"I'm not fighting you about this," you said finally, which was your best way of communicating that you were pissed, but didn't want to drag it out in front of Sam. "Go on the crawl, and when you all come up dry again, don't tell me that you wished that you had stayed with us."

Steve left at five, with a quick peck on Sam's cheek and your forehead. He tried to rub his thumb between your brows and smooth out the crinkles there, but you narrowed your eyes at him and pulled back. "Don't be cute," you warned, and then his expression fell and you felt your heart thawing out. "Just be safe tonight, okay? It's a holiday, so the MPs are probably out in droves."

He nodded and slipped out to the driveway. Already, kids were beginning to roam the streets, seeking out the bigger houses with hopes that they might have managed to get their hands on some candy.

Your parents' porch light was off, so you figured that they hadn't had any luck either. Whatever candy there was, if any at all, had been snatched up before you'd even caught wind of it hitting the shelves. The likelihood of Sam getting any candy was abysmal, and, frankly, even if she did get any, it wouldn't even be for her, it would be for you.

Claudia joined you for the neighborhood walk, but the number of dark houses was a total mood killer. Most kids were ambling around like the living dead, trying to find a house that still had stock of whatever treat they'd prepared. You would wait in line at those rare doors with Claudia, only to be told they were saving their treats for bigger kids this year who could actually eat it.

"Well, this is no fun," Claudia said as you looked into Sam's bucket at the end of your fourth street. She had accumulated two oatmeal raisin cookies (from Claudia), a pair of crayons tied with a ribbon, a bookmark, a bag of trail mix, and a popcorn ball. "If Halloween is this bad, I can't even imagine Thanksgiving in these conditions."

You grimaced, not even wanting to think about it. Last year had already been rough, but with restocks at the store getting worse and worse, you couldn't even be sure you'd be able to throw together a decent meal at all. How long did you have until Hawkins was on rations?

"Maybe it'll all be over by then," you said, giving a half-smile. You wished you believed what you were saying, but you were just kidding yourself. You figured the military was in the same grim situation as your friends— searching futilely for something that wasn't there.

You gave up on Halloween after walking down a block of dark houses. Sam was asleep in her stroller anyway. The felt spots that Steve had glued on her little red crewneck were peeling off, fluttering in the breeze.

By the time Steve got home, you were dozing on the couch, lit by the broadcast of The Birds on a local station. You stirred a bit when you felt the blanket being pulled up around your shoulders, squinting up at the blurry shape of your boyfriend.

"What time is it?" You murmured, blinking until the sight of him became clear.

"I didn't mean to wake you up," he said, then glanced down at his watch. "10:15. Not too late."

You sat up, pulling the blanket up around your shoulders. It was already so cold in Hawkins, and you were longing for the heat of summer that you'd spent months complaining about. "Trick or treating was a total bust," you admitted with a sigh. "How was the crawl?"

Steve sat down beside you on the couch, picking at a loose thread on the blanket. "Well… Vecna is definitely not in sector H2," he said with a sidelong glance at you. "But… Murray smuggled something in for us."

You sat up, eyes wide as he pulled out a plastic pumpkin bucket filled with candy. You exhaled slowly at the sight and swallowed. "Is that all he brought?"

Steve's brows furrowed and he nodded. "Uh, yeah," he said with a teasing grin. "This is a ton of candy, baby. Don't be ungrateful."

You brought a smile to your lips and took a Krackel from the bag. "I'm not ungrateful," you insisted, trying to play off your disappointment. "I just asked him for a bag of Doritos two weeks ago and I'm still waiting."

Steve shrugged and grabbed a Mr. Goodbar. "Yeah, well, you know how he is," he said. "He likes to make you wait so you forget what you asked for and he can play hero. Here, put your feet in my lap."

You obliged, leaning back against the throw pillows as Steve moved your socked feet into his lap and began to rub them carefully. You sighed, peering over at him as you melted into the cushions. You couldn't even stay mad at him for going on the crawl, because your own plans had proved equally futile. Besides, he was so eager to get back on your good side.

It made you feel a little worse about lying. Well, not lying, exactly. Withholding the truth… actually, withholding a few truths. But that was fine, really. No one is ever totally, completely honest in a relationship.

"How's that feel?" He asked, and you hummed softly as his thumbs pressed into the arch of your foot. They were kind of sore from walking all the way to Dustin's street, then all the way around that branch of the suburbs.

"Really good," you sighed, melting into the cushions. "Next year, you're taking Sam and I'm handing out candy." He laughed and shook his head, but didn't argue. You just hoped that everything would be wrapped up by then.

"Next year," Steve mused, the corner of his mouth twitching down for a moment as he stared at the screen. You wanted to pull at that thread— just unravel his brain before you so you could know everything that he was thinking. His breath caught like he might have wanted to say something, but he held back.

It didn't matter what either of you wanted— your reality was completely out of your hands. A freaky monster could burst through your wall and rip you to pieces at any time, and you couldn't even stop it. No amount of crawls seemed to be able to stop it, but the party was convinced that if they stopped pushing that rock up the hill, it'd roll back and crush them all.

"I'm really sorry I missed tonight," he said, and you shivered as his hands moved up your calves, thumbs gliding along the muscle. You sighed softly, visibly deflating. "I don't like when you're mad at me. Things have just felt off for the past few weeks."

"I'm not mad, baby," you murmured, guilt itching under your skin. "I'm just tired, and stir crazy, and I hate my job, and I'm really fucking jealous that you get to, like, fuck around at the station all day."

Steve made a face. "I told you that if you wanted, I could get a job." Which was technically true, but practically out of the question. The party would blow a fuse if Steve ditched his responsibilities at the Squawk, even though Jonathan was plenty capable of running sound effects.

And it was the way he worded it too. If you wanted, like he had to pin it all on you. Of course you wanted him to get a job, so there wasn't so much pressure on your back to schmooze for tips so you could buy food and clothes for Sam. And you were lucky. Steve still got an allowance, and you lived in a fancy house rent free.

You'd just been feeling so angry lately. At the circumstances, at your finances, at the constant stream of people pulling Steve away and away and away. And maybe that was putting a strain on the two of you, a coldness.

Steve stood behind you in the mirror, watching as you brushed your teeth and got ready for bed. You could feel his gaze as much as you could see it, like a shock of electricity every time your gaze met his in the glass.

"Steve," you said firmly, but with the toothbrush in your mouth it came out more like shteef.

When you leaned down to spit the foam out, he leaned over you, kissing between your shoulder blades. You sighed softly, eyes fluttering shut as he pressed his forehead to the top of your spine.

"My beautiful girl," he murmured. His hands came down on either side of you on the counter, caging you in beneath him. He was so warm where he pressed against you, a living furnace. "Let me make it up to you."

"Not tonight, baby," you said softly, turning to kiss the side of his face. "I'm exhausted."

And, to Steve's credit, he never pushed, never demanded. He kissed your shoulder tenderly, then kissed your temple as he stood. "I love you," he said, and you shivered as he combed his fingers through your hair. "I promise this'll all be over soon."

A sad smile twitched on your lips. You'd been wanting the quarantine to end for over a year, so why did the idea of things changing soon feel like a dagger in your gut? This was you and Steve in a fancy house that you knew you'd never have been able to afford on your own. You and Steve and your little peanut, who was only ever going to get bigger and bigger. It was the strange circumstances that made you feel like you were living your life in a snow globe— this little family disturbed by an invisible creature shaking things up.

You wanted things to change, you wanted them to stay the same. And, above all, you felt uncomfortably confused about how you felt about anything at all.

On Tuesday, you stared at the ceiling for a while before you had to finally get up and grab Sam. You watched the ceiling fan whirling lazily, always on even in the winter since Steve ran so hot. When he left, he had jostled the bed a bit and woken you up, and you hadn't managed to fall back asleep, which was a total bummer.

Your thoughts weren't very Vecna-safe lately, which you were trying to find ways to remedy. You'd grabbed some sort of grief-counseling, depression cure book from the secondhand store a month back, but there wasn't anything of use inside. Until you found one that covered losing your best friends in a tragic, inter-dimensional disaster, getting custody of their baby, and being trapped inside of your town while holding the secret of said inter-dimensional disaster, you'd be on your own.

It was just something about the distance. The night before their date, with all the crazy shit going on in town, you'd hunkered down in their living room and spent the night on their couch. You watched stupid slashers that Tommy had picked and ate some weird casserole that Carol had made.

You couldn't even remember what it was anymore, even though you'd made fun of her failed attempt at being Julia Child for that entire night. You couldn't remember the story Tommy was telling you about work, or why he'd been mad at his Dad that weekend.

The picture of Carol in your mind was getting fuzzy. Sometimes she was your Carol— the one who'd grinned at you in the doorway and told you not to wait up as she climbed into the passenger's seat. And sometimes she was different. She was Carol from Sophomore year, or summer camp. Blurred around the edges, overexposed like she was shot on bad film.

Steve had found you crying in the closet in March, flipping through your photo albums like memorizing her face again was an act of penance. He sat next to you on the floor and pointed to his favorite pictures, asking you about certain days until you were laughing more than you were crying.

He was good about that, but there were some things he just couldn't fix. Not for you, not for Dustin, not for anyone. Not yet, at least.

Sam stirred over the monitor— you could hear the creak of her standing up and leaning on the crib bars over the shitty speakers, and you were paranoid that she'd fall through one day and hurt herself. With a sigh, you stood and trudged upstairs.

She was waiting for you when you opened the door, her hair messy from sleep and sticking to her chubby face. The gloominess of the morning melted away as you took her into your arms and planted a kiss on her forehead.

"Can you say, good morning?" You encouraged as you carried her over to the changing table. "Good morning, mama." She babbled something close enough, which you took as a win.

Mornings were always good. You made breakfast and watched Sesame Street together. Even though it was a bit chilly outside, you both went for a walk and pet Ms. Phillips' golden retriever when it poked its head through the fence.

As the afternoon rolled around, you got her fed, changed, and loaded into the car so that you could drive her to the station and drop her off with Steve.

Work continued to be a sore spot. It was far from glamorous— a waitressing gig at a little diner just outside of the military containment zone. But it was free lunch, a meager wage, and tips. You'd gotten good at guilting people into leaving you a few bills on the tabletop.

Nancy and Robin were already standing outside of the station when you arrived— arms crossed, gaze fixed skyward. You unloaded Sam and joined them, trying to follow their gaze. "What's going on, why's the station dead?" You asked. Sam reached over for Nancy, tugging on her hair for attention until she finally relented and moved her into her arms.

"Something with the remote radio head," Robin said, shielding the sun with her hand as she looked up at the tower. Before you could ask, hey, what's a remote radio head, you craned your neck and saw Steve and Jonathan racing up the ladders to the top.

Jesus Christ. "I'm gonna be late for my shift, and Mr. Matthews already hates me," you groaned, crossing your arms as you watched Steve rush up the ladder.

The height alone made you feel queasy, and you had to turn away from the sight before you sympathetically puked. In the distance, a large truck kicked up dust on the road. You shielded your eyes and squinted, brows furrowing.

"He's back early," you noted with a quick glance back at Nancy.

A shadow crossed her face as her expression went steely. Her throat bobbed as she swallowed. "Yeah, he is."

While Nancy and Robin hurried over to greet Murray, you took Sam back into your arms and watched anxiously as Steve pressed a button, or something, then raced Jonathan back down. He smiled at the sight of you waiting and jogged over even though he was already out of breath.

"Murray's back," you said as he took Sam into his arms. He greeted you with a quick peck on the lips, and only then seemed to process what you said.

"That's really soon," he said with a small frown. With Sam on his hip, he hurried over, and you could do little more than follow along to where Murray was already handing out his presents.

Boppers for Steve, Telemetry tags for the next crawl, a cassette for Jonathan and— "Doritos for the lady." You accepted the bag, already opened and chip-clipped back together, with a tight lipped smile. "I hope you'll forgive me, they really tested my self control."

A frown turned at your lips at his crushing lack of subtlety. With an exaggerated wink in your direction, he moved onto Nancy, with smuggled in details of the military's premature venture into the Upside Down. Steve, if puzzled by the fact that Murray had seemingly eaten your gift, said nothing. The group's focus was now on a surprise military burn, which meant you had the chance to slip away unquestioned.

Hastily, you kissed Steve's cheek and nodded towards the car. "Steve, I've gotta go," you said, your grip death-tight on the bag of chips. "I can't be late again, and I'm already…" you glanced at your watch and swore colorfully. With an exasperated sigh, Steve covered Sam's ears. "Fuck, I'm really late. You'll call the diner if something comes up, yeah?"

Before he could even respond, you had kissed Samantha's forehead and jogged to the car. "Great, perfect, I'll see you tonight!"

The only reason you'd been able to get a job at the diner was because Tina's family owned the place and her mom had always had a soft spot for you. It didn't, however, protect you from ire whenever you darted in fifteen minutes after your shift was supposed to start.

"This is the third time you've been late this month," Mr. Matthews lectured as you darted in the back door and grabbed your server book as you clocked in. "We have people waiting, get out there."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," you murmured, giving your best pleading look as you hit the floor. "Samantha had a rough morning, I promise I got here as quickly as I could."

Working was a great way to turn your brain off and slip back into the easy charm you'd carried yourself with in high school. The charisma and saccharine sweetness you'd used to get out of any trouble that Carol got you in… most of the time.

At least you weren't being fake to the sweet old people at the tables. They gushed over the (strategically placed) Polaroid of Sam you kept clipped to your book, right in their sight line as you took their order. Everyone was a regular, especially in quarantine where options were limited, so you milked their familiarity and empathy over your plight for your monetary benefit.

By the time the lunch rush ended, your feet hurt and your body ached as you sat at the corner booth and picked at a turkey club. The tinny speakers of your Walkman played a new mix that Steve had made. Songs for you, Fall '87.

None of the songs were actually from Fall of '87, lots of them weren't even from the eighties at all. So you listened to Mrs. Robinson and wondering if lying by omission was just as bad as bold faced lying.

The restaurant was pretty dead, which meant you could run out to the car, grab the test, and lock yourself in the employees bathroom for the next thirty minutes. If you wanted to, that was. Which you absolutely didn't.

That left taking it at home and finding thirty minutes alone that Steve wouldn't question you about, or burst in for. You loved Steve a lot, but he could be clingy when he wanted to be, which was often.

"Hey, your loverboy is on the phone, says it's a babysitting emergency?"

You sighed and stood, offering a quick apology to Mr. Matthews as you shut yourself into the back office and put the receiver to your ear. "Babysitting emergency, huh?" You asked. "A bad one?"

Babysitting emergency was the easiest cover for Steve to call with any upside down related news, because he'd never call watching Sam babysitting, and he was competent enough to figure things out without having to ask.

Steve sighed, and you could just picture him leaning against the grimy fridge in the station's kitchen and running his hands through his hair. "Mhmm, seems like it," he said. "I mean, I didn't think so, 'cause it's just the sector that has the Circuit City and Bradley's, but Nancy and the kids think it's pretty important. Y'know, they think every crawl is the one."

You chewed your lip and exhaled slowly. "Alright, just radio me tonight if you need me. I'll come and get Sam after my shift, and I can bring you over something to eat while you're driving around if you want."

"My usual?" When you hummed in affirmation he gave a dramatic sigh. "I wish you could come with me tonight. We can have Claudia watch Sam, get some alone time. I could make up for bailing on Halloween."

You snorted and rolled your eyes. "I'm not allowed to go on crawls with you anymore, remember?" You said. "I mean, god forbid we try to pass the time."

Steve laughed, and you felt an easy smile splitting your features. There was something about just hearing his voice that made your life feel a little more pleasant, despite every single complication that seemed to stack up against you.

"Ugh, I should get back," you sighed, even though you made no move to end the call. "I love you, baby."

"Yeah, I love you too. I'll see you after your shift."

Working as a waitress had never been your dream. Carol had done a stint of food service at Benny's before he'd died, and you always relished in the discounts and freebies she'd given while you loitered at the counter during her shifts, but you didn't respect it very much.

Summer between Sophomore and Junior year, she pulled strings with Benny to get you a job, but you'd resisted with a wrinkled nose and an insistence that you didn't want to smell like deep fryers all day. It went over about as well as it deserved to.

Both of you fought constantly over stupid, petty bullshit. When she spilled beer on your favorite suede jacket, or when you knocked over a bottle of red nail polish on her carpet. Anything could blow up between you two, but it didn't usually have the staying power.

But that fight hadn't been stupid. You sat on her bed and ate the food she brought back from her job and talked down on it like it was beneath you. She thought you were a spoiled brat who didn't know anything about what it was like to have to work for a living… and you got defensive because she was right.

You weren't like Steve, whose parents gave love in tithes. A couple of hundred dollar bills on the counter when they left town, an automatic deposit in the bank account. But you had been raised to see yourself as better than being a waitress or a shopgirl.

Why would you have to work when they could provide anything you needed? Actually, didn't it make them look bad if their little girl was waiting tables or folding clothes? Unbecoming.

You walked to your car after your shift with mustard staining your crewneck and the stench of deep fryer clinging to your hair. You reached into the Doritos bag and felt your stomach drop as you felt the cardboard of the box against your fingers. With a hard swallow, you skirted it and grabbed a chip instead.

It was late, so you figured you'd get a couple of hours with Sam awake, then a couple of hours of privacy while Steve was on the crawl. That was good. That gave you time, and it gave you a delay.

The squawk was buzzing with activity when you pulled up. Your nose wrinkled at the boxes of ammunition on the floor, the schematics on tables and drawn out on white boards. Sam was partitioned off away from it, closed into the manager's office with Steve, playing with My Little Ponies across the desk.

You knocked on the window and he looked up with a smile, giving an easy wave before he scooped up Sam, her toys, and joined you in the fray.

"This is crazy," you said with a nervous laugh. "Has it been like this all day?"

"Yeah, and Henderson's a no-show," he said with an eye roll. "Y'know, that kid is really on my last nerve. The attitude, the snark. And now he's bailing on a crawl?"

You eased Sam into your arms and shook your head. "Well, that's not really like him," you said with a frown. "Is he okay? Did you call Cl—"

"Claudia thinks that he's with Mike. You drove by the cemetery on the way here, did you…?" You shook your head and he sighed. "Well, he'd better show up. I don't want to be stuck in the car with Byers. You sure you can't find a sitter and ride around with me?"

You laughed and shook your head. "Keep it in your pants," you teased. "And can you not be a dickhead to Jonathan, please?"

He had the audacity to look abashed. "Hey, he's the one who has the problem with me," he said, his pitch raising with defensiveness. "I'd like to see you drive around with Mr. doom and gloom all night. 'Steve, change the tape, this song sucks. Steve, I don't want to listen to The Bulls. Steve stop chewing so loud.'"

A scoff escaped your lips. "Oh, boohoo, poor baby." He rolled his eyes and kissed your forehead. "Your dinner's on the couch, hot and greasy."

"Love you, keep the walkie on in case I get bored." He slapped your ass about as subtly as he could in a room full of people. You pecked his lips once, twice, and grabbed Sam's diaper bag by the door on your way out.

One thing that you hated about winter was the darkness. As you unloaded Sam from the car in the driveway, you felt hyper-aware of the night around you— encroaching, suffocating. The strangest feeling that something was out there watching you.

You didn't know why, but your heart thrummed in your chest, the strangest tugging feeling behind your ribs. Instinct, pure and primal, that made you hurry inside and lock the door.

It's just because of the crawl, you told yourself. Because Steve is occupied, and everyone seemed so serious, and it's so soon after the last, and you're all going stir crazy and hoping that it's the one.

But you didn't hope that it was the last, because that would mean they found Vecna, which would put them all in danger. But at the same time, you wanted it all to be over. It was a dizzying contradiction that made your brain lock up. Steve had walked out of each brush with the Upside Down with new scars, you didn't want to see what would happen this time.

Crawl 36, fifteen months since the first. Eleven months of dating Steve, officially. Eighteen months of Sam.

It was crazy how much older she felt than this time last year. There she was, walking freely, talking semi-coherently, able to play pretend with a toy kitchen and keep herself occupied. Last year, she'd been mostly-wordless, ate mush, and could hardly stand without wobbling.

She liked to play by herself, sometimes. She'd be pretending with spare pots and pans and wooden foods, and when you'd try to join you she'd give you this incredulous look, like you were in the way. But other times she'd be so clingy and affectionate— curling at your side on the couch, pleading for another story… and another one… and another one… and just one more.

She was as spoiled as a little girl growing up in Quarantine could be. You and Steve wouldn't have it any other way.

By nine, she was dozing at your side on the couch, long eyelashes fluttering as she fought sleep. Her face was awash in pastels as you both watched the Care Bears movie for what had to have been the hundredth time. She had her favorites, even if you and Steve had tried to get her to love the Muppet Movie as much as you did.

"Ready to go to bed, Peanut?" You asked, rubbing her back gently. She shook her head, but couldn't fight the yawn that escaped at the mention of sleep. "Yeah, I think you are. Should we go get our jammies?"

After a moment's hesitation, she nodded and looped her arms around your neck so that you could carry her upstairs. Steve hated the staircase, and had considered moving Sam's room into his dad's old room multiple times to keep from hauling her up and down.

Those stairs were the reason that Steve had installed a permanent baby gate in her doorway, so in case she did get out of her crib, she wouldn't get far enough to hurt herself. As soon as you put her down, she ran to her dresser and pulled out a pair of pajamas.

"These," she said, her words coming out more like deese on lips that were still learning how to say what she wanted. As a second thought, she hurried to her bookshelf to get her favorite bedtime story… then another. "These."

Bossy. You smiled and knelt down to help get her ready for bed. She was a fun age, where she was starting to have a big personality and the words to express it. All of her expressions were purely Steve, and she'd started copying his hands-on-hips stance when she was feeling particularly grumpy.

When she was all settled, you pulled her into your lap and opened the first book. With each glance down at her, you watched her eyes grow heavier and heavier, until she was fighting the heavy lids closing over her eyes.

Halfway through Baby Fozzie is Afraid of the Dark, Sam was dozing against your chest. Over the past few months, you'd become an expert at getting her into the crib without waking her up. With a soft shush as she stirred in your arms, you laid her down and pulled her quilt over her to keep her warm. Around her, muppet babies and care bears stood sentry.

The crawl was going to go well, no one would get hurt, and you and Sam were perfectly safe. But… maybe you'd sleep in her room tonight.

Steve called you on the walkie while you made a late-night cup of tea. As his voice rang over the speakers, you jumped onto the counter and sat cross-legged. "Mhmm?"

"Dustin was a no-show," he said in lieu of greeting. "I mean, what a little asshole."

You shrugged, nails tapping on the plastic casing of the radio. "He probably has a good reason, Steve. Like, what if he's dead in a ditch somewhere? You'd feel awful."

Steve scoffed. "Well, he'd better be, otherwise I'll make sure he is before the night's over." You rolled your eyes at his dramatics and swirled your spoon around the hot tea, watching the sugar granules inside dance around. "How'd Sam do?"

"Good," you replied. "She's always good, you know that. She just went down for the night, and I'm about to break out the Atari and beat your score on Ms. Pac-Man. How's Jonathan?"

"Jonathan can hear you," Steve replied. "And he's fine. We're parked and waiting for the go-ahead."

You nodded. You knew he was bored just sitting there waiting. Usually Dustin provided a bit of entertainment, or at least a verbal spar that passed the time. With Jonathan in the back, it must've felt like a cold war in there.

So you drank your tea and spilled about your day at the diner— the weird flirty old man that had given you a fifteen dollar tip, the nice little grandma who needed someone to mow her lawn for extra money, which you volunteered him for. Stacey Cooper came in to get lunch for the disgraced former-mayor Kline, and Danny came in for dinner and avoided eye contact.

He knew you didn't love your job, and that making yourself leave the house every day to go clean tables and take orders was like torture. And he also knew that you tried to pretend like it wasn't mind numbingly awful so he didn't feel too guilty.

But what other choice did you have? Beg your parents for money? Beg his for more?

"Ugh, this tea went right through me, I'm gonna go," you said. "Call me if you need me." You both said your goodbyes and you steadied yourself with a deep breath.

Empty house, hours of freedom, a Doritos bag staring at you from across the kitchen. With a huff, you stood and wrenched it open so you could grab the seasoning-dusted box from within. It felt so heavy in your hands despite weighing next to nothing at all.

Your stomach roiled with implacable emotion as you locked yourself in the bathroom and laid out the contents of the box on the counter. In your heart, you knew that you should have told Steve by then— when your period was late, when you asked Murray to smuggle you in the test, when you snuck it away from him in a fucking Doritos bag.

You thought maybe you should have called him then, but Jonathan was in the van, and a crawl was going on, and there were a million things you didn't want to interrupt.

Maybe it was because you respected the sanctity of what they were doing. Or maybe it was because you were scared that no matter the result, you'd both be disappointed. You'd prefer to save him from that, if you could. What good would knowing do?

You opened the instructions and felt the pit of anxiety in your stomach threaten to swallow you entirely. It was easy enough. Carol told you that one time Debbie thought she was pregnant and got this insane glass tube laboratory setup she had to mail off for results because she was scared their family doctor would narc to their parents.

At least it wasn't that hard anymore. Small blessings.

It would take thirty minutes total. Pee on the sampler, put it in the first well, then wait. Move it to the second, wait. And finally the third. Wait. And that's where you were— waiting.

You sat on the edge of the bathtub and twisted your ring around your finger, just watching the kitchen timer on the counter ticking closer and closer to zero. Any other day, you might have craved a cigarette.

Well, you did, but given the circumstances it felt a little inappropriate to sneak one, even if you were eyeing the pack that you'd hidden behind a collection of decorative candles on the countertop.

You weren't sure if you were pregnant, or if stress had finally taken its toll on your body and made you all irregular and off. What you did know was that you were never particularly strict about safe sex with Steve, you weren't on the pill, and you were scared that trying meant an easy opportunity for a new doctor to narc to your parents for brownie points.

And, really, you knew it was a stupid excuse. You'd been pushing your luck for months out of sheer irresponsibility. Every missed restock at the store of condoms, or time when you told Steve he should pull out, but wrapped your legs around him even tighter as you got both close. It felt like it was finally time to pay the piper.

As you sat there picking at your nails, the lights began to flicker, then flash. The radio on the countertop powered on, flipped through stations in a staticky screech, then it all went dead entirely.

You went to the wall and flicked the light switch, until suddenly the lights turned back on as normal. Across the house, you could hear Sam starting to cry. If the power had gone wonky downstairs, it had likely gone haywire in her room too.

The egg timer ticked down five minutes, but you couldn't even bear to look at the sampler where it precariously balanced in the well in case it had already shifted colors. On instinct, you grabbed the walkie as you crossed the house to the stairs, hurrying up to comfort the crying baby.

Upon entry, the air smelled singed. It didn't take long to notice the black char on the inside of her ceramic nightlight where the bulb had blown out. The speakers on the shelf played soft classical music from the naptime cassette Steve had made during a slow day at the station, apparently having remained on after the power surge.

As you swept Sam into your arms, you shushed her gently and swayed. Sam was easy most of the time, but when her sleep was interrupted she could be an absolute terror. The next few minutes were crucial if either of you were going to sleep at all.

The radio crackled to life in your grasp. "You there?" Steve's voice rang through, more fraught than it was with the usual crawl hiccup.

"Yeah, I'm here," you said. "There was a weird power surge here, did you—"

"Yeah, it fried the van's battery so we're sitting ducks out here. Can you give us a boost?" There was something else beneath his request, an urgency that made a chill run down your spine. "Please?"

Something in your gut told you that Nancy was right, that this was the big crawl. The lights had never done that before, and Steve had never seemed so scared, not even when Sam got a bug a few months back and you had to take her to the hospital for a high fever.

"Yeah, just give me time to bundle Sam up and get her in the car. Where are you?"

The line went quiet as he presumably looked for some sort of landmark. "We're on Cornwallis about… five minutes down the road from the old Shell station where we used to buy beer."

Sam was grumpy and squirmy as you changed her into something a little cozier, but what choice did you really have? With her in one arm, you grabbed a care bear absently as you hurried out the door and down the stairs.

Just as you were about to grab your keys, you heard the shrill sound of the kitchen timer going off across the house and dropped them back onto the table with a dull thump. "Sorry, baby, I'll get you in the seat in a second, I promise," you apologized to your fussy daughter as you crossed the house towards the bedroom and bath.

After Carol got pregnant, in the brief stretch of Summer before you ran out of Hawkins without looking back, you'd asked her what it was like to have a baby growing inside of her. Just the thought of it had deeply disturbed you— a little parasite draining your nutrients to grow itself.

"Well, when you say it like that, it's really weird," she said, her expression wrinkling with distaste. "Actually, don't talk about that medical shit anymore, you'll give me nightmares."

You turned onto your stomach,relishing in the heat of the summer sun on your back while she hid her fair skin beneath an umbrella. "I can't help it," you said. "It's just… medically freaky. Like, there's something living inside of you right now, suspended in amniotic fluid, and it looks like a little alien."

She rolled her eyes. "Okay, now it sounds like you're watching too many scary movies," she said with a dismissive scoff. She pulled her sunglasses down her nose and leveled you with her gaze. "I don't even feel it inside of me yet, so I don't think about it like that. It's just… something that's happening to me. And I'm not upset that it is."

It didn't make sense to you. Your mother complained about her pregnancy with you every year on your birthday. The long labor, the sickness, the bed rest, the aching feet and headaches. You couldn't imagine giving up so much of yourself thanklessly to a little creature that might grow up to wish you never had.

But Carol was happy, and you didn't have to understand.

When you came back from fall break, her skin was radiant, her hair was full, and she looked perfectly blissful. She showed you everything they ordered for the nursery, and you didn't critique the color choices once even though you really wanted to. She left to pee when she was in the middle of pointing out everything she'd gotten from the shower, and you were left standing in this baby's room with indescribable feelings of sadness.

It felt like, once again, you had been left behind. Your best friends were moving on without you, into this new phase of life that you weren't sure you belonged in. Staring at the crib, decorated with an ugly peach and teal quilted liner, you wanted to just go back to that tiny bed in her parents house and read Teen Beat until you fell asleep.

On the couch, while you curled up beside her and watched a rented tape of A Chorus Line, she moved your hand to her stomach and you grimaced at the feel of a kick. "Oh, that's so weird," you said with a shake of your head.

"Yeah, you were right all along. It is pretty freaky. This baby is fucking killing me."

You didn't look at it as you turned off the timer with unsteady hands. Your nail polish was chipping— that was something to fixate on. Red cracking off in messy flakes to reveal bare nail beneath.

You took the sampler out of the well and dropped it onto the counter without fixing your gaze downward. You didn't have to look yet. You could have a minute more. Maybe a few.

But Sam was squirming and irritable and Steve and Jonathan needed a jump start and maybe the crawl was going wrong and every second you wasted because you were scared was another opportunity for something bad to happen.

You glanced down at the test stick and exhaled shakily, feeling a strange pang of grief and relief all at once. You wanted a moment to sit with it, to really process it, but you didn't have the luxury. So you shifted Sammie higher on your hip and left to rescue your boyfriend.

She cried in the backseat as you drove through the night. No radio to listen to, no sound of Steve's voice to fill the car. It was just you and the thoughts racing through your mind as you drove across the city.

You were going to tell Steve about the test. You had to tell Steve— it wasn't something that could just wait for better circumstances. Lying by omission was still lying, and you knew that.

Your thumbs drummed against the steering wheel as you drove, enveloped on all sides by bumpy road and stretches of forest. Before long, your headlights caught the blue paint of the van, so you pulled over in front of it.

As soon as you got out of the car, Steve squeezed you tight in his arms, crushing you in his grip. You gave a weak laugh, brows furrowed as you wrapped your arms around him and hugged back. It lasted longer than usual, until you wanted to wriggle out, but decided that maybe he needed it more than you needed to breathe fresh air.

When he pulled back, you gave a weak frown. "Things are going bad, huh?" He swallowed and nodded. "Jump the car, you can catch me up."

You rocked Sam back and forth in your arms, hugging her tight to ward off the cold, while Steve and Jonathan worked on getting the van jump started. And while Jon hooked up the jumper cables to your clunker, Steve told you everything.

Hopper was missing in the Upside Down, a Demogorgon had attacked the military convoy, then the Wheeler's. And they knew that because Will had seen it, which was weird enough. And it took Holly after all of that. It looked bad for the Wheeler's. Things were bad.

"It's not safe at home anymore," he said, his lips twitching into a frown. "I don't know why it wanted to take Holly, or who it might take next, but I want you and Sam with me."

"Is that safe?" You asked feebly, swallowing hard. "I mean… the track record for people who get close with all this stuff isn't reassuring." Barbara, Bob, Billy, Eddie, Max.

Then again, the track record for people who stayed away wasn't the best either. Benny, Heather, Chrissy, Carol and Tommy. People stayed clueless and detached and bad shit happened regardless.

You stay home and you're monster food, you get too close and you're collateral damage. There was no safe path, there was only a coin flip and a desperate hope that you'd chosen correctly.

"You're safer with me, I promise," he insisted. "I wouldn't let anything happen to either of you, you know that."

And you did know that. You knew Steve, and you knew he'd do whatever it took to make sure you and Sam made it out without a single scratch, even if he killed himself in the process. That's how much he loved you both, and you hated that you were so cowardly in comparison that you couldn't start a scary conversation.

Steve could be brave. You could be brave. You wanted to be brave.

"Steve, there's something we should probably talk about, but I don't know if this is a really good time or a really bad time, so…" But his gaze was behind you, staring at the side street feeding into Cornwallis.

Because there was Dustin Henderson, bloodied and battered, wheeling his bike towards the van. Steve sighed, shoulders slumping as Dustin lifted his hand in a lazy wave. "Put a pin in that?" You nodded feebly and brought a strained smile to your lips. "And do you have your—"

"The first aid kit? Yeah, it's in the trunk. It's always in the trunk." Sidebar— you were playing nurse again because Dustin Henderson ran his mouth and got his ass beaten. You didn't need to hear the lie he'd tell this time, you just knew.

Dustin didn't want to talk about it, and you tried not to needle him about it. You ran into the Shell up the street to fill up a styrofoam cup full of fresh water… then grabbed a cold can of soda from the fridge for good measure. Dustin held the icy can to his cheekbone while you gingerly cleaned the cuts on his face.

"I told Steve not to be mad that you didn't show," you told him, sitting in the back of the van while Steve and Jonathan fussed with the battery and passed Sam between themselves. Dustin winced as you wiped at the bridge of his nose, and you frowned sympathetically. "Bike crash?"

Dustin shrugged. "I wasn't watching where I was going." You hummed softly and held your tongue. Bike crashes didn't do this. It went quiet between the two of you as you worked, but Dustin spoke up finally. "What were you like in high school? I know what Steve used to be like, but…"

A tiny smile played on your lips. "I was just another popular asshole," you said with an eye roll. "And look where it got me. I'm not exactly going to, like, end world hunger or cure cancer because I was Miss Hawkins '85."

His eyes widened, and you could tell that the expression of surprise physically pained him to make, as involuntary as it was. "You were Miss Hawkins? How did I not know this? Do you still have the crown?"

You rolled your eyes. Of course you still had the crown, but you'd never let him know that. "I was a very gracious leader. People loved me, which was weird because no one really thought much about me until Junior year." You cleared your throat and tried to ignore that soft spot that refused to fortify itself. "I also knew your friend Eddie."

Your gaze flicked down to his torn Hellfire Club shirt and you knew exactly how he wound up sitting in the van and being patched back up. "Well… I guess I didn't know him that well. First we had Homeroom my Junior year. And then in '85 I had two months of lunch detention and Eddie couldn't find a scene partner, so Mr. Hirsch told me if I did the scene and performed it for Senior Showcase with gusto he'd call it even."

Eddie wanted to do The Taming of the Shrew, which you were ideologically opposed to. But he promised it would be fun and subversive, whatever the hell that meant, and you thought you looked pretty in the musty old costumes you'd pulled from the full racks in the theater's basement. So, whatever.

He was over the top and loud, and you got the feeling he didn't think very highly of you. He'd make these little digs about you being a princess, or about how rich you were, which irked you. But Mr. Hirsch wanted gusto, so you performed with gusto.

You didn't ever talk to him again, even when you passed him at school, but he didn't make an effort to say hi either. You were never meant to be friends, and neither of you were inclined to change that. It made you a little sad, considering how great everyone who actually knew him said he was.

"How'd it go?" Dustin asked as you put the bloodied cloth down and surveyed your work. Battered, bruised, and definitely scar-worthy… but he wasn't going to get an infection.

A coy smile played on your lips. "Eddie got an A, I got out of detention, and Mr. Hirsch told me it was a real shame that I hadn't considered theatre before." Dustin laughed, just a bit, and you tossed him a bottle of Advil. "Did you at least get a good punch in?"

Dustin swallowed and nodded, and you could read the, don't tell Steve, look in his eyes as plain as day. You tossed him the WSQK crewneck and gave him a small smile. "Attaboy."

By the time Steve finally got the car cranked, you had done your best to fill Dustin in on the events of the night. It probably wasn't the most effective summary, given you'd heard it all secondhand from Steve, but he seemed to understand well enough.

"We're going to go try to find Hopper's signal," Steve said, giving you a peck on the cheek. "Why don't you and Sam head up to the station?"

You frowned, crossing your arms. "It's not exactly the best place for a toddler to sleep," you said. "How long are we going to be away from home?"

Steve sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I dunno… we'll figure it out as we go. All I know is that there was a rift in the forest, a tunnel under the backyard, and a rift at the bottom of the pool. I don't like thinking that a demo can crawl back through while you're home alone."

Spending the night at the Squawk wasn't your ideal night, especially with Sam in tow, but what choice did you have? Maybe home was unsafe, and maybe being at the station was the best place for Sam.

So you kissed him, told him to please drive safe, and made your way to the radio station, with the strangest feeling that it might have been the beginning of the end.

In the morning, you heard the van pull up to the Squawk and rubbed at your eyes. Sam had slept peacefully on the couch for most of the night, only waking a few times because her blanket had fallen off of she was missing one of her stuffed animals, but she was adaptable.

You, on the other hand, were notably not adaptable. You couldn't sleep on the springy, smoky couch, and you really couldn't let yourself sleep while worrying about Sam rolling off the couch and onto the tile floor. And worrying about Steve circling Hawkins all night in the unreliable Squawk van. And thinking that every tiny bump and squeak was a demogorgon just waiting to carve you up.

But at least Sam got good sleep. That was something.

"You're both good?" Steve asked when he made it inside, leaving the kids and Nancy outside. "Sleep okay?"

"She did," you told him, and leaned into his chest lazily. He wrapped you up in a hug and rested his chin on the crown of your head. "Watch her so I can grab something to eat? And coffee?"

He nodded and you trudged into the makeshift kitchen, a space which had been overtaken by stacks of studio junk you didn't understand. You rooted through the messily stocked cabinets and fridge until you found a half-empty, very stale box of Golden Grahams. The milk was nearly empty in the fridge, and the coffee machine gurgled in protest as you set a pot on to brew.

You grabbed one of the Boppers that Steve had gotten yesterday and took a bite, grateful to have something filling your empty stomach. With an exhausted huff, you leaned against the ancient refrigerator and watched Steve brushing Sam's hair from her face as she slowly woke up.

"Hey, morning Peanut," he greeted, and his voice was so soft that it made your heart ache. She sat up and looped her arms around his neck in a hug, and he didn't even wince at her terrible morning breath when she pulled back to say good morning.

Steve was a really, really good dad. He lifted her into his arms and carried her into the kitchen. "Anything we can get to tide her over?" He asked, peering at the cabinets. "I usually hide a container of oatmeal somewhere, I can make some in the microwave. And there should be a passable banana somewhere to mix in."

You kissed his cheek and shook your head. "Why don't you go take a quick power nap and let me handle it?" You asked with a tiny smile. "What good are you to anyone if you're a total zombie?"

He kissed your forehead, eased Sam into the booster seat at the janky dinette, and left you to make breakfast out of the random assortment of stuff from the cabinets. Oatmeal was hidden behind a stale box of Cheez-Its and a can of field peas. The passable banana was beneath a grapefruit that you would claim for yourself.

Steve had crashed by the time the rest of the party walked into the station. Samantha lit up at the sight of Dustin, and reached for him across the room, squirming in her seat. "Dusty! Dusty!" He came over and knelt by her chair, wincing as she poked at his bruised cheek. "Ouch."

He gave a wry laugh. "Yeah, ouch. Don't touch."

"Sit with her for a second?" You asked. When he nodded, you crossed the room to wrap Nancy in a tight hug. She stiffened for a second, then relaxed in your arms. You could smell the metallic, coppery smell of blood, maybe in her hair, even if there was no visible trace on her hands and her clothes. "How are you doing, Nance?"

She pulled back and gave an attempt at a smile. "About as well as I can be, I guess," she said. She shifted herself out of your hug and put a little bit of distance between you, and looked like she was going to turn and leave before adding, "Um, do you know Dr. Richards? He's the doctor in charge of the ICU, I guess. I guess I'm just wondering if he's good."

Your expression softened and you shrugged. "Yeah. I mean, he's a total chauvinist dickhead, but he's a pretty good doctor," you replied. "Hawkins Memorial is, like, the best place for your parents to be. And if it got really bad, they'd bring in the super good military doctors to patch them up. "

Nancy nodded and headed for the dinette, pausing just before she could cross the threshold. "How are you doing?" She asked, narrowing her brows.

You glanced at a sleeping Steve and back at her, narrowing your eyes right back. "Fine."

She cocked her head. "Yeah? No update about what we talked about last week?"

You brought an easy smile to your lips and shook your head. "I'm fine, Nance," you insisted. "I've got this handled."

Maybe Nancy Wheeler wasn't the best choice of a person to go to when you were in a crisis. Nancy wanted answers. Nancy needed solutions. So when you called her, panicked, two and a half weeks prior about a very late period and never followed up, she couldn't let it lie.

In all fairness, could anyone? But no one else had Nancy's perception and uncanny ability to read people, like she could see the truth in your eyes. And in that moment, you were about as challenging to read as a picture book.

Steve got a thirty minute nap before the rest of the group shook him awake. You stayed in the managers office and entertained Sam with copy paper and toddler-sized crayons. While the rest of the group planned… whatever beyond the doors, Sam drew what looked like a multicolored sea urchin… and you drew a remarkably uncanny cartoon of Steve holding the rubber chicken.

You finally crashed on the couch, cuddled up with a napping Sam. You felt drowsiness like a wave, pulling you under until it washed over you entirely. A couch that smelled like smoke, the scratchy cushions, the soft cadence of your daughter's breathing. It didn't matter that the sun was out, you slept better than you had in days.

You dreamed of Carol and Tommy, of hanging out in Tommy's bedroom and smoking cigarettes out of the window. It slipped away when Steve gently nudged you awake, but there was an impression of them behind your eyes. Equal parts comfort and longing.

With a few slow blinks, you brought yourself back to life, groaning at the sunshine. You glanced down and frowned at the sight of Sam missing beside you, but Steve didn't seem worried. "How long was I out? Where's Sam?"

"Robin's letting her play with the control deck in the studio," he said, with a casual glance through the glass over your head. "You looked like you could use some sleep while we got everything ready for tonight. Murray's bringing supplies, and shit. I didn't want to wake you up to ask, so I just told him to grab you a candy bar from a gas station if he stops."

You yawned and scrunched your face as you sat up. It was getting closer to midday, which meant you had been asleep for longer than you liked. It felt a little embarrassing to think about you totally passed out asleep on the couch while everyone did official business. "What's there to get ready?" You asked.

Steve shrugged and reached over to play with your fingers, twisting your ring around and around. "Well, we think Vecna's coming for this kid, Derek, I guess," his mouth twitched a little, anxiously. "So, long story short, we're drugging and kidnapping him and his family so we can set a trap for the demogorgon, tag it, and track it."

The last part of the plan came out in a sudden rush, and you could do little more than just scoff in surprise. "Steve, what the fuck."

"I know, but I can explain everything in the car," he insisted. "It's totally foolproof."

It was, remarkably, not foolproof. Robin was stealing drugs from the hospital your parents worked at, Nancy was going to have to shoot a stupid, scary monster, Lucas was in harms way throwing water balloons at the thing, and Erica had to drug an entire family.

Your fingers drummed on your thigh as Steve drove back to the house. Outside the windows, it was just another nice day out. Chilly, but sunny. Kids played at the park, old men walked their fluffy little dogs.

You wondered where you'd go when things were over. Carol and Tommy's place had been foreclosed on after sitting on the market for so long without payments, and you weren't really sure if that affected your credit or not, since it was technically two dead people's house.

Maybe Daniel and Sylvia would let you stay in the house. Maybe you could find a nice rental by your school and Steve could get a job nearby and Sam could stay at the campus daycare. You did want to go back to school, for sure, but the question of finances made your stomach turn.

Or maybe you were just hungry again. Steve pulled into the driveway and leaned over to kiss your cheek. You closed your eyes and exhaled slowly, relishing in the proximity. If things were perfect, you could just stay there. Lean over, wrap yourself up in him, and let the rest of the world melt away.

"What are you thinking about, huh?" He asked, mumbling against your skin. "Don't worry about anything, honey. Things are going to turn out just fine."

You rushed ahead of him in the house with the excuse that you really had to pee and take a shower, definitely before he did. He didn't question it. You tossed all of the evidence of the test you took, and turned the shower to the hottest it could go.

The guilt gnawed at you, making your stomach turn, but what choice did you have? Holly was missing, El was lost with Hopper somewhere in the Upside down… it wasn't the time for distractions. Maybe if you told him he'd get in his head about it and he'd get distracted and then things would go wrong and the plan would fail or they'd all get arrested. It'd all be your fault. You'd ruin everything. They'd hate you.

So you wouldn't say anything. You could wait a few more days, easy.

The wind whipped around you as you walked up the steps to the Perkins' house. Sam's cheeks were pink from the cold, even just from the short walk. The weather had turned as the sun got low, and you tugged your trench coat around yourself as you knocked on the door and waited.

Mrs. Perkins smiled as soon as she caught sight of her grandbaby, and you gave an extremely grateful smile. "Thanks so much, Mrs. Perkins, you're a lifesaver," you insisted. "It's just that Steve's come down with the flu, and you know she just had that stomach bug two months ago and it was so hard on her."

Mrs. Perkins eased her into her arms and gave you a smile. "Don't mention it. We always love having our sweet Samantha over," she insisted. You followed her into the house, lugging her diaper bag and overnight bag with you.

Their house was just as you remembered it. You followed Mrs. Perkins as she walked you deeper into the house and pushed open the door where Carol's bedroom used to be. Your heart ached, twinging as you looked up at the glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling and the crochet quilt at the foot of the bed that Mimi Perkins had made. Where Carol's vanity used to be, there was a clearly secondhand crib with a green quilt that clashed terribly with the yellow paint on the walls.

You swallowed down a lump in your throat and blinked away the persistent sting in your eyes. "Um… I packed her favorite stuffed animals. She always sleeps with her Bedtime Bear and the gorilla. She calls it scary dog, I don't know why. And I packed her favorite books, she loves the Muppet Babies. And I have a cassette Steve made her for bedtime that always knocks her right out."

Mrs. Perkins put two hands on your shoulders and gave you a reassuring smile. "It's just a couple of days, honey," she said gently. "She'll be alright."

You nodded and sniffled a little as you leaned forward to kiss Sam's forehead. "Mama loves you so much, okay?" You said gently. She nodded and knocked her forehead to yours. "Be an angel for Nana Perkins."

You knew she would, and you knew she'd be fine, but leaving her behind felt like a betrayal. She'd already lost two parents, and there you were, following Steve into danger. But you wanted to see things through with your own eyes— you wanted no question that your girl was going to grow up safe.

You drove to McCorkle farm and wiped your eyes before you got out of the car. Being emotional wouldn't serve anyone, least of all yourself. You sniffled and leaned your forehead against the steering wheel as you tried to collect yourself. This was right, you were doing the right thing.

When you finally gathered your wits enough to join everyone else, you found Steve leaning against the Beamer, arms crossed, with a frown etching his features.

"Still pouting about your car?" You asked, flicking the metal satellite. Steve scoffed, scuffing his feet on the ground. He was well and truly pouting, and it struck you how young both of you still were, even if you felt like you'd aged decades in the past eighteen months. "Hey, it's fun, maybe we can start a ghost hunting task force after all of this."

Steve glared over at Dustin, but broke his stare to look at you. His gaze softened almost imperceptibly, and you felt his gaze tracking over your watery, red eyes. "You've been crying," he noted, and his words were soft where his tone was still sharp. "Did she not want to go?"

You sighed and shook your head. "No, it's not that. It's just always hard to leave her alone, especially with all of this—" You gave a vague wave of your hand where the kids loaded up in the Squawk van and stocked up with axes and tools. "I just want to make sure both of us come home to her."

Steve swallowed and closed his eyes for a second. His chest rose and fell with a deep, slow breath. Maybe he felt dumb for being so upset about his car when there was a lot more at stake. You knew the feeling.

"Hey, we're just driving around," he insisted. "Worst that'll happen is we get a ticket."

That wasn't the worst. In your brain, you traced the millions of ways that this could go wrong and wind up with the two of you rotting in a military prison, dead, or worse. And you tried to stay optimistic anyway— so far, Steve had survived a fight with a demogorgon, being swarmed by demodogs, Russian torture, a giant gooey flesh monster, being swarmed by bats, and attacking Vecna in person… that was a pretty good track record.

Maybe a drive around Hawkins wouldn't be too terrible.

Steve nudged your shoulder with his arm and you reluctantly cracked a smile. "I really love you," He said, tucking your hair behind your ear. "Things have just been so off between us lately, y'know? And I know it's because of the job, and money, and a million other things, and I should be there for you more, but I promise it'll get better."

Your lips twitched into a frown. "Steve, you're just fine," you insisted. "I swear, it's not any of that, it's…" The words died on your tongue as Steve looked at you expectantly. You could taste the words on your tongue, so close to just spilling out, but you just couldn't. "It's not as important as this. Like… Property damage, breaking and entering, drugging, kidnapping… That's a lot for a rap sheet."

Steve chuckled under his breath. Across the farm, Lucas whistled and slapped the side of the van. Dustin, Nancy, and Jonathan headed for the Beamer. "We'll be fine. Take shotgun? I'm still mad at Henderson."

When you finally parked across the street, you watched in awe and terror as Erica cried fake tears and lied her way into the house with the drugged pie. She was a thoroughly terrifying little girl, and equally impressive.

"Y'know…" you said in the quiet of the car. "I should feel bad about being a part of all of this, but when I was going door to door for Mondale, they were such assholes. Major fucking republicans, by the way. Like… mouths surgically attached to Reagan's ass—"

"Okay, ew," Steve groaned. "We get the picture, and it's disgusting."

You sighed and knocked your head against the door. "Do you think the old lady that Robin took the meds from is going to be okay?" You asked again, to be met with silence. "'Cause, like, imagine she's in serious pain and that's the only way she can sleep, and the nurse on duty just thinks that she's a junkie and took it all and can't have anymore."

Dustin put a hand on your arm. "Yeah, we don't usually talk this much." You gave a sheepish smile and held your tongue as you watched the silhouettes of the Turbow's and Erica eating the pie through the drawn curtains. Your nails drummed on the window, and when that felt too loud, you drummed them on your knee.

Finally, the garage opened and the group jumped into action. You scrambled to follow behind, tossing your purse into the car so you could hurry across the street. The Squawk van was in the drive… it wasn't exactly subtle. You looked at your surroundings, praying that no neighbors chose that time to look out their windows, and frowned as you slipped into the garage.

They had their marching orders, and you did your best not to get in the way. Moving furniture, helping set traps. When Dustin handed you an axe, you looked at him incredulously.

"I can't use this," you said with a weak laugh, nudging it back towards him..

Dustin pushed it back into your grip. "Figure it out, Miss Hawkins."

You huffed and looked at Steve, who shrugged. Figure it out. You swallowed and carried the axe into the living room, feeling like a bunny in a lions den.

You were spoiled, and coddled, and babied. You were so out of your depth that you felt embarrassed just standing there among them. You raised the axe and slammed it down onto the white chalk mark on the ground. The wood splintered around the impact point, and you wrenched the blade free with shocking ease.

Turns out, lifting and carrying a toddler around for hours every day did wonders for your upper body strength. There was something cathartic about it too— seeing this perfect, beautiful wood floor that the asshole boot-licking losers paid thousands for destroyed at your hand. To see anything destroyed, like a manifestation of everything you'd been holding in for months.

You lost yourself in that catharsis until everyone else stopped and you looked up. Steve Harrington. Your boyfriend, the total show off. He was a showman, revving the chainsaw like he was in a horror movie before he took the tool to the hardwoods that you'd all barely put a dent in.

Afterward, when the floor caved in, you watched him panting across the room. He dropped the chainsaw, pulled back the goggles, and tugged at his sweater. He was annoyingly handsome, and you knew from the smile he sent you across the room that he knew it. The total asshole.

You two got to the car first, while Dustin did a quick pass at the traps to ensure everything was in order. "That shit with the chainsaw was super phallic," you said with a grin, nudging him across the center console. "You totally ruined my flow with the axe too. I was actually good with it."

He rolled his eyes. "If it looked like a dick it's because you wanted it to, perv." You shook your head and fought a grin. Maybe he was a little right. Whatever. "How did Dustin find out about you being Miss Hawkins?"

You felt your cheeks going a little warm with sudden humility. "I… was trying to bond with the kid," you said. "He asked what I was like in high school."

Steve nodded, lips twitching. "And you started bragging?"

You rolled your eyes. "I was not bragging. I was actually being kind of self-deprecating, so…"

You reached into the glove box and grabbed a Bopper. You hadn't eaten since you'd stopped at home, and your stomach was starting to growl. Steve leaned over and took a bite from your hand. It was weird, being included— the rush and the fear and the excitement.

"You said you wanted to talk to me about something last night," he said, wiping crumbs from his mouth. "I didn't forget, y'know. Things have just been so… but yeah, did you want to talk about it now, or…?"

You thought about it, really. But one glance over his shoulder, and you saw Dustin jogging back to the car. "It's not bad," you said quickly. "Just maybe not a conversation to have around Henderson, y'know?"

He nodded and gave your hand a squeeze. "Yeah. Duh."

Dustin slid into the backseat, eyes immediately narrowing at the sight of you two making eyes at each other. "Can you detach, please?"

With a grin, you glanced back at him. "Dustin, we're literally just sitting together."

"Doesn't matter, I'm nauseated, and we need to focus." He glanced out the window, watching the streetlights disappearing up the hill in the distance. You swallowed your defensiveness and turned your gaze out the window too.

The three of you sat in silence, watching lights that didn't flicker, didn't pulse. You leaned your head onto Steve's shoulder, almost lulled by the sound of Robin rambling on the other end of the radio. Something about the hospital and stealing the meds, and fingerprints, and sentencing, and Steve's uncle.

You watched a streetlamp flicker and held your breath. And they were moving, tracing a sparkling path to the Turnbow house. You sat up in your street, watching the lights in the house dance as the demogorgon made its way through the upside down.

Through the window, you saw something. An imposing height, gray, muscular flesh. Michael Jordan tall. Face like a flower with teeth. Sure, Will had drawn you a picture, but seeing it made it real. It wasn't pencil on paper or exaggerated words. It was alive, and it was in the house with people you cared about.

"Buckle up, honey," Steve said, but your gaze was glued to the window, where you watched the figure stalking towards Lucas. You flinched when he reached over you to buckle you in himself. "Hey, can you do this?"

Do what? Ride in a car near danger? If you couldn't say yes you'd be totally humiliated… and left on the side of the road in Loch Nora next to an active B&E case. So, even though you were unsure, you nodded quickly.

You screamed when Nancy and Jonathan banged on the car windows to get in, which definitely didn't help your, totally handling it, case. While Steve drove through backyards to chase down a creature that didn't care about traffic laws, you white knuckled the door handle and kept your eyes squeezed shut.

If the monster didn't kill you, the Beamer careening off the road and into a tree would. Then who would raise Sam? Debbie? Your parents? Worse… his parents? He hit a bump and you jostled, eyes peeking open to see woods passing by so fast that it looked like you were at hyperspeed.

You were going to puke. You were going to puke and probably die in this stupid fucking car.

McCorkle farm came into view and your stomach turned. The demogorgon had found Derek. It was going to capture him, which meant the plan had failed. You watched the demogorgon flip— tearing out of an oak tree on the side of the road and leaving glowing red sinew in its wake.

Steve shifted gears, trying to catch up to the impossibly fast monster. He turned fast and your head knocked into the glass of the window with a dull thud, making your head go a little fuzzy.

The demogorgon clawed at the barn doors, and you could sense Steve hesitating. Idling as he watched.

"Steve, floor it!"

"Drive, Steve!"

"C'mon, man, that's my family in there, hit it!"

It was all distant in your ears. You weren't built for this. You had wanted in because you didn't want to be left out, but you were so far out of your depth that you were choking on your fear.

Steve hit the gas, the monster slammed into the front of the car and you flinched as you heard it rolling over the roof. They were all alive with adrenaline, laughing and cheering, but your veins were ice as it stood to its full height in front of the car— bloody and visceral. Its face opened as it shrieked, and you squeezed Steve's arm so hard that you thought you might leave a bruise.

It was fast, so fast it could have easily reached through the window and killed you all for sport. But it just went still, and that was the scariest part of all, like it was thinking. You made a soft, wounded sound akin to a whimper and turned away from it, just as it turned and ran towards the silo and ripped a rift into the sheet metal like it was tissue paper.

Steve's hesitation was like a sixth presence in the car, fingers twitching on the gear shift, heart thrumming— you could feel it just like you could feel your own terror. His eyes flicked between the gravel path to the glowing silo. As he turned to Dustin, his eyes met yours, wide like a prey animal.

And you just knew that Steve, this man that you loved so much that it felt like an ache, was going to get you killed. Get all of you killed. Their conversation was muffled behind the pounding of your heart, because Steve wanted to go through that, to follow it on its turf.

"We can't," you muttered, at the same time that Jonathan argued against the suicide mission. "Steve, we can't. We can't, we'll die."

"It's fine," he insisted. "We've done it before, we'll be fine. Nothing's going to happen to us." The signal was getting weaker, and Nancy just wanted to get to her sister. Maybe you couldn't blame her for giving Steve the permission he was waiting for, you just wished you would have gotten out of the car first.

While Dustin and Jonathan panicked and begged Steve to stop the car, you squeezed your eyes shut and held onto the door handle, unable to watch the rift drawing closer and closer. The tires ground against the gravel road, spitting it out as it sped forward.

It wasn't until you heard Steve sigh in relief that you opened your eyes to see Hawkins leached of all color and light. Your brows furrowed as you peered out, watching that same weird snow that fell after the quake floating by as you drove through.

You looked in the side mirror, brows furrowing as you watched the gate closing entirely. A claustrophobic feeling settled over you, like the time you'd been shut into your trunk as a prank at camp.

The "door" had closed firmly behind you, and the only other one you knew of was in the middle of the Mac-Z. The five of you were stuck in the Upside Down with no way out that didn't lead to immediate detainment and jail time.

Your forehead thumped against the window as you looked outside, watching red lightning flash and illuminate the sky, listening to the roar of thunder that sounded like it was coming from everywhere at once.

The demo had a head start, so that was a relief, at least. You didn't have to watch its gray skin stretching and moving around corded muscles as it ran. Steve's nightmares made sense to you now— how could you close your eyes when you might dream that you're here, in this place, with those things?

"You're quiet," Steve said, glancing over at you. "I thought you'd have more to say about all of this. Are you catatonic over there?"

You scoffed and rolled your eyes, still staring out the window outside as you passed the Hagan's. Tommy's stupid dirt bike was outside, parked crooked in the driveway, covered in the same freaky, slimy vines that everything else was. Just as fast as you saw it, it disappeared into the shadowy darkness behind the car.

He squeezed your hand. "Hey." It snapped you from your thoughts and into a very upsetting present. "Are you with me?"

You pulled your hand from his and stared out the window. He didn't push, for the moment, which was a relief. His hand moved back across the center console, and twitched against the gear shift.

"Going left, towards Lancaster." Dustin's voice became background noise as he navigated Steve through the upside down after the demo.

All the while, you watched the bad version of Hawkins outside, frozen in 1983, and wondered what you'd find if you went back to your room on that day. One of Steve's Queen casettes thrown at the wall, still in plastic chunks on the carpet and surrounded by flecks of chipped paint. Your diary and every shameful, hurt thing you'd scrawled in pen.

Carol had stayed over the same night that Will went missing— you'd driven her and Tommy to school in the morning. Would her pendant be on the nightstand? The same one that she'd been wearing the night that she died?

Were they in here? Your jaw worked as you finally let yourself think about what had happened to them last March. Did the rift burn through them like Lucas saw happen to that Jason guy? Did they die from the fall through? Could that even kill a person? Did they starve? Did they get hunted by something like the monster you were chasing? Were they alone and rotting somewhere while you were living their lives?

Had Steve ever looked for their bodies so he could bring them home? Didn't they deserve a resting place better than this?

You hadn't realized you were picking your cuticles until Steve pulled at your hands again. It was a bad habit, one of Steve's that you had unconsciously mirrored. When you glanced down at your hands, your thumbnail was outlined in blood.

"Talk to me," Steve said again. "This is serious stuff, I can't have you freaking out on us."

"You drove through a fucking gate into this place," you accused, finally whirling around to face him. "We're stuck in here because you're impulsive and selfish."

"I'm selfish?" He scoffed, glancing between the road ahead and your fiery expression. "I'm doing this because Holly's alone in here."

"Yes, you are selfish, Steve," you argued, your voice raising more than what was comfortable in the cramped car. "We had a plan, and you disregarded it and threw yourself— no— all of us into danger because you think you're a Hawkins loser who has to prove himself by being a hero. But you're not a hero, Steve, you're just an idiot."

Steve's grip went white on the steering wheel, and you knew you'd said a terrible thing just to sink your claws in. The car went quiet, interrupted only by Dustin throwing out directions for Steve to follow with a noticeably feeble tone.

"You know what?" He finally said, when he decided he couldn't just bite his tongue and let you wound him anymore. "I asked you if you could handle this. You could've gone home and stayed with Sam, but you didn't. You begged to know everything, because you're so goddamn scared of being left out all of the time. And maybe, just maybe, you were always left out because you can be a really miserable person."

You felt your eyes go watery, and your lip start to wobble, but you couldn't just take it lying down. "I'm miserable? For being the one to point out that you didn't think this through and now we're stuck with no way out?" He huffed, gripping the wheel tighter. "If I'm so miserable and off base, I want to know your plan. How are we going to get back to Sam? Our daughter, in case you forgot."

Steve scoffed and looked over at you. The muscles in his jaw went tight, and his gaze went hard. "You don't trust me to handle it? You don't think I would do whatever it takes to get us home? Do you think I'd just let you die in here? Is that it?"

"Turn right!" Dustin piped up from the back, and Steve turned sharply onto the side street with barely a glance at the road. The sign for the Roane Cemetery whipped past the window, not that either of you were paying attention.

"I think you can't admit when you're wrong. Which you are."

"I think you need to be right all of the time. But what do I know? I'm just a Hawkins loser."

A laugh escaped you and you exhaled sharply through your nose. Nancy and Jonathan were mumbling something to each other, or maybe your blood was pounding so hard in your ears that it was muffling them. You couldn't tell, and you really didn't want to hear their input on your relationship anyway. Glass houses and stones and what not. "Okay, fine."

"Fine?"

"Yeah, fine. I'm a miserable bitch and you're a Hawkins loser and none of it is going to matter when we die in here."

"Stop the car, Steve!" Nancy yelled from the backseat.

The two of you turned towards the windshield at once, and you froze at the sight of a giant hulking wall taking up your entire field of vision. Steve reacted fast, shifting gears, slamming on the breaks, but you continued to careen towards it, fishtailing as the car struggled to stop.

You felt the initial impact like a rattle in your bones— the sudden pressure of a speeding car flying towards an immoveable object dispelling through you. The windshield shattered into jagged crystals that spilled across the dashboard and your lap.

When car slammed to a stop, your head smashed into the dash with a dull, stinging thud. You felt something slick and hot, going from your forehead to your hair, but mostly you just felt exhausted, like you'd run a marathon. You thought you heard the horn going off, distant and far away, but then there was nothing at all.

A/N: Yayyyy so as you can tell, tcogb6 was getting WAY too long to post in one part, so I decided to split it up into two! Part 7 is underway now :) Please message me any thoughts, feelings, or theories that you have... i'm very very curious to know your thoughts after this one >:)

“Sure,” the orderly said easily. “Deputy, I know you were supposed to have a private room down here, but unfortunately our hallways are overcrowded and it’s not safe to have so little room to maneuver, particularly with how busy we are tonight.”

“Ok?” Gator asked, already annoyed. You could hear it in his voice.

“We have another patient who will be in your room for a short time—she won’t take up much space. No bed, just a chair.”

There was a pause, during which you found yourself surprised that Gator was actually entertaining it, but then—

“Absolutely fuckin’ not. Hell you think this is?” Gator asked.

“It’s a hospital, sir. She needs to be out of the hallway, and she’ll be in and out.”

“I’ll show ‘er in and out,” Gator quipped, but before either he or you could protest, the orderly exited the room, took hold of the handles of your wheelchair, and pushed you into Gator’s room. The overhead lights were dark, but the light directly above Gator’s bed was on, and you saw him glaring over at you as you entered. “Mind hittin’ that light, Butch?” Gator asked the orderly, and as he left the room he flicked the light switch, bathing you both in cold fluorescent light from above as the door swung shut behind him. “Eh,” Gator intoned.

“Eh?” you repeated, frowning and crossing your arm (well, arm, since the other was basically immobile), squinting a little at the glare of the lights even as your eyes slowly adjusted.

“Ain’t nothin’ too special t’look at,” he said, eyeing you, sling and all. “Coulda left the lights off.”

“Jesus,” you muttered, standing up from the wheelchair and crossing over to turn the lights off again with your good arm. “There, you look a hell of a lot better in the dark too.”

But Gator only chuckled. “Fuckin’ bitch,” he muttered, and then went back to what he’d been doing when the orderly had interrupted him: A book of word search puzzles.

You stared long enough, standing in the middle of the room, that it was noticeable, and Gator looked up at you again, scratching the side of his nose with the pencil he was holding.

“What?”

Caught, you stumbled over your words. “Nothing, I just—I wouldn’t expect to see you doing word puzzles.”

Gator blinked at you, eyes narrowed. “We know each other’r somethin’?”

“Wh—No,” you said. “I just—I know of you.”

His face relaxed into a smirk. “You know of me? Fuck’s that mean?” He sounded amused.

“I mean—The sheriff… Sheriff Tillman. ‘A hard man for hard times.’” You forgot to keep the mocking edge from your voice, so you just spurred on. “You’re his son. Everyone in the county knows you.”

Gator kept his eyes on you, then hummed, noncommittal. “A’right.” He went back to his book.

You sat back down, mostly because you felt awkward standing in the middle of the room, and pushed yourself back and forth a little, rolling the wheelchair to and fro. It went on for a minute or so, probably, until Gator sighed heavily and looked over at you.

“So what happened t’yer arm?” he asked. “Some guy rough y’up?”

You snickered. “Not in the way you think.”

“Hell’s’at mean?”

“We were having a good time, until we weren’t.”

There was a beat of silence, and then he snickered. “So it’s a sex thing?” He laughed. “Damn, how’d you fuck up fuckin’ that bad that ya needed the hospital?”

“I dislocated my shoulder,” you said.

“You did?” Gator asked. “Or he did?”

“Ok, Deputy, relax.” You adjusted your arm a little in the sling. “Everyone was a consenting adult, I just—got the shit end of the stick.”

“So where’s yer guy?” Gator asked. “Bet he’d love knowin’ y’were in here w’me. Since everyone in the county knows me ‘nd all.”

“He—” you said, but cut yourself off. Where was he? Last you’d seen him he was in the drivers’ seat of his pickup, telling you you’d be fine but he had work in the AM so he couldn’t stick around, and if you needed anything, to just let him know. He’d driven away before you realized that he’d never given you his number, so. Where was he indeed. By now, he was probably home, beer drunk and cock jerked, sleeping like a baby before his shift in the morning. “Don’t know, don’t care.”

Gator laughed. “Cold.”

“Well, he left me here and blew me off, so.”

“A’right, that’s worse. ‘Nd after you blew him’n everything too. Damn.”

“Who said I blew him?” you asked, not quite believing you were entertaining this line of conversation.

“Ya look like the type,” Gator said, shrugging.

“Excuse me?” you asked, scowling at him, offended.

“What?” he asked, trying to hide his amusement, but you absolutely heard him snickering. “It’s a compliment.”

“How is that a compliment?”

“Means ya look… givin’. ‘Nd carin’, y’know. Generous and shit.”

“Pig,” you said, turning your wheelchair away from him and facing the door.

“Aw, c’mon, don’t be like that. I meant it. Ya seem like a real nice broad.” You turned to glare at him over your shoulder.

“I don’t want to be in here with you just as much as you don’t want to be in here with me,” you said.

“So we’re even,” he said, then gestured at your arm. “That shit hurt?”

“Uh, yeah?” you said. “We can try to recreate what I was doing if you want to see for yourself.”

“Yeah, fuck that,” Gator said, but he was chuckling to himself. He smiled over at you. “Fun as I’m sure it was.”

“So what happened to you?” you asked.

“Waitin’ on some stitches,” he said, then fell silent.

You waited for him to keep talking, but he didn’t. “What happened?”

“This,” Gator said, and curled his hand into the sheets on top of him, pulling them to the side to reveal his leg, thigh draped in the hospital gown. He tugged up the hem of the gown and you saw a thick pad of gauze, not quite bled through but a red sliver was making itself known.

“Um,” you said, because that didn’t quite answer your question in its entirety.

“Some fucker’ got me with a boxcutter,” he said.

“And it was big enough to need stitches?”

Gator fixed you with a look. “Wanna see it?”

“No, I’m good,” you said, but he started peeling the gauze away. “I said I’m good. Gator! I’m good!” 

He’d barely uncovered an inch of it, but you could see that the gash was larger, a decent slice dug into his thigh. “So yeah, need some stitches. Wasn’t too deep, it ain’t still bleedin’ too much or nothin’, but it’s long enough it needed, ah… medical attention.” He turned to look at you, and before you could react he continued. “Got something else long enough y’d need medical attention. ‘Nd as luck should have it we’re both already in the goddamn hospital.”

“You’re disgusting,” you said. “And just to knock you down another peg, you’re not nearly as attractive in a hospital gown as you think you are.”

“Not even with these on?” Gator asked, reaching to the tray table set off to the side. He grabbed something you couldn’t see, then slid his sunglasses onto his face. It was so unexpected and lighthearted that you laughed—genuinely.

“Sorry, no,” you said, shaking your head a little. Sure, you were both trapped in the same room off of the emergency department at the hospital, but Gator Tillman was fucking flirting with you. Badly, but still. Even if he was just doing it to pass the time, he was still coming on to you.

“So—y’know my name,” Gator said. “You gonna tell me yers or do I gotta bust out the badge and ask fer ID?”

“The badge is worse than the shades,” you said, and he lifted them off his eyes and furrowed his brow at you, like he was trying to gauge if you were serious or not. But before he could question you, you’d given him your name.

Gator marked his page in the puzzle book with the pencil, then held out his right hand toward you to shake, reaching out over his own body. You didn’t make a move to stand or wheel closer to him.

“Dammit woman, don’t leave me hangin’,” he said. “Tryna be, uh, upstandin’ here.”

“My arm’s in a sling,” you said, pointing to your right arm with your working left one. “Sorry.”

“Fuckin’ excuses,” he grumbled.

But he wasn’t such terrible company, really, not for the few short minutes you’d spent with him. At least he was entertaining, and he’d rolled with the punches you’d thrown back at him in response to his sexist BS. You stood up, took the two steps to his bedside, and placed your left hand in his, not quite shaking it but trying to, at least. His hand was cold in yours, the skin rough like you’d expected, but still softer than you’d thought it would be. Just as the thought crossed your mind, you pulled your hand away, because you didn’t want to linger and give him any ideas.

“You got any more puzzle books?” you asked, gesturing at the word search book.

“You can take this one,” Gator said. “Was in here already when they dumped my ass on this bed.” He proffered it to you. You took it.

“How long have you been in here?” you asked, sitting back down and opening the book to where he’d marked it. The word searches on the open pages were complete (left) and half-done (right). 

“Got here after you,” Gator said. “Y’said, what—you been here fer three hours?” 

You nodded, looking down at the word search he’d left unfinished. The theme was “Picnic.” You noticed that he did them the same way you did: alphabetically by the word list. That… surprised you. He’d left off at lemonade so you started searching for it, the pencil clutched in your left hand, the book balanced on your lap.

“Yeah, I got here ‘bout… midnight.”

“Surprised you’re still waiting,” you commented, trying to be flippant, but it definitely came out more bitter than you’d intended.

“Why’s’at?” Gator asked.

You circled lemonade in the word search, a little wobbly since you were balancing it on your legs and handling it with just one hand. Now you were looking for napkins. “The name Tillman carries weight around here. Didn’t you know?”

“‘Parently not enough,” Gator said. “Got my ass sittin’ in here with some chick who thinks she can just say whatever’s on her mind like I ain’t gonna take it personal.”

“That’s a fragile ego, Deputy,” you said. Napkins jumped out at you on the page, but when you went to circle it, you dropped the pencil, and when you leaned over to pick it up, the book fell off your lap. You sighed heavily and picked them up.

“Ain’t nothin’ fragile ‘bout me, sweetheart,” Gator said, derisively, watching you.

“Well, from where I’m sitting,” you said, hoisting yourself back into the wheelchair, book and pencil in hand, the puzzle page you were working on lost, “seems like there is.”

“Why? ‘Cause’a my leg? Fucker got the jump on me, ain’t nothin’ more to it.”

“No. Because you care what a chick you just met and probably never will again thinks about you.”

“Whoa. Now just wait a fuckin’ second, who said that?”

“You did,” you said, absently flipping through the pages of the puzzle book, looking for “Picnic” again.

“When the fuck did I say that?”

“Just now,” you said, looking up at him, tucking the pencil behind your ear so you had one less thing to balance while you were looking through the book. “If you’re taking what I’m saying personally, you’re giving it weight. And if me not being a badge bunny and knowing you throw your last name around like it’s an extra six inches is getting to you, then that ego of yours is made of fine china.”

He watched you, eyes narrowed just a little, as you found the page you’d left off on, then reached to untuck the pencil from your ear. As soon as you’d lifted your hand, the book fell to the floor again and you groaned, tossing your head back, and the pencil clattered to the floor behind you.

“God fucking—damn it,” you groaned, and Gator only chuckled.

“Gimme that fuckin’ book,” Gator said, ignoring—or, at the very least not acknowledging—what you’d said. 

“You said I could have it,” you said, mostly to be petulant.

“And they said you’d be ‘in’n’out’,” Gator said, mimicking the orderly’s voice. “‘Nd yet yer still fuckin’ here. Gimme that book, pick up the pencil, ‘nd get yer ass over here.”

As you watched, he reached his left hand out to lower the railing on the side of the bed, then shimmied a little to the side, like he was making room for you to sit beside him.

You shook your head, but stood up to grab the pencil from where it had fallen anyway, then looked at him again, confusion still etched on your face.

“I said git,” Gator said, palm slapping the mattress beside him.

“For what?”

“Only got three workin’ arms ’tween us,” he said. “You wanna do yer fuckin’ word search, you look for ‘em ‘nd I’ll cross ‘em off.”

It felt like a trap, almost. You weren’t the biggest busybody in Dickinson, but you heard everything that women said about the police in this town, especially the Tillmans. And yet, you were with Gator, getting firsthand, empirical evidence that he could, actually, behave himself. You were still more than an arm’s length away, though, so who knew how long that would last?

You picked up the fallen book, then handed it and the pencil to Gator. He took it, opened it, found “Picnic,” then looked at you expectantly, before angling his head toward the bed beside him, looking at it pointedly. You stepped over and climbed onto it beside him, careful not to jostle his injured leg.

“Napkin,” Gator said, and you pointed with your good arm, because you still remembered where you’d seen it. “Fuckin’ crack shot, huh?”

You laughed, despite yourself. “Something like that.”

And after you’d found park and plates in quick succession, Gator shifted the book a little bit away from you.

“Yer too good at this,” he said. “I ain’t even gettin’ a chance t’look myself.”

You paused. “Is this a race?”

He paused too. “Yeah. Think it is.”

“Well you have to let me see it, then,” you said, unable to lean too close to him, your right arm already stiff and sore from being in the sling.

“You seen it enough,” Gator said. “Plus, yer too good, I should get a lil’ advantage.”

“You mean you should get to cheat,” you replied.

Gator turned to you, grinning all smug, and nodded. “Real glad we see eye t’eye on that. ‘Preciate it.” You watched as he circled the next word, which you could barely read due to the angle at which he was holding the book.

“You’re such a dick,” you said, and you just saw his cheek round up even more, his smile widening as he crossed the word off the bottom of the list.

“My dick is one’a the most notable things about me,” Gator said, and you were so used to his crass comments by now that you just sighed in exasperation and rolled your eyes, even though he couldn’t see you.

“Just let me see the puzzle,” you said, shifting so that you were kneeling beside him on the bed, since you couldn’t lean into him with your arm as tender as it was. You leaned over him, taking extreme care not to actually let any part of your body touch his, and reached over with your left hand to try and grab the book. “We can do it together, just let me hold the book. You can keep the pencil.”

Gator switched the book to his right hand, holding it out of your reach before you even got close. “You wanna do it wi’me? Damn, ‘n I thought you were different. But I like ‘em a little mean sometimes.”

“You are such a—” you started to say, but stopped yourself, trying to think of a name to call him that he wouldn’t be able to turn into something sexual or make suggestive. And as you cycled through your choices, his smirk only grew, until he had bent his good leg at the knee, resting his elbow on it and balancing his chin on his hand, watching you with a bemused expression while your mind whirled through the various insults you knew. “Manchild.”

Gator guffawed at that, and you really had to work to suppress your own smile, moving back to sit beside him normally, no longer wanting to play his stupid games.

“First time I heard that one,” Gator said, moving to hold the puzzle book between the two of you, half on your lap, half on his.

“Color me shocked,” you snapped back, but there was no venom in it. “I would’ve guessed that was, like, your middle name.”

“So then what’s yers?” Gator asked. “Smartass?”

“Surprisingly, yes,” you said, and this time, when he laughed, you did too. You hadn’t ever wanted to cross paths with this guy, but being stuck in this room with him—willingly sharing space with him, so close your injured arm and his injured leg were almost brushing against each other—it wasn’t turning out to be the worst part of your night. That, amazingly, was still your shoulder. It wasn’t like you’d let him know he was making things bearable and the time pass quickly. You could keep your gratitude unspoken. And you would.

“You lookin’ or what?” Gator asked, shaking the book a little, and you looked over at him to find him staring at the side of your face, tapping the book with the pencil’s eraser. “I already fuckin found sandwich but I don’t wanna circle it if yer gonna chew me the fuck out about it.”

“Sandwich,” you said, letting your eyes rove over the puzzle. “There.” You pointed and he drew an elongated oval around the letters.

“Very good,” he said, condescendingly.

But instead of rising to it, you just decided to show him up. There were four words left: spring, tablecloth, wasps, and watermelon. You’d already found them—but sandwich had needed to be circled first—so you simply tapped the page in four spots, in order.

“There you go,” you said, repeating the taps so he knew you weren’t bullshitting and had found the remaining four words. “So, what do I win?”

“Win,” Gator repeated, circling each of the four words, then crossing them off the list. He stuck the pencil in the book and closed it. “Fuck makes you think you won somethin’?”

“You said it was a race,” you said. “I found the words faster than you. That means I get a prize.”

“Fuck kinda prize you think this place got? Hold on, lemme page the nurse ‘nd see if I can score ya some ice chips.”

You laughed, a true, hearty laugh, eyes closed and giggles bubbling bright out of your chest, and when you opened your eyes again and let your gaze fall on Gator, you didn’t miss the way he was looking at you, expression soft for the briefest moment, until he remembered himself, remembered who and what he was supposed to be under observation—a Tillman—and let the scowl creep back onto his features. A little too late; you wondered if he ever showed this part of himself to anyone else. Not that you were special—you knew you weren’t, not to Gator Tillman—but here he wasn’t supposed to be anyone, wasn’t beholden to his father or the department. He was just a guy waiting for stitches, messing around with a puzzle book and the woman they’d dumped on him by chance.

“So,” Gator said, clearing his throat a little as though he’d just realized now how close you were to him. “Ya wanna try ta explain how the hell ya dislocated yer arm mid-fuck?”

You sighed. “We weren’t actually… doing anything yet,” you said. “He was kinda—so he was behind me, and he had my arms behind my back.” You gestured, but Gator watched you, a half-smirk playing at his lips, one eyebrow quirked up. “He was holding them behind me, you know.”

“Yeah, I’m followin’,” Gator said, suppressing a grin.

“And I guess he just—I kinda… Twisted the wrong way from how he was moving, and next thing I knew I couldn’t really move my arm. It didn’t hurt that much when it popped out, but moving it back in front of me was really bad. And then add the emotional damage of him having to put my clothes back on...” You grimaced at Gator. “Maybe I lucked out that he just left me here.”

“Prob’ly,” Gator said, lifting his hand to bite at one of his cuticles, though he lowered his hand when you scrunched up your nose at him. “Nah, I’m just sayin’—guy like that ain’t gonna see shit through after he hurts ya? Scumbag.”

You blinked, shaking your head a little in disbelief. “What?” you asked, probably somewhat dumbly, because you hadn’t thought Gator could feel sympathy for the fairer sex.

“Guy fuckin’ dislocates yer damn arm and can’t even stick witcha at least through triage? That’s some lame ass shit.” He glanced over at you and realized you were looking at him like he had six heads. “What, you think I wouldn’t?”

“I mean—everything I’ve ever heard about you points to no, you wouldn’t.”

Gator cocked his head to the side. “‘Nd why’s that?”

You shrugged your good shoulder, but the movement still made you flinch a little. As though it were his fault, Gator moved away from you, like he’d nudged your arm and that was what made you shudder in pain.

“You’re not a… long haul kind of guy,” you said. “Or so I’ve heard.”

“Mm,” Gator hummed, then sucked his teeth. “Gotta say, this whole ‘you knowin’ of me’ thing fuckin’ sucks.”

“Sorry,” you said.

“No you ain’t,” Gator said, but he chuckled a little, darkly, unamused. “You came in here thinkin’ you knew all there was t’know about me and yer still just sayin’ it. Well, if your opinion holds so much weight like ya think I think it does, maybe try watchin’ yer mouth.” He looks over at you. “Or I’ll give ya somethin’ better t’do with it.”

You moved yourself a bit away from him to sit on the edge of the mattress, letting your left leg drape off of it, toes to the floor. “Ok, fair point. I don’t even know you, I shouldn’t judge you.” You looked over at him out of the corner of your eyes, assessing. You decided to be honest and press your luck. “You just don’t exactly give off the most… comforting aura.”

Gator turned to look blankly at you, his expression slowly morphing into disgust. “Don’t say shit like that t’me,” he said, then laughed. “I ain’t tryna be no one’s friend out here. I can’t be seen as… comforting. I’m the law.”

“Oh my god, you really say that? You really say that. I didn’t think—”

“I really say what?” he interrupted you.

You dropped your voice to match his. “‘I’m the law.’ You’re a real piece of work, you know that? ‘I’m the law,’ get the hell out of here.” You laughed and reached across your body with your left hand to shove at his left arm, playful and teasing.

“I don’t know why you think yer so cool, Miss Can’t-Even-Fuck-Right,” Gator said. “Promise ya if y’were with me, you wouldn’t’a dislocated nothin’. ‘Cept maybe yer—”

“Let me guess, my jaw?” you asked. “Because your dick’s so big? I get it, you’re packing. Can we move on?” But you were smiling. Despite yourself, despite his demeanor, you were starting to find the moments in between when he dropped the act actually… charming. Something else you’d keep to yourself, because if he found out you were actually enjoying his company, he’d be even more insufferable.

“Nah,” Gator said, stretching out his injured leg, wincing a little as he did. Surreptitiously, he lifted the hospital gown again, checking the gauze taped to his thigh. The little red sliver you’d seen before was just a touch wider, the wound still oozing. He covered it again quickly, but you’d still seen. “Got m’self.”

You almost didn’t register that he’d spoken, because it didn’t sound like he’d actually said words. “What?”

“With the boxcutter.” He cleared his throat. “I got m’self.”

“You—” you started to say, but stopped yourself. “Oh, my god.”

“Was a fuckin’ accident, a’right?” he said, huffy. “Breakin’ down some shit at the station, lost m’grip on the box, next thing ya know I’m bleedin’ like a stuck pig.”

“That’s so embarrassing for you,” you said, and Gator lifted his left hand, flipping you off. You laughed, but were pleased to see he was smirking too.

“Ain’t no more embarrassing than twistin’ yer arm out of its socket when yer just tryna get it in.”

You nodded your head to the side, conceding the point. “Fair enough.” You paused. “Why… did you tell me that?” you asked.

Gator shrugged. “You told me ‘bout yours. Figure we’re even now.”

“We needed to be even?” you asked.

“Yeah, why not,” Gator said. “Yer cool.”

If it had been five minutes earlier, you’d have ribbed him for that, given him shit for it. But it had happened at exactly the right moment—you felt decent enough even though your shoulder still hurt, and he seemed to have loosened up enough that he could be real, or at least as real as a Tillman could be in these parts.

“You might be cool too,” you said, pulling your leg back up onto the bed, pushing yourself up closer beside him, your knees pressing into his hip as you tried to face him—and then promptly fell sideways into the upright part of the bed because your right arm was in a sling and you had no way to prop yourself up.

“I take it back,” Gator said, absolutely losing his shit at your awkward faceplant, your dislocated arm held in place by the sling. “Nothin’ fuckin’ cool aboutcha, my god, woman.” He reached back to help you up, wrapping his arm around you and holding you securely to his side. “Y’ok?”

When he asked it, his voice was quieter, lighter, brushing against your cheek like the touch of a lover, of someone who cared about you, even though he couldn’t and he didn’t.

“I’m fine,” you said, your cheek burning not only from the impact on the hospital mattress but also embarrassment. You glanced over at him, and noticed: He was a lot closer than you realized, even as he retracted his arm, which was dumb as hell, because you were practically sitting on his lap, and just might be if not for his cut leg and your immobile arm.

“That’s one word fer it,” Gator said, his hand moving over your knee, up your thigh, just enough for you to feel affected by it.

And you shouldn’t. This was Gator Tillman, fundamentally one of the worst people you could get involved with, and yet aside from some locker room talk and all of the rumors and conjecture you’d gathered from living in his vicinity, he hadn’t done anything to truly turn you off. It was the push and pull of flirting with a guy, the little barbs and pokes that made something new into something fun, something brimming with potential. So when his hand skimmed a little further up your thigh, you leaned in and just barely let your lips brush over his.

He kissed you back. Of course he did. You figured he was going to, because you were there and you were making it easy, but what you didn’t count on was how he would do it. With his fingers pressing just enough into your thigh that you could feel it, with his nose bumping against yours as he tilted his head the slightest bit to the side, with his lips closing around your cupid’s bow, keeping it simple and sweet before he pulled back. It was the perfect kind of kiss for the moment, and you never would have expected Gator to read the mood like that. You were starting to think you’d been wrong about him, or maybe everyone else had.

Just as you opened your mouth to speak, the door to the room opened and the orderly marched back in, stopping short when he saw you perched on Gator’s bed. You felt his hand move off of your thigh and instead to your lower back, holding you steady as you hurriedly stood up from the bed.

“Careful,” he muttered, as you slid your legs down over the lowered railing.

“Mr. Tillman,” the orderly said.

“Deputy,” Gator corrected him, and you smirked as you took your seat again.

“Deputy,” the orderly continued. “The doctor is about ready to see you, and since you have a… roommate, we’ll be bringing you to one of the exam rooms for the stitches.” You were wheeled over to the side, while the orderly unlocked the wheels of Gator’s bed and pushed him out of the room.

“See ya,” you said, lifting your good arm to wave.

Gator nodded his chin toward you as he passed by. “Ya just might.”

Except when he was brought back to the room to wait for his discharge paperwork, you were gone.

He tried to distract himself. Amanda on Monday. Mary on Tuesday. Both futile. He felt disgusted with himself, guilty in a way that didn't make logical sense. You two weren't together, had never been together. But the guilt sat in his chest regardless, heavy and persistent and— fuck.

Another secret he's been carrying for two months: he's been faking it with everyone else.

He slips the condom off before they can notice, drops it at the bottom of the bathroom trash, and waits in there until he's sure they've left. He never finishes himself off afterward. He knows the only way he can is if he thinks about you, and that knowledge sits in him like something radioactive. It’s too dangerous to acknowledge directly and too present to ignore.

He can’t sleep. He tosses and turns, wondering what you’re doing, if you’re in your dorm with Robin or if that meathead is feeling you up— nope. He can’t be jealous. It’s not fair to you if he’s jealous of you messing around with other people too. Even if it’s a fucking Alpha Tau. 

He doesn’t know what is wrong with him. 

On Wednesday you were walking out of the library when he caught sight of you, and his entire body responded before his brain could intervene. You looked so pretty in the moonlight. He watched you laugh when you caught his eyes, your breath a small cloud in the cold air, warm and there and real. Your hand squeezed his arm when he held the door open, and then your mouth was on his neck and his hands were moving under your blouse— butter yellow, soft against his palms, genuinely so pretty on you. It drove him mad.

He always hated when the other girls left marks on him. But yours were different. Yours he'd flaunt, wearing shirts that wouldn't cover them, pretending in some parallel life that he was allowed to show off that he was yours. People assumed it was Robin. He let them assume.

Neither of you had the patience to undress properly. He'd hiked your skirt up, your legs hooking around his waist, pulling him deeper. His chain had swung against your collarbone with each thrust. His jeans bunched at his thighs. Both of you loud and breathless, the car rocking with the rhythm of it, your skin against his a sound he'd been replaying ever since.

He'd looked down at you— eyes clenched, fingers digging into his shoulders, neck arched— and dragged his tongue up the column of your throat. When he spat into your mouth and watched you swallow, the moan that tore out of him was completely beyond his control.

Sex had always come easily to him. But with you there's a challenge he keeps wanting to solve. He loves being the reason for your sounds, loves finding the specific combination of things that makes you cry out, loves the places in you that he finds and you didn't know existed. He loves how he fits inside you, the way you stretch and clench around him perfectly. He thinks about what it would feel like without a condom— like the first time. He thinks about it too often.

With you he doesn't hold back. He never has to muffle himself or perform. He just is. And that, more than anything else, is the thing that terrifies him.

He knows what anyone would tell him if he described this out loud. End it with the others. Or if he can't do that: think of you when he's with them. He's tried the second option. He's ashamed to admit it, more ashamed to admit what happens when he does.

He doesn't think of you in those moments. His mind doesn't go to anything compromising. It goes, instead, to conversations. The way you make him laugh. The particular sharpness of your wit, the patience you extend to Robin and— somehow, inexplicably— to him. More patience than he deserves and you both know it.

He thinks about how people are drawn to you and you have no idea. How they gravitate toward you at parties, on the sidewalk, in line at the library, and you move through it all like it's ordinary. He thinks about the line between your brows when you're irritable, and how badly he wants to press his thumb there and smooth it out. He thinks about how when you get mean, you're ferocious— certain and passionate and immovable— and how hours later you always go back and apologize to whoever it was. You always know what to say. He has never once known what to say.

Thursday, he tried to write off everything as stress and a bad week. This time of year is always hard for him. Nightmares. Headaches. The insomnia that arrives like a seasonal houseguest who doesn't know when to leave. He guesses he can add ejaculation issues to the list too.The anniversary of the accident, seeps in, coloring everything gray, his scars aching before his brain has caught up to what day it is.

He'd skipped his classes and gone out once for air. He told himself it was coincidental that he wandered toward the building where your class meets. That he hadn't, over the course of the past several weeks, memorized the rough shape of your schedule. That he didn't sometimes take routes that would put you at the edges of his vision, even from a distance.

Purely coincidental.

He wasn't even sure he'd say anything if he saw you. He could ask if you wanted to get lunch, take a walk— two friends, only two friends, who happened to be sleeping together. He ignored the small sharp pain in his chest at the phrasing.

When he rounded the corner and found you kissing Sammy, the guy's hands on you and yours on him, Steve stopped walking. He stood there for five full seconds. Then he turned around and went back to Pike.

He'd like to say he did the honorable thing after that. Moved on, let it go, focused on something else. He can't stop thinking about it. It's his own rule— the one he made, the one that's supposed to protect both of them— and it's eating him alive.

Which is why he snapped at Robin when she started in about Nancy. He knows it's different for them. He does. But a selfish, rotting part of him was jealous— not that he'd ever say so— jealous that at least she got to be with someone she loved without everything being underwater. He felt guilty about it almost immediately. It wasn't that he wasn't happy for them. He was. He is.

He's also drowning.

He didn't even register you asking to come in when you appeared in his doorway later. He was too busy being struck dumb by the sight of you— hair up, pink sweater he loves tucked into your light wash jeans, fresh manicure you'd probably done in your dorm with Robin. He watched you cross the room and felt his chest do that thing it does. Tighten first. Then soften, like something rigid giving way.

You touched his knee. You gave him the look that meant it was okay.

He felt safe. He always feels safe, and that is the most dangerous thing about you.

His rules dissolved and he put his head in your lap because it was the only context in which he was allowed to do that. He went limp and hoped you couldn't see his eyes going wet. He breathed you in— clean laundry, something faint and warm underneath, the specific scent he's started associating with a future he wants and can't have. He asked you to talk about your day because he could sit for hours inside the sound of your voice. You made the mundane parts of your life sound like somewhere he wanted to be.

Broken, he told you. He feels broken. He didn't tell you he wasn't sure how to fix it. Or that he suspected he knew exactly how, and was terrified of what it would cost.

After you left, the thought of you kissing Sammy returned and wouldn't stop. It moved through him in different frequencies. He wondered what your lips would feel like against his— not his neck, not the geography of his shoulders and chest, but his mouth. He wondered if the rhythm would be the same as everything else between you, that strange melodic fit, the way your bodies always seemed to find the same tempo without trying.

On the night of Mardi Tau, he'd told Robin three times he wasn't going. He couldn't. Couldn't watch you across a crowded room, couldn't watch you dance with Sammy, couldn't see your mouth on someone else's again and pretend the sight wasn't carving something out of him.

He watched from his window when your car pulled up and Eddie climbed in. It was dark outside andhe couldn't see you. His heart thumped anyway.

The car pulled away.

His heart sank.

It should be him.

.-.-.-.

Katrina was always a sweet girl. Her hair was a bit much sometimes— reminded him of when Tammy Thompson got her first perm and he couldn't see the board in Mrs. Click's class until he finally moved seats. 

But she didn't deserve tonight.

Everything was going well. He did everything he normally did, and by her sounds, Katrina was enjoying herself. All while his mind kept drifting to Sig Tau. To you. His heart racing because the rumors had been circulating through Greek life all week— that Sammy really likes you. 

It was all dirty touches and heat between them until he got Katrina over the edge.

But when it was his turn and she went to touch him— nothing.

He laughed it off awkwardly and told her to give him a second, spitting in his hand, trying to coax any reaction from his body. The redness crept up the back of his neck and deepened in his cheeks, not from the sex but from something worse. He kept trying. But even looking at Katrina sprawled naked on his bed, cheeks flushed, watching him with patient eyes, he still couldn't think properly.

He kept thinking about what an asshole he was. What an utter prick, to be here with a nice girl who deserved better than this. All because he couldn't fucking admit what he'd been running from all this time.

His shoulders drooped. He deflated.

"Oh my god," Katrina whispered.

Steve opened his mouth, a lump rising in his throat. "I—" Nothing came. No excuse worth saying out loud. "It's not you. I swear—"

"Oh my fucking god." She stood up from his bed. He could tell she wasn't happy by the way she moved— quick and stiff, snatching up her clothes. He saw the tears rolling down her face before she turned away.

"Katrina—"

"I am missing the biggest party of the year for this," she said, voice unraveling as she pulled her shirt over her head.

Steve stood there, still holding his limp dick, unsure whether he should wait until she left. He didn't know the proper etiquette for this situation. He'd never had anyone leave in the middle of a hookup before. Never because he couldn't get hard. He rubbed his face with one hand, trying to think.

"I'm sorry. I'm really stressed out—"

She turned around, lip quivering. "This," she hissed, motioning between them, "is what's supposed to relieve you of stress."

Steve picked up his boxers and slipped them on, feeling her watch him. Then his jeans. He looked at the floor, then up into her eyes, hoping and praying her memory of the last half hour might somehow evaporate.

It was in that humiliating moment he realized it wasn't only hating the fact you were with someone else tonight. He was too. Even though his hookups with other girls had become rare. Even with the lie he'd told you from the start— that he had a once-a-week rule— it still sent pain radiating through his chest, the particular kind that comes from knowing you're doing something wrong.

"I don't think we should keep seeing each other," he said, trailing off because he was a coward.

Katrina ticked her jaw. She sniffled once, sharply, through the hurt. He watched her shrink into herself, arms crossing over her chest, trying to make sense of something that didn't make any sense. She didn't have feelings for him— he knew that. But he could almost see the trust between them severing, clean and quiet as a cut. Without another word she picked up her handbag and walked out.

He wished he were man enough to sit with it or run after her to tell her… anything that would make her feel better. To feel the full weight of hurting someone he hadn't meant to hurt. To reckon with the ways his selfishness was splitting him apart from the inside.

Instead he got dressed quickly and put on his glasses. He needed to see you.

Not needed. Wanted. Both. He couldn't untangle them anymore.

His adrenaline was high and he ignored the beaming DON'T DO IT sign glowing right in front of him. Rules be damned. There were never really rules with you to begin with.

He smoked two cigarettes on the walk to Sig Tau without realizing it, and hadn't noticed he'd arrived until he was already pushing through the crowd outside and through the doors. He stood in the middle of the main gathering space, chest heaving, eyes scanning the room.

The scary thing was he always knew when you were there before he found you. Some magnetic pull in his chest that swung toward you like a compass finding north— maybe it was your perfume, the one you only wore when you went out. He found you before his brain caught up to the fact that he was looking.

You were alone. Relief moved through him so fast it embarrassed him.

Except you were scanning the room the same way he had been, searching for someone— Sammy, probably. Then you stopped. Hair framing your face, lip gloss catching the colored lights. He watched your expression shift. Watched your lips flicker upward. You looked exactly as relieved to see him as he felt seeing you.

He crossed the room toward you, taking you in the whole way. Gold crop top. Your purple skirt and white pumps. The line of your collarbone. But he kept returning to your eyes. He drowned in them every time and he did it willingly, like a man who had made peace with the water.

You were the most beautiful person he'd ever met. It drove him absolutely crazy.

He was so close but he needed more, and if there weren't people watching he'd have pulled you into him right there. Instead he motioned toward the bathroom tucked out of the way, the one nobody else seemed to know about.

He pulled you inside and crowded you against the counter.

"Touch me," he said. The words came out wrecked. A plea, not a request.

You started to say something and he shook his head. He said please. Said it again. Please.

And you did. You touched him exactly where he knew you'd touch him first, and he twitched and let out a breath that was equal parts relief and pleasure. His skin knew you. Reacted to you the way muscle reacts to memory— without instruction, without hesitation. He whimpered when your fingers traced along his scars and brushed through the trail of hair on his stomach.

He pressed his hips against you involuntarily. Already hard against your bare thigh.

Both of you were asking for more without saying it. You pulled his hand and pressed it against the damp cotton of your panties. His knees buckled, his weight nearly crushing you as he started working slow circles against your clit. His mouth found your cheek, breath short and ragged.

Then you were up on the counter and he was fucking you with his fingers, his cock aching against his zipper, completely engulfed in your wetness and the sounds falling from your mouth. You clutched at him. He still wasn't close enough. It wasn't enough anymore. It hadn't been enough for a long time.

He worked faster, stretching you with another finger, curling to find that spot that made your whole body shift. He could feel you shaking. He could hear the pitch of your whimpers climbing.

He rutted against your leg, moaning into your neck, until you made a sound he'd never heard from you before. He pulled back to look at you— half-lidded, mouth open— and his eyes dropped to your lips. Parted and pretty, lip gloss still sticky.

Before he could think longer he grabbed you by the head, fingers fisting your hair, and kissed you.

Then froze immediately.

"Fuck. I'm sorry. I'm sorry—"

You smirked at him. Hunger in your eyes. One finger hooked into his chain necklace, pulling him back.

Your lips crashed against his.

He grunted when you bucked your hips, grinding on his hand still inside you. The kiss was messy and filthy and open-mouthed and unforgiving, and it rearranged everything inside him. His skin felt like it was burning, the heat moving straight to his cock. But underneath all of it— underneath the want and the noise and the desperate friction— his heart was beating against his ribs in a rhythm he recognized from somewhere he'd been trying not to visit.

He couldn't ignore it this time. Didn't want to.

All he wanted to do was smile. Because he was kissing his girl. His Hot Shot. Finally.

He felt you getting close and threw himself into it— fingers moving faster, palm pressing harder. His tongue licked into your mouth because if this was the only time he got to do this, he refused to forget what you tasted like. Sweet and warm and everything kissing was supposed to feel like and never had before. Feeling you kiss him back with the same urgency, the same hunger, he whined against your lips.

You nipped his bottom lip between your teeth and let it go.

In the fraction of a second it took, he thought about your first time together. How he'd wanted to kiss you then. How he'd wanted to kiss you every single time since. He thought about how swollen your lips were now— wet from him, undone.

That was all it took. He came, pressing against your leg, letting you feel it. Letting you know it was all you.

But he doesn't stop kissing you.

Can't.

And the thing is— he knows, standing here with his hand leaving your thighs and both arms pulling you in instead— that this has nothing to do with sex anymore. It stopped being about sex somewhere between the first time your mouth found his and right now, in this dim bathroom at a party neither of you particularly wanted to attend. What he wants is not the thing bodies want. It's something older and quieter and much more frightening.

He wants to keep kissing you in the morning. He wants to know what you look like when you're half-asleep and grumpy. He wants to sit across a table from you and argue about something stupid and be wrong and have you tell him so. He doesn’t want to say goodnight, because then that means leaving. And he’s so tired of leaving.

Your fingers tighten in his hair, pulling hard enough to sting, and the groan that comes out of him is helpless. It’s not because of the pain but because of the wanting underneath it, the sheer volume of it. He wraps both arms around you, one hand wide and flat across your lower back, the other cradling the back of your head, and he holds on.

You clutch at him with the same desperation and something in him cracks open. He moves his mouth to your jaw, your throat, pressing kisses into the warm skin there. He needs to touch every part of you he can reach, needs you to know he's here, he's here, he's been here this whole time.

His hands won't stop moving. One slides up your side, thumb grazing the underside of your tit through your top, and the other grips your hip hard enough to mark. He's not sorry. He wants to mark you. He wants there to be proof.

You pull his face back to yours and he comes back willingly and gratefully. If he's honest, every second his mouth isn't on yours feels like something wasted now. The kiss shifts, messier, all tongue and teeth and two people running out of ways to say something neither of them has said yet.

You slide your hands under his shirt, palms flat against his stomach, and every muscle in his body contracts under the touch. Your nails drag up his sides and across his ribs and he shudders. It’s not even from sensation but from the specific tenderness of being known. You know exactly where to touch him. You've always known.

He pulls you impossibly closer, hands roaming across your bare back, until there's no space left between you. Chest to chest. He can feel your heartbeat against his own and he doesn't know which is which. Doesn't care.

He kisses you slower this time. Still wanting, still urgent, but slower. His tongue slides against yours and he thinks: this is the problem. This has always been the problem. There is no casual version of this. There never was.

Your fingers find his belt loops and pull his hips flush against yours. He can feel the wet warmth in his jeans against your inner thigh. He makes a sound into your mouth. It’s broken and wanting and almost pained, like something has been held under pressure for a very long time and is only now, in increments, being allowed to surface.

He brings his hand up to cup your face. His thumb strokes your cheekbone with a tenderness he has no business feeling, and he knows it, and he does it anyway. You tilt your head and deepen the kiss and he thinks: I would do anything. I would blow up every rule I've ever made. I would stop being careful entirely.

The kisses slow. Gentle now. Each one landing separately, softly. Just lips resting against lips. Just breathing the same air. Just staying.

He draws your bottom lip carefully between his teeth one last time. His tongue soothing the place, and then he pulls back.

Steps away.

He looks at the floor. Then at you.

Something moves across his face that he can't stop in time. Something guilty and sad and full of all the things he hasn't said and should have, all the moments he's walked away from and chosen rules and Robin over this, over you.

He opens the bathroom door.

He leaves.

The click of the latch behind him sounds, in the silence that follows, like the loneliest thing he's ever heard.

.-.-.-.

Steve walked into the empty Pike house and the silence swallowed him whole.

His eyes were still blown wide, hair wrecked, clothes wrinkled and askew— every detail of him a confession he hadn't meant to make or even think. He trudged inside and let out a heavy breath, both hands dragging down his face like he could physically rearrange what had happened tonight into something he could live with.

He knew he'd fucked up. The only thing he could do to avoid thinking about it was sleep, which meant he was going to lie awake staring at the ceiling and think about nothing else.

He made it to his room and threw himself backward onto his bed, depleted and spent. His fingers drifted to his lips without him meaning for them to— still buzzing faintly, still warm from where your mouth had been.

A smile crept onto his face before he could stop it.

Then, as fast as it arrived… gone.

His phone rang.

He launched himself off the bed. He looked at his watch and wondered who the hell was calling at this hour. Eddie? Robin? His heart lurched sideways at the thought that it might be you. Could it be you calling to come over, to talk, to say something that would either fix everything or make it completely irreparable?

He picked up. "Hello?"

"Steveee," a voice slurred.

Steve pulled the receiver away from his ear, stared at it, put it back. "Uh..."

"Were you asleep?"

His eyes went wide. "Max? Why are you calling this late? Are you okay?"

"Stevee, I'm more than okaaay." She hiccupped.

"Are you drunk?" His voice came out protective before he could temper it. He knew he'd gotten into things he shouldn't have at her age, but he was an idiot. Max was not. He bit at the skin around his thumbnail. "Are you safe?"

"I'm at Wheeler's." The line crackled and her voice dropped to a hushed whisper. "We got into a bottle of Mrs. Wheeler's wine playing truth or dare."

Steve laughed, the coiled tension in his chest easing slightly. "Right, and are you doing a dare right now?"

"Yuuuup," Max sang.

"What is it? You supposed to prank call me or something?"

"Nope. Got dared to tell someone I love them. Dustin, the shithead he is, wanted me to probably say it to Lucas in front of everyone, because apparently I kind of suck at telling people that shit..."

Max's words drifted off.

Steve went completely still. He replayed the sentence. Made sure he'd heard it correctly. Because it was true—Max had never said that to him. Not once. Not directly. Not without enough sarcasm layered on top to make it deniable.

"Steveee, oh my god, did you die over there? Hellloooo?"

"Yeah." He swallowed hard. "I'm here. Sorry."

"Oh god, don't tell me it cut out and I have to say it again," she groaned.

He smiled at the ceiling, something loosening in his chest. "No. I heard you."

A beat of silence.

"I love you too, kid."

Max made an immediate and theatrical gagging noise. But he could still hear her smiling on the other end. "Gross, dude. You didn't have to say it back."

The quiet that followed wasn't really quiet at all. It was the specific kind of silence that exists between two people who both meant exactly what they said and know the other one did too.

"Now it's my turn to dare you to do it," Max giggled.

He rolled his eyes. "That's not how the game works and you know it."

"Maybeee. Or maybee you're scared."

"Max—"

"Steveeee," she mocked.

"I'm going to hang up now. Go be a pain to Wheeler or something." He shook his head when he heard her cackling.

She went quiet for a moment. Then: "You never called this week."

His throat went dry. He sighed, picking up the base of the phone and moving to sit at the edge of his bed. She couldn't see him, but he looked down anyway. "Yeah. I know. I got busy. I'm sorry."

Another wave of silence settled between them— the weighted kind, the kind that carries whole seasons inside it.

Steve raked his fingers through his hair.

"I don't miss him, y'know?" Max mumbled, her words soft and slurred but perfectly clear.

"Max—"

"And I know you still feel guilty, and we haven't really talked about it. But I needed you to know that."

She was right. They hadn't talked about the accident. That was probably mostly his fault—he never wanted to drag her back into bad water. He wasn't sure what to say.

"Drink water before bed. Okay?"

"Steve." His name was soft on the receiver, careful with him in a way she rarely was out loud.

"Yeah?"

"I dare you to tell me if you love her."

"Robin? Of course I love her, you know it's not like that thou—"

"No, not Robin." Max said your name.

It moved through the phone line and landed somewhere behind his sternum.

He froze. His face fell. Something cold and certain moved through his blood all at once. "Max, you know that's—I can't—why would you—she's a friend. A friend, okay?"

"Do you?" she asked again. Steady and almost sober-minded. Almost like she already knew the answer long before he ever did.

And Steve felt all the weeks of careful avoidance collapse at once.

He thought about you. He let himself, fully, for the first time in months— didn't redirect the thought, didn't shut the door on it before it could open. He let it open.

It wasn’t like a lightbulb, or a lightning bolt striking him. That was the thing about it that undid him. It didn't arrive the way he'd always assumed love would arrive. He had always imagine it to be loud and obvious and impossible to miss. It had crept in the way warmth does in a room you've been sitting in for a long time. Slow. Pervasive. Already everywhere before you think to notice.

The specific moment for him was all on Valentine’s when he saw you lying on his chest fast asleep. It overwhelmed him. It excited him. He knew it then, there was no one else. But he stayed in denial, tormented by thoughts of what it’d be like to go steady with you.

It felt like something that had always been true and was only now, under the specific pressure of Max saying your name through a crackling phone line at midnight, being acknowledged.

He carried it the way you carry an injury you've decided not to mention— working around it, adjusting your movement, telling yourself it wasn't that bad. But it had been pressing into him constantly. Heavy and specific and shaped like everything about you: the way you looked at him when he wasn't performing anything, the particular patience you extended to him that he hadn't earned, the sound of your laugh when something caught you off guard, the way the room organized itself differently when you were in it.

It felt like something that was equally killing him inside but also the thing that was keeping him alive. 

He wanted things he hadn't let himself want in years. Simple things. Quiet things. He wanted to call you for no reason. He wanted to make you breakfast. He wanted, god help him, to introduce you to people and have a word for what you were to him that was true.

Instead he had rules. He had arrangements. He had you hidden away in a bathroom, holding a kiss that rearranged everything and a door he'd closed behind him anyway.

The wanting sat inside him like a lit match in a closed room. It illuminated everything, consuming itself, running out of air.

"Yeah," he whispered. "I do."

The words landed in the quiet of his empty room and he didn't take them back.

When he finally got off the phone and lay down in the dark, Steve stared at the ceiling and wondered if this was what it was like in every version of things. Every alternate arrangement of choices and timing and circumstance– did they all wind up here? Something in him said yes. Something in him had been saying yes for a while now, quietly, in a register he'd been working very hard not to hear.

No matter what he built around it. No matter how many rules he made or broke or pretended still applied. No matter the timing, no matter the cost.

It was you.

It had probably always been you.

You were worth falling in love for.

Liked by jjacob.elordi, oliviarodrigo, djotime, and 5.9M others yourusername like i said, i try to be the chill girl but honestly i'm not

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oliviarodrigo my favorite singer songwriter and ghostwriter

yourusername my favorite everything

lilymhe so beautiful !!

yourusername no that's you !!

sadiesink_ love ❤️ Liked by creator

calebmclaughlin why are you never just in new york

yourusername duty calls

user9 hi so why are both jacob elordi AND djo in the likes

user77 y/n has been shit stirring i can tell

user0 shes so effortlessly cool it actually flabbergasts me

Liked by yourusername, gatenmatarazzo, charlie.r.heaton, and 3.7M others djotime thank you msg, always a blast 👏

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gatenmatarazzo and you didnt think to tell me about this 🖕

djotime and you commented that on my couch on my wifi

charlie.r.heaton come back to england

djotime 🫡

user4 Y/N IN THE LIKES HALLELUJAH BICEPS IN THE POST HALLELUJAH LIFE IS GOOD HALLELUJAH

user67 y/n in the likes👀

user0 wait so how is she gonna write that heart wrenching album and then a week later be liking his slut posts 🧐

username19 please like those are my friends💔 user117 wait im crying how is this a slut post user8 you don't js post thirst traps when you're in the predicament he's in he might as well js do an only fans account atp like ok bitch we see you don't miss arm day bye user2 YEO THIS IS ACC FRYING ME THIS HAS TO BE Y/N'S BURNER ACCOUNT

Liked by oliviarodrigo, calebmclaughlin, djotime, and 7.6M others yourusername extra, extra, read all about it! i'm going on tour 🌟 presale is june 1st, general admission is june 5th for my 'philophobia' tour. be there or be square

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oliviarodrigo will be there!!

calebmclaughlin is there a best friends discount

sadiesink_ they grow up so fast 🥹

finnwolfhardofficial so hype

gatenmatarazzo you didnt think to tell me about this huge announcement before!!?!

mayahawke gosh im so proud of you and i will 100% be there

nattyice my giiiiirl

sabrinacarpenter yes!

devhynes so proud

user1 i never win these giveaways

user9 omg im so fucking excited

user0 YAYAYAYAAYAAY

user5 does anyone know who's opening for her?

user11 idk fs but a lot of people on twitter are speculating it's gonna be post animal which is the band djo was a part of which he later left for stranger things but he recently reunited with them. if this is true i wonder if she's inviting post animal ft djo or no😭👀

Liked by charlie.r.heaton, sadiesink_, nattyice, and 2.9M others djotime post production

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charlie.r.heaton extremely cool

nattyice can't wait to see the final result !!

gatenmatarazzo yo you're actually not real

djotime ???

calebmclaughlin when i fumble a bad bitch so i have to make myself busy to distract myself from it😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

gatenmatarazzo LMAOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO finnwolfhardofficial ouuu shiii he's gonna block you😭💔 djotime gtfo 😠 maya_hawke when you see bro getting cooked for an opinion you lowk agree with 👀 user12 BYEEEE user0 omfg im such a friendship cuck pls i love tbis

Liked by djotime, sarahmargaretqualley23, oliviarodrigo, and 7.7M others yourusername happy tour eve!! 💓

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oliviarodrigo i'm so excited

sadiesink_ that's my girl

stinkyjavi it's gonna be a blast 👏

bigsmatt had the best time prepping with you all!

user55 so y/n and joe don't follow each other but they js keep liking each others stuff.. oh ok fairs

user7 oh my god valentine

user3 Y/N GOING ON TOUR WITH POST ANIMAL THIS IS SO HAPPENING

user4 nOW WE JS HAVE TO SEE IF JOE IS A PART OF THAT

user00 wait. whos that on slide 3...

user1 i think i see something looking at me thru that window👀

Liked by djotime, bigsmatt, sadiesink_, and 7M others yourusername night 1 of my philophobia tour 🌟 thank you so so so much to each and every one of you for making this possible.

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djotime 👏👏👏

bigsmatt we're honored you let us open for you!!

stinkyjavi fantastic performance, as usual

b.i.g.s.h.r.i.m.p so proud of you 😄

sadiesink_ my best friend i love you sm you amaze me

yourusername i love you best friend

calebmclaughlin i knew you before you were famous remember that

finnwolfhardofficial yeah same👀 gatenmatarazzo psa she told us we weren't getting a friendship discount 🤬 she's only doing this for the money cancel her rn yourusername js a mess in my comments 🙄

oliviarodrigo i'm so serious this was truly one of the best performances i've ever witness

yourusername aaww livy you're the best

user2 omg bring me there bring me there bring me there

user0 OMG JOE WAS THERE AND PERFORMED!!! i went and omfg he played chateau too

user7 NO FUCKING WAY

Liked by user1, user5, user33, and 81,207 others celebgossip charlie heaton, finn wolfhard, maya hawke, joe keery (& sisters), natalia dyer, and caleb mclaughlin at y/n's show last night! gaten matarazzo and sadie sink were additionally there but they were not pictured

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user3 oh ok this is life changing

user9 and sisters?!!??!!?!?!??!?!

user4 oh he cleaned his act up with HASTE

user2 wait i'm crying i love them all sm and i love how they all love her sm 🙁

user9 this inspired me to text my ex ❤️

Liked by user0, user9, user5, and 99,871 others celebgossip y/n y/l/n and joe keery seen together after the first night of her tour! is it official they're back together? what do you guys think?

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user3 omfg im crying they wasted no time???????😭

user5 anyone considering texting their ex: pls do not, they are soulmates so they are the exception

user0 MOM AND DAD

user4 WAR IS OVER.

user2 OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD

Liked by djotime, badbunnypr, sabrinacarpenter, and 6.9M others yourusername night 2 🤍 thank you nyc for a great time, i couldn't imagine a better opener. i can't wait to see you in a week atlanta!

djotime wow

yourusername ew 🤮 user4 baby idk sources are saying you had your tongue in his mouth last night user9 @/user4 IM CTFU user0 @/user4 HELLOOOOO LEAVE MY GIRL ALONEE

sabrinacarpenter love you

gatenmatarazzo you're lowk talented

nattyice my favorite singer ever

Liked by spotify, sadiesink_, devhynes, and 7.1M others yourusername hihihi heres my new album philophobia i hope you guys like it 🌟

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spotify wow, ok, first thought... transcending the game

sadiesink_ WOW ok that was a whole lot im def not crying rn

devhynes loved producing this w/ you 👏

calebmclaughlin are you ok😭

gatenmatarazzo enough to bring a grown man to tears

oliviarodrigo oh my gosh everything you do is perfect ilysm

lilymhe oh my GOD, gonna go break up with my bf so i can experience this fully

alex_albon wait 🤔

user4 GODDDDDDDDD

user9 i know im parasocial idgaf i genuinely sobbing uncontrollably pls unrelease this album pls pls y/n pls.

user0 oh shit oh shit oh shit

user7 joe when WE catch you

Liked by user11, celeb_gossip_, user5, and 992,129 others yourlocalfangirl guys!!!!! i just met joe keery out in soho😭 crying real tears

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user11 OHMYGOD YOU LUCKY BITCH DID YOU ASK HIM ABOUT Y/N

yourlocalfangirl YES I DID i asked him if he heard her new album and he said yes and i asked me if i heard it and what i thought of it and i said i heard it and i loved it so much but it was so sad!! he like nodded (2nd pic) and said yes and he agrees 😭😭😭😭 user11 holy. shit.

user7 god i see what you've done for others

Liked by finnwolfhardofficial, oliviarodrigo, jjacob.elordi, and 7.1M others yourusername thank you jimmy for having me on tonight to perform my new song "casual"! it was an honor and i hoped you all enjoyed it 🌟

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fallontonight we all love you!! amazing performance as per usual

finnwolfhardofficial im not even joking this was truly magical yo

yourusername thank yew king

oliviarodrigo miss you girl

yourusername miss you more

user9 OH OK SO STAY OUT OF THE STUDIO BC THIS BROKE ME

user5 oh my GOD shes ethereal

user0 joe majorly fumbled holy fuq

user1 hi so is no one gonna talk about jacob fucking elordi in her likes or what

user22 nO I NOTICED THAT AND IM PEEPING IT

user4 did no one watch the performance??? all the comments are abt her looks or the guys which i get are a big part of this but her performance was genuinely one of the most heartbreaking things ever ❤️ Liked by creator

user7 THANK. YOU. oh my god i was transfixed the whole time and it was so beautiful and she sounded SO upset and everyone keeps reducing it to a guy (no shade to joe) user40 oh shiii she liked

Perhaps it was because you had always been a helper, and it felt good knowing that people were comfortable enough to come up to you and ask for such help.

But what you really loved about it was the outcome.

When the person you helped came to you afterwards and excitedly told you how they had aced their test, or how they had gotten a good mark on their assignment, it filled you with a quiet sense of pride. Not exactly for yourself, but for them. For their success, for their improvement. And because you had done that, you had helped them get to that success.

So naturally, you signed up to become an official tutor at the Hawkins High School Tutoring Centre.

It became apart of your routine. Staying after school to tutor someone, or having to come to their house to do so. Either way, you never really minded. All that really mattered was that you helped them not to dread class so much anymore, to help them to not have to scratch their head while looking at the work because they just didn't get it.

So of course, now in your sophomore year, you didn't mind when the coordinator of the centre informed you that a new person had been added to your roster. However, you didn't know who this person was because the arrangement had been last minute since the person's original tutor had been unable to do so, so he wasn't officially on your schedule yet. All that you knew was that he was a guy in the year above who had apparently been holding off getting tutored for a long time. This made you assume this guy was going to be a bit hard to work with, but you were always able to manage.

It had been thirty minutes since school ended when you sat in the library, waiting for this person to show up with your stationery already set out on the table. This person was already late, and should have already been at the table with you fifteen minutes ago.

You were thinking about the meatloaf you were going to have for dinner tonight when the doors of the library swung open, abruptly cutting off your thoughts and startling you. You looked up as the librarian glared at the culprit at the door, pressing a pointy finger to her lips.

And the culprit was the last person you expected to walk into a library of all places.

Steve Harrington.

As in Steve "The Hair" Harrington, also known as King Steve.

The kind of person who threw a raging party every Saturday, the kind of person who misbehaved in class because they knew there would be no real consequences, and the kind of person who would only ever be at school after hours for basketball practice.

So why the hell was Steve Harrington in the library of Hawkins High after school hours?

And why was he looking straight at you?

He didn't look happy by any means. He was obviously annoyed by whatever was plaguing him, and you grew nervous as he approached you while still wearing his irritated expression.

He came to a stop in front of your table, and you swallowed anxiously under his intimidating stare, starting to fiddle with the ends of your sleeves as a nervous habit.

"Are you Y/N L/N?" He asked flatly.

You blinked. "Yes. Can I help you?"

"You're supposed to apparently, you're my... tutor," said Steve, his face scrunching up as if the word physically hurt him.

Somehow, you had known from the second he had walked in with that look on his face, yet your stomach still dropped with dread when he said it.

You were happy to tutor anyone, but anyone didn't include Steve Harrington. It was something you had never worried about, because how were you supposed to assume that one day you would have to tutor King Steve out of all people?

You schooled your expression to the best of your abilities, and you recollected yourself as you nodded. "I see. Well... sit down, and we can get started."

You tried to say it kindly, but you immediately regretted doing so when he mumbled something grumpily under his breath as he reluctantly sat on the same table on you, pointedly choosing the seat furthest from you. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes, and you had a feeling that was an urge you would need to resist often.

You cursed the coordinator of the centre for setting up this arrangement. Clearly, this person didn't know anything about how you and Steve couldn't be any more different, because you truly were polar opposites.

While he played beer pong at house parties, you were studying. While he goofed off in class, you paid attention and completed all of your work. While he was at basketball practice, you were tutoring. While he always had a rowdy table at lunch, you had a quiet and calm one.

There was a spectrum, and you both sat at the opposite ends of it.

You just hoped you could swiftly help Steve pass a test so that it would be over as soon as possible.

***

After just one week, you could tell you were going to be tortured with tutoring Steve Harrington for a while.

To put it nicely, he... lacked concentration, and perhaps lacked a lot more. You really didn't think he was stupid, he just couldn't focus on what he needed to.

Only after two sessions, you had noticed that while you talked, he simply didn't listen and clearly didn't even try to. He always had a faraway look in his eyes, like he was thinking about the party he was throwing that weekend, or what he was having for dinner. Sometimes he was clearly present in the moment, he just still chose not to take in a single word of yours. One time, he started to balance a pencil on his nose while you were explaining the math equation he needed to solve, and it had taken him ten minutes to realise you had stopped talking.

He was already by far the most difficult person you had tutored, and so far, you were lost on how to get through to him.

You didn't even know how or why he was in the tutoring program. He had made it clear since day one that he didn't want to be tutored by you, and he hadn't once shown an ounce of effort in any of your sessions. Maybe he had gotten pressured by his parents, that wasn't an uncommon reason behind kids coming to the tutoring centre. But then you had heard rumours that his parents was always out of town and that's why he was always able to throw parties, so if they were never there, why would they pressure him to do such things?

You didn't know, and you didn't really want to. You had no interest in Steve Harrington's life, no matter how handsome or charming he was. He wasn't all that interesting.

Nevertheless, you were still being forced into his life one way or another, so much so that you ended up with plans to go to his house on Sunday.

It had been during the usual tutoring session tucked away in the corner of the library, you overviewing your notes for your own work while he was supposed to be reading the textbook laid out in front of him. Of course, he was instead staring out of the window longingly, like he wished to be outdoors instead of stuck inside with you.

"Do we always have to do this in the library?" He asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

You looked up, frowning. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, is it necessary to be in the library for all of this stuff?" He rephrased.

"Well... yeah. A library is the best place to study and get work done," you said, confused on why this wasn't obvious to him.

"Yeah, but... someone could walk in," he said quietly.

Oh, so that's what it was about. He didn't want someone to walk in and see him actually studying, something that was considered weird and nerdy for people like him. Or more specifically, he didn't want to be seen with you.

You sighed, and propped your chin on the palm of your hand. "Then where do you suggest we go if not a library?"

"I don't know, just like... not at school," said Steve, avoiding your gaze.

"Well, you could come to my house or I could come to yours. I've done that with other people when they weren't able to study at school either," you said.

He blinked. "You want me to come to your house?"

"Yeah, so I can tutor you. If that doesn't work, then we can go the public library or-"

"No, just..." he trailed off, seeming to consider it before sighing, running a hand through his hair that you couldn't help but look at. "My parents are out of town this weekend. You can come over on Sunday if you really want."

You were secretly glad he suggested his house. You didn't want Steve coming over and judging your house that was very much not a mansion like his probably was.

"Sounds like a plan," you said dryly. "What time do you want me to come over?"

"I don't know like... two o'clock?" Said Steve.

"Works for me," you said unenthusiastically, and he seemed just as eager as you were as he ripped some paper from his notebook and wrote his address on it, giving it to you.

"Don't take this the wrong way but can you please not tell anyone about this?" Steve asked.

You didn't resist this time, and let yourself freely roll your eyes. "Don't worry, I don't want anyone knowing about this either Harrington."

His eyes flashed with surprise, and you tried not to feel too satisfied as you had clearly startled him with that.

The rest of the week passed quicker than you would've liked it to, and before you knew it, you were climbing onto your bicycle with your bag on your back and his address in your hand. It was a longer ride than you had anticipated, and you soon realised why your houses were so far away from each others as you entered his neighbourhood, which was lined with rich houses and fancy cars in driveways, a stark contrast to your neighbourhood that was filled with actual life instead of excessively big, soulless properties.

You finally pulled up to Steve's house, and suddenly the nerves inside you increased tenfold. You certainly didn't want to be alone with Steve Harrington in his house that was go-to place for high school parties you were never invited to. But you were a tutor, this was your job, so you had to pull through. You were determined to get Steve to at least pass one of his subjects.

You took a deep breath before you approached the house and knocked on the door. You stood there for a few minutes with no answer, so you knocked again, and only a minute after that, the door swung open.

Steve looked like he had just rolled out of bed with rumpled clothes and hair that was tousled, out of its usual polished state, a sight that felt a bit shocking to see as he was well known for his perfect hair.

He blinked as if he was surprised to see you, and then he said, "I forgot you were coming."

Despite your nerves, you were able to remain cool and unbothered on the outside as you shot him a deadpanned look, sarcastically replying, "flattering."

He sighed. "I didn't mean it like that, I just- sorry, I know you've come all this way, but I can't do the whole tutoring thing today. I've got a killer headache, so I'm in not in a good state to study."

You actually did believe that he had a headache, but you had a feeling he was leaving out some details.

"Are you hungover?"

A pause.

"No," Steve scoffed.

But his hesitation had already answered your question.

"Have you made a hangover smoothie?"

He frowned. "Hangover smoothie?"

"You don't do that sort of stuff? My sister always did when she was in high school," you said. "Do you have a blender?"

"I... don't think so?"

"God, for someone who always goes to parties, you don't seem well equipped for your hangovers," you said quietly, but he heard it all the same, and he looked at you incredulously.

"I can't study," Steve repeated firmly, probably a way of trying to get you to leave.

But you only tilted your head. "I think you can."

"What?"

"Just drink lots of water, and we can get started," you said with a sweet smile.

"This is ridiculous, you can't-"

"But I can, because I'm your tutor, and you can be as difficult as you want, but I'm not giving up on you. So, are you going to let me in, or should I tutor you at school this week?" You asked.

Steve stared at you in bewilderment, like he couldn't even fathom the fact that someone was saying no to him, that someone was going against what he wanted.

He seemed to realise that you weren't going away anytime soon, so he widened the door, and you smiled with satisfaction as you stepped into the threshold, shoulder brushing against his as you walked further into his house.

Your confidence diminished as you followed Steve into his fancy kitchen, awkwardly standing in silence while he had a water in a glass that had probably been expensive, like most items likely were in the house by how everything looked, but you tried not to pay too much attention to it all.

He then led upstairs to his bedroom, and you tried not to show your surprise at the size of it, at the king-sized bed in the middle of the room, the shiny basketball trophies that lined the shelves, and the ensuite connected to the room.

It reminded you of how much of a typical jock he was, and how you were supposed to tutor this certain jock.

"Get started with it then," said Steve unenthusiastically, flopping onto his bed. When he noticed you weren't moving, he said, "you can sit down, y'know."

You cleared your throat awkwardly before sitting on the edge of his bed that you noticed immediately was very soft. Still, you didn't let yourself get too comfortable as you shifted your bag to your lap, undoing the zip and starting to unload your stuff.

Soon enough, there were books and pens scattered on the bed, both of you sitting opposite each other. He at least had a notebook opened in front of him with pen in his hand, but that was where it ended, while you explained the key points of the Civil Rights Movement for his history class.

"Are you hungry?" He interrupted you to ask. "I am."

You gave him a confused look. "Um... I guess I could eat, why?"

"I'll go get a snack!" He said eagerly, jumping up from the bed, "do you like potato chips?"

"Yeah...?"

"Great, I'll be back," said Steve, bounding out of the room, leaving you confused by his sudden hospitality.

When he was gone for longer than necessary just to get chips, you realised he was just making an excuse to not do his work, and it made your irritation grow. You needed to come up with a new strategy to get the information for the work through his head.

He eventually came back with a bag of chips that he sat between you so that you could share, but he still ate most of them as you focused on trying to make him learn. It became even more annoying to do so when he kept crinkling the bag obnoxiously and chewing excessively, all while sat in a stupid position on his side while leaning on his elbow.

And then you got an idea.

Just as he reached out for more chips, you snatched the bag out of his reach and placed it next to you.

Steve looked at you, clearly affronted. "You didn't have to take the whole thing if you wanted some."

"I made some flash cards for you," you said, ignoring what he said.

"Oh, great," he said sarcastically.

You shot him a look as you reached into your bag to pull out the pile of flashcards stuck together with a paper clip.

"Here's how we'll do this. For every answer you get right, you get a chip," you told him. "If you get it wrong, well, you just won't get anything."

He narrowed his eyes. "That's just stupid. I could easily get those back."

"Okay, then go ahead."

He held your challenging gaze before moving abruptly to try and startle you, reaching for the bag. But you were faster, taking the bag before he could touch it and placing it on your other side.

His mouth parted. "That was good luck."

"Just answer the flash cards Harrington, and you can get as many as you want," you said. "Only if you get them right though."

Steve groaned, running his hands over his face before he said, "fine, then shoot."

You smiled, pleased, and read out the first flash card. "What does the atomic number of an atom tell you?"

Steve was silent for a moment. "Uh, say that again?"

You repeated it, then he narrowed his eyes at you suspiciously.

"I thought we were doing history," he said accusingly.

"We were, but now we're doing science. I guess I didn't think you'd realise since you don't listen to anything I say," you said coolly.

Steve raised his eyebrows, and got off his elbows, sitting up. "Alright, so we're not holding back today."

"Why would I? I'm serious about tutoring you, Steve," you said while looking into his eyes, saying his first name for the first time without realising it. A smirk then tugged at his lips, and he subtly grew more confident.

"Atomic number... um... it tells you how heavy the atom is, or something?" He guessed.

"Incorrect," you said flatly, "but at least you tried. The atomic number of an atom tells you how many protons there are in the nucleus."

Steve frowned. "What does that even mean?"

"The nucleus of an atom is the centre of the atom, and it consists of the protons and neutrons," you explained, and at his lost expression, you added, "I can draw you a diagram-"

"No, just... next question," said Steve with a slight grimace.

You obliged, and went to the next card. "How many electrons are found in the first, second and third shells of an atom?"

"Jesus Christ," Steve murmured, rubbing his temple.

Feeling a stab of sympathy for him, you said softly, "want a hint?"

"Obviously."

"There are two found in the first shell, and the second and third are the same," you told him. "Well, it depends on which rule you're using, but we'll just use one for this one."

"I don't know, okay?" Steve snapped, still rubbing his temple. "We both know I don't know shit."

You deflated at his outburst, and you bit your lip, reading over the flash cards.

"Let's try this one, it's easy," you said gently. "What is the central part of an atom?"

Steve shot you a glare. "I don't-"

"I just said it," you told him encouragingly, "when I was explaining the answer to the first question. Think back on what I said."

Steve furrowed his eyebrows, "I..."

"I offered to draw a diagram of it."

You waited patiently as Steve went into deep thought, and then he blurted out, "the nucleus!"

You grinned. "Yes! That's right?"

Steve's eyes widened. "Really?"

"Really! Good job, Harrington, I knew you had it in you," you said happily.

"Thanks. Now, can I have my chips back?”

"Oh, right," you handed the packet back to Steve, and he took it back eagerly, digging into the bag enthusiastically. You snorted, and he sent you a sharp look with no real bite.

"You haven't had any yet, have some," Steve offered, holding it out.

"I'm fine, thank you," you said politely.

"You said you could eat, so eat," Steve insisted, and you let out a little laugh before giving in and taking one.

"You know, it's not that you don't know shit, it's that you don't pay attention," you said. "If you just simply did that, you would know much more."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Tell me more about it later," said Steve, bored by school talk. "What's your favourite chip flavour?"

To your own surprise, you went along with the change of topic. "Salt and vinegar."

His face scrunched up in disgust. "Are you serious?"

"What's wrong with salt and vinegar?" You said defensively.

"Everything. It makes my tongue feel weird, and I hate the smell," said Steve. "It's disgusting."

"No it's not! What's your favourite then if you're such an expert?" You inquired.

"Chicken's good."

It was your turn to grimace. "Yeah, you're the last person who should be judging my favourite flavour."

Steve's jaw dropped. "You don't like chicken?"

"It's got a weird smell to it," you said.

"Salt and vinegar is the one with a weird smell!" Steve said furiously, and instead of snapping back at him, you couldn't help but burst into laughter.

Surprise flickered across his face at your laughter, before he was unable to stop himself from laughing with you. It felt so out of the ordinary to be genuinely laughing with Steve Harrington on a Sunday, a moment that you felt like you shouldn't have belonged in.

And when the ring of the telephone on his bedside table cut through the sound of your combined laughter, the moment vanished, and you no longer belonged.

"I'll get that," said Steve, sobering and jumping off the bed to reach the phone, taking it off the stand and holding it to his ear.

The awkwardness crept back into you as you sat in silence, trying to mind your own business as you looked down at the books set out in front of you. Still, you couldn't help but pay attention to Steve's conversation.

"Oh, hey Nance!" He said eagerly, and you blinked at the change in his voice. "Mhm... yeah, of course, I would love to. How could I ever say no?" He laughed then, and you could hear the muffled voice on the other end. "Yeah, I'll be there in fifteen minutes. See you then."

You were picking at the skin on your fingers by the time he put the phone back down on the stand, and you reluctantly looked up as he turned to you.

"Hey, so uh-"

"You have plans with your girlfriend?" You said it before he could, raising your eyebrows.

"Well... yeah," said Steve sheepishly. "So unfortunately, we're going to have to cut this short."

"I don't think you find that unfortunate," you said knowingly, getting off the bed and starting to gather your stuff.

"Yeah, I don't," he admitted shamelessly. "No one does homework on a Sunday anyway."

"People with good grades do," you said pointedly, and Steve's eyebrows furrowed at the jab. Yes, it was a little harsh, but you had realised by now that you needed to be harsh if you wanted to get your point across. You straightened up, looking him in the eyes. "Harrington, you can't cut a tutoring session short just because your girlfriend wants to hang out with you."

Annoyance spread across his face. "Why not?"

"Because that's not how it works," you said snappishly, getting irritated with his obliviousness. "We were finally getting somewhere, and then you just ditched it with no second thought. You signed up for this, so you need to pull your head out of your ass and go through with it."

Steve scowled. "For the record, I didn't sign up for this, my dad did, so you should know I'm not doing this willingly. Even if I was, I'm not going to ditch my girlfriend to be tutored by another girl in my own house."

"Doesn't she know you're getting tutored?"

"No, no one does!" He blurted out, and you blinked. "The whole thing's pointless. Seriously, you really don't need to do this. You know my girlfriend is really smart? She can just tutor me instead, and she's happy to do so."

"Maybe you should've told your dad that before he signed you up," you said coldly.

"You don't think I- you know what, it's none of your business. You should just give it up, because you should know by now that this isn't going anywhere," said Steve heatedly, and you clenched your fists, biting your tongue so that you wouldn't say something you'd regret.

You packed the rest of your stuff and zipped your bag with an angry sigh. You hoisted your bag onto your back and went for the door, desperate to get out of the house.

But then you paused by the door, gripping the doorframe tightly as you looked at Steve who was glaring at the ground.

"You don't understand that I'm not giving up, Harrington. This might be an arrangement neither of us like, but I'm going to help you no matter what, because that's what I do. You shouldn't doubt yourself so much," your voice became quieter the more you spoke, suddenly feeling embarrassed.

You turned before you could see him look at you, and you hastily left the house.

***

The next tutoring session in the library was awkward and mostly silent. You had tried to explain the work to him for the first fifteen minutes, but when you realised he was never going to listen, you stopped talking and looked at your notes instead. You gave him a textbook that you told him to read even as that was something the both of you knew he wasn't going to do. You spent the whole session trying to think of what to do about him, how you could get him to just listen to you.

It was at the end when he broke the silence.

"About the other day..." he started, and you looked at him too quickly, with too much hope. "I just... you know who my girlfriend is, right?"

Oh, so it was just about his girlfriend instead of an apology. You didn't know why you were expecting more.

But of course you knew his girlfriend. Nancy Wheeler, a pretty, smart girl who nearly beat your top grade in the class, and sometimes did when you lagged behind on work due to tutoring. She was quiet but kind, and never did a thing wrong it seemed. You weren't friends with her, but you liked her with the exception of the times she got a higher mark than you, and jealousy would flare up inside you without being able to help it.

You didn't know how someone like her was able to put up with Steve.

"Yeah. She's really nice," you replied.

Steve smiled, a soft look in his eyes you had never seen before. "Yeah, I know."

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes.

"I just want to ask you to not tell her about this... whole tutoring thing. Or anyone, for that matter. I don't want her to know because it's a bad look for me to be spending so much time with another girl," he explained.

"But I'm just tutoring you," you said with confusion.

"Yeah, but still," Steve shrugged.

You didn't hold back from rolling your eyes this time.

"And I don't want anyone knowing I'm getting tutored either. They might think I'm a nerd," said Steve, and then gave you an apologetic look. "No offence."

"None taken," you said sarcastically.

"Anyway, is that all okay?" He asked.

You sighed. "Yes, it is. I haven't told anyone anyway, and I don't plan to. My goal is just to get you to pass one test, and then you can be free."

"One test?" He repeated.

"Yes."

"It doesn't have to be an A or anything?"

"No, just a pass, even if barely," you said.

Steve nodded like he was accepting a challenge, leaning back in his seat. "Deal."

You hated how a small smile twitched at your lips. "Deal."

That next Sunday, Steve came over to your house instead. Leading up to it, you had been a nervous wreck.

People came over to your house all the time for tutoring, it had become normal for you, and you never minded it. But it was different with Steve, because he was different from all of the other people you had tutored. You had seen his big house, you knew he was rich just by looking into his driveway, so he was more likely to judge.

It wasn't that you were poor. You and your family were comfortable, but not rich, and you had a feeling Steve had only ever been around rich. You were the type of person who still only had a bike because you were saving up for a car, while he was the type to have his car bought for him.

You also just had wildly different interests, so yeah, you were pretty fucking scared.

You sat in your kitchen while your mum moved around you, biting your nails while you waited for Steve to come. You had deep cleaned your bedroom, and cleaned other parts of the house just to be safe.

You hated how much Steve Harrington was stressing you out.

"I think your new student is here," your mum said, looking through the window.

You jumped up at once, and joined her by the window, spotting Steve's burgundy BMW parked outside of your house.

Your mum raised her eyebrows. "He must be borrowing his dad's car.”

"No, that's his car," you said weakly.

She blinked. "Oh, wow. Okay."

You watched Steve get out of the car, subconsciously observing the navy jacket he was wearing over a polo shirt, along with his famous jeans that always fit him just right.

You blinked, startled by your own thoughts, and distracted yourself by heading for the door to greet Steve.

"Don't be weird!" You called out to your mum.

"I'm never weird!" She called back. That was a lie.

You opened the front door before Steve even reached it, and you internally winced at your eagerness.

He seemed to notice it by the slight raise of his eyebrows, but thankfully, he didn't say anything.

"Hey," he said casually as he approached you.

"Hi," you said blandly.

A smile tugged at the corners of his lips, and you were about to ask him what was funny until he spoke. "You know, you always speak in this tone."

You frowned. "Tone? What tone?"

"Like, this flat tone, and you're blunt too," he explained. At your skeptical look, he rushed to say, "not in a bad way, it doesn't have to be bad. Except for when you're like, insulting me."

"I don't insult you."

"You literally did this time last week."

"Just because someone's saying the truth, doesn't mean it's an insult Harrington," you said sweetly.

He clicked and pointed at you. "See? That's it, right there!"

"That wasn't an insult."

"No, but it was blunt."

You rolled your eyes, albeit a smile tugged at your lips against your will.

"Just come in, we've got work to do," you said, widening the door and stepping aside for him to come through.

"Yes ma'am," said Steve, stepping into the threshold, and you failed to keep your smile from widening.

Your smile dropped when you were reminded of your fears as you noticed him looking around your home, and you started to pick at your fingers.

"My bedroom's just upstairs," you said quietly, about to lead him to your room until your mum appeared with a wide smile.

"Hello! You must be Steve!" Your mum greeted brightly. She introduced herself by her first name, and you wanted to sink into a hole.

"Nice to meet you," said Steve politely, seeming taken aback from your mum's energy. But there was nothing judgemental on his face, just... surprise.

"I don't know how long you plan to stay over for, but no matter the time, if you want a drink or some food, feel free to come down and ask! Or just get some yourself, she can show you," your mum said kindly, referring to you. "If she lets you out of the room, that is..."

"Mum," you warned.

"I'm just playing around honey! She's just a strict tutor, she's determined," your mum told Steve.

"He knows, mum. I've been tutoring him for a few weeks," you said with annoyance. At least, you had been trying to. "We're going up to my room now."

"Okay. Good luck, Steve!" Your mum said playfully to Steve, and you groaned as you urged him along while he laughed, seeming heavily amused by your mum.

"I'm sorry," you said once you were out of earshot. "I told her not to be weird, and I guess she heard a completely different thing."

"She's not weird," Steve smiled. "She's... really nice."

He wore a strange expression when he said it, one you couldn't read, so you just looked away and dismissed it.

You swallowed nervously as you entered your room, Steve stepping in behind you, and you rushed over to set up the stationery on the floor, as if starting as soon as possible would give him less time to look at your room.

You called him down to sit, and your face felt hot as he sat down without saying anything, glancing at your posters with an unreadable expression.

Your focus was on English today where Steve had to write an essay. You didn't think it was particularly hard, but that was always different for Steve. So you went into it thinking that he would be ignorant to it as always, that he would just get distracted by something stupid again.

But he proved you wrong.

Because when you looked at him, his eyes were already on you, and they weren't glazed over with the other thoughts he usually had running through his mind. He seemed... focused, and it startled you. Especially so when he asked a question about the topic.

So you let him write the introduction of the essay himself, sitting in silence as he wrote. Both of you had your backs pressed up against your bed, the supplies laid out in front of you while you sat a respectful distance from each other.

You tried to mind your own business, but then you couldn't help but stare at him while he wrote something that you'd probably have to give some constructive criticism on. Either way, it felt oddly personal to see him like that. King Steve sitting in your bedroom, writing an essay after apparently listening to the tips and information you gave.

You noticed how his eyes slightly narrowed while he wrote, his tongue sticking out slightly while he concentrated. The small vulnerability was definitely strange to witness, but... nice to see.

You snapped out of your daze, and looked away from him.

You spent the next whole hour working on the essay. There were many scrunched up balls of papers by the end of the hour, all that had come from a frustrated Steve every time he made a mistake. You had to gently remind him that it wasn't his final copy, that these were only his drafts.

He ended up with an introduction he was somewhat satisfied with, and a written starting sentence for the next paragraph.

You never thought you'd say it, but you were actually proud of him. Proud of him for finally putting in the effort, for swallowing his pride and taking your advice.

Your mum came at the perfect time with a plate of chocolate chip cookies just as you had decided to give Steve a break. They were leftovers from the batch she had made only a few days ago, and while Steve had been politely thankful, you could see the delight in his eyes.

After your mum left, he took his first bite of the cookie, and stopped masking his joy.

"I love your mum," he said blissfully, throwing his head back as he savoured the cookie.

"Don't go throwing that sentence around please," you said with a small grimace.

"But I do! I swear, these are heavenly," he said solemnly, holding up the cookie like it was a trophy. "This is exactly what I needed after the worst hour of my life."

You snorted. "Uh oh, Steve Harrington's actually done schoolwork and now he's dying."

"I am," he said seriously, and you laughed, making him grin.

You fell into a relaxed silence as you grabbed a cookie for yourself, and it felt strange to feel so comfortable around Steve, to just eat cookies with him in silence like you were friends who did this all the time.

After a few minutes, Steve interrupted the silence as he nodded towards something on the wall, asking, "do you have siblings?"

You followed his gaze to the photos of you and your family hung up on your wall, one of which included a younger you surrounded by older kids that were in fact your siblings.

"Yeah, quite a few actually," you answered. "But they're all either moved out or at college right now, so I'm basically an only child at the moment."

"So... you're the youngest?" Steve inquired, and you weren't expecting the genuine curiosity in his voice.

"That I am," you said with a bashful smile.

Steve hummed as he stared thoughtfully at the picture of you and your siblings.

"I've always wondered what it would be like to have siblings," Steve said like it had been a thought in his head more than something he'd meant to say out loud, and that seemed to be the case by the way his face fell after he realised what he had said.

But you didn't pay any mind to it, continuing the conversation normally, "it's loud when the house is full. It can also be really annoying when I want some quiet privacy, because that always get disrupted. Well, I guess I get time to myself all the time now, but that's going to change when they come back for the holidays."

You hadn't meant to ramble, and heat rushed to your cheeks once you realised, but Steve

showed anything but judgement. If anything, he seemed invested in your words, a faraway look in his eyes like he was imagining the scene for himself.

"Sounds nice," he said so quietly you almost didn't catch it, and you decided not to let him know that you had heard it, because you somehow knew those words had only been for himself. He cleared his throat, seeming to recollect himself as his voice returned to its usual confident, slightly cocky state. "So, do you plan to go to college like them? Your siblings?"

"Yeah, I'm actually really excited to. It'll be nice to get out of Hawkins," you said with a smile, "what about you?"

Steve shrugged. "I guess. My dad wants me to. But anyway, I probably can't get in with the way I'm going," he gestured to his incomplete essay.

"How many times do I have to tell you that you really do have it in you, Harrington? And either way, it's up to you whether you want to go to college or not. Don't let your dad decide for you," you said lightly, popping a small piece of a cookie into your mouth.

Steve blinked, and something vulnerable flickered in his expression for a few seconds before it smoothed over, his walls coming back up.

He seemed to be in a rush to lighten the unspoken weight that now hung in the air, so in his haste, he grabbed another cookie and took a reckless bite of it, spilling crumbs onto your carpeted floor.

"Stop it, you're getting crumbs on my carpet!" You complained, grimacing as you picked the crumbs out of your carpet and sprinkled them back onto the plate.

When Steve let out a laugh, your expression soured and you decided to take a different approach, gathering more crumbs in between your fingers before throwing them at him.

He let out a sound of disbelief as he held his hand up to shield himself, and he narrowed his eyes at you before he picked some of the crumbs out himself and threw them at you.

"You jerk!" You laughed, swatting his arm before the two of you fought over the last few pieces of crumbs in the floor to toss at each other.

You both ended up in a fit of laughter that made your stomachs hurt from the sheer absurdity of it, and that was what you counted as the first successful tutoring session.

***

The tutoring sessions with Steve changed after that day. Instead of it being something in your schedule you dreaded, it became something you actually looked forward to, because the times with Steve became enjoyable.

You both came to an agreement of doing tutoring twice a week, since you had other people to tutor and he had basketball practice. Wednesdays at his house, Sundays at yours.

You grew to favour Wednesdays and Sundays.

What it was, was that he was finally listening to you, and he was finally getting schoolwork done. There were many things about the work from each subject that you always had to explain to him multiple times so that he would understand, but you never lost your patience. He seemed surprised by this every time, looking at you like he was waiting for you to get angry after sheepishly asking for another explanation.

But you never did. You never saw any reason to.

It was not only that he was finally getting assignments done, but there had also been a shift in the dynamic between you. At the beginning, it had all been awkward silences and irritated glares, until you started to talk instead of letting the silences settle, until you laughed instead of throwing annoyed words and looks at each other, and the glares became playful instead of real. It began to feel less like a chore, and more like a fun hangout.

You considered Steve Harrington as a friend now, which felt ridiculous while simultaneously feeling right, because why wouldn't he be your friend? Sure, he didn't acknowledge you at school, and sometimes he talked about his girlfriend too much when he should've been studying, but he was kind. He was extremely nice to your parents, he complimented your home in a way that you knew he meant it, and he was always offering you food and drinks whenever you went to his house, or bringing them over whenever he came to yours.

You had even grown to like him so much that you started making hangover smoothies for him every Sunday when he came to your house, because he was pretty much always hungover on Sundays. You told yourself that you did it because you wanted him feeling well enough to be tutored, but deep down, you knew it was more than that.

Sure, he had his flaws, but Steve wasn't nearly as bad as you had initially thought him to be. Because you had seen a different side of him, a softer and more vulnerable side he never showed in public, in front of his popular friends and the girls that fluttered their eyelashes at him despite knowing he was taken. You wondered if he even showed that side to Nancy Wheeler.

It had especially shone through on one Wednesday when he came to your house instead of his. He had called you immediately after school to beg you to not come to his house, to have him come to yours instead just for that week. He hadn't told you why, but you had said yes anyway, because all you needed to hear was the urgency in his voice to know that it was important.

You hadn't asked when he arrived, even when he  looked down more than usual. You still didn't ask when he wasn't nearly as talkative as he usually was, almost silent the whole time as you talked him through the history paper he had to write.

You were forced to finally do something about it when you noticed him doing nothing after you left him to do it on his own, his eyes glued to the paper with a distant look in his eyes, mindlessly tapping his pencil on his knee. It was easy to see as you were working in your living room, sat at either ends of the couch. You didn't want to push him as he clearly wasn't in a good mood, but unfortunately, giving him a push was what you were there to do.

"Steve," you said softly, bringing him back to the moment and capturing his attention. "Are you struggling to start the next sentence?"

He blinked. "Huh?”

"On the paper," you said, nodding towards it.

"Oh," he said, looking at it like that was the first time he had noticed it there. "Um... no. Just thinking."

"You've been thinking for a long time," you pointed out gently, and you swallowed when he fixed his hard gaze on you. "I just- if you need me to go through it again, you know not to be afraid to ask me-"

"For god's sake, I already know I'm stupid so can you just leave it alone for a second?" Steve snapped, and you jerked back a little, taken by surprise. "I don't need you talking to me like I'm some slow kid."

"I wasn't-"

"You were. You always do!" Steve said out of frustration, running a hand through his hair.

You stared at him for a moment, processing his words before you leaned back into your spot on the couch, accepting defeat.

"Work at your own pace then, Steve," you said flatly, not bothering to hide your annoyance as you shifted your body away from him, focusing on your own notes.

You didn't look at him for a few minutes, but the tension in the air was palpable as you felt Steve's gaze burn holes into you. He said your name after at least ten minutes had passed, and you looked at him to find his guilty expression.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly, looking at the ground. "You're not doing anything wrong, I'm just an asshole. I don't even know why I'm acting like one when I literally wanted to come here."

You frowned. "What do you mean?"

"The last place I wanted to be at was my house tonight, and for some reason, your place was the first thing that came to mind for an alternative," Steve admitted softly, and your heart skipped a beat. "I was so relieved when you said yes to me coming here instead."

The admission slammed into your chest, and it made your breath catch. Your house had been the first place he had thought of for an escape? Not Tommy Hagan's house? Not even Nancy Wheeler's?

Steve blinked as if snapping out of it, and frantically said, "sorry, that was a weird thing to say. I don't know why I- just forget that ever came out of my mouth."

"Don't be sorry. I think it's nice," you said softly, turning your body back to him as he looked at you curiously, "that you thought of my house as a better place to be. I didn't realise you liked it that much."

"How could I not? It's the place that holds the outcomes of your mum's glorious baking," Steve joked, and you laughed quietly, shaking your head at him. Steve smiled, but his face quickly sobered as he looked at you questioningly. "By the way, you haven't asked me anything."

"About what?"

"About what happened at my house, why I prefer to be here," said Steve bluntly.

You shrugged. "Not my business, is it? It's up to you if we talk about it."

Steve seemed taken aback by that, and you didn't know why he did. Was he used to people prying in his personal business that clearly upset him?

"But... don't you want to know?" Steve pushed.

"I guess I'm a bit curious, but I'm not going to force you to say anything," you said as if it were obvious.

Steve opened his mouth just to close it again, and narrowed his eyes. "You're weird."

You arched an eyebrow. "Or I'm just not nosy."

"Or that," Steve agreed in defeat, and you huffed out a laugh. You didn't expect anything more from him, but when he started talking again in a weaker tone, you listened. "My dad's just an asshole, and... is it really bad to say that I prefer my parents being away on a work trip to them being home?"

You didn't respond momentarily, staring ahead thoughtfully before you softly spoke. "I think you're allowed to feel however you want to, and you shouldn't be so quick to invalidate yourself."

You looked at Steve to find him staring at his lap with his eyebrows knitted together into a small frown, picking at his fingernails as he went into deep thought, probably taking in your words.

Neither of you mentioned it again after that. His asshole of a dad and his unstable home, that was. Every time his parents were home on a Wednesday, you always changed the plans around for him to come to your place instead. You never made a big deal out of it, never talked about the reason why, because you never felt it was necessary to make Steve explain himself more than he had to. It was something Steve appreciated more than you could realise.

It was a Friday night when your parents were in need of some last minute groceries. Your dad had been about to go get them himself before you had offered to get them instead. Your parents had both just come home from a whole day of working, and it had worn them down enough to the point you could see the exhaustion on their faces, so you had been generous enough to take a small weight off their shoulders. They had been hesitant to let you with the recent disappearance of a young boy named Will Byers, but they had been too tired to argue with you, so they let you go with minimal argument.

You weren't old enough to drive on your own yet, so you took your bicycle as you always did with a flashlight. The grocery store wasn't far away anyway.

You quickly popped in and out, getting what you needed with the cash your parents had given you. You took your bicycle out of park and struggled to juggle the full grocery bag in your hands while trying to get onto your bike safely, only having the fluorescent lights of the store behind you to help.

You heard a car pulling up to the curb in front of you, and didn't look up as you thought nothing of it, thinking it was just someone else coming to the grocery store until they suddenly honked. You jumped in surprise, almost dropping the bags as you looked up.

The headlights of the car blinded your vision for a moment, and you blinked rapidly as you squinted to see who was sitting in the drivers seat of the car. When you realised who it was, bewilderment washed over you.

The window rolled down, and Steve tilted his head to meet your gaze from the drivers seat. "What are you doing?"

You blinked, and shot him a look of disbelief. "What am I doing? What are you doing, honking at me like some idiot?"

"That's not very nice."

"Am I usually nice, Harrington?"

Steve snorted. "No. But seriously, what are you doing?”

"What does it look like? You do know what groceries are, right?" You asked sassily.

"I know that! But why are you... you're trying to get onto that bike while you're holding a bag that looks very full."

"Yes?" You said, confused on why he was pointing out the obvious.

Steve returned your confused look. "Didn't you bring your car?"

You gave him a deadpanned expression. "I don't have a car."

Steve didn't react for a moment as he comprehended what you had just said, and then his eyes widened. "You- you don't have a car?"

You looked at him with irritation. Of course a rich boy like him couldn't believe such a thing. "No, because not all of us are rich like you, Harrington."

Steve blinked, eyes flitting from you to your bicycle as he slowly seemed to understand. "Right... but you couldn't even bring your parents' car?"

"I can't drive yet. I'm a year younger than you, remember?"

"Then why-"

"Can you stop interrogating me and just get to the point of why you're here right now? Or have you just come to make fun of me for not having fancy transportation like you?" You snapped more harshly than you meant it, and a tense silence followed your outburst, making embarrassment flood through you.

"I didn't come to make fun of you," said Steve quietly. "I was going to ask if you wanted a ride back home."

Your face changed, not expecting that. "Oh."

"Yeah, um... well, do you? Want that ride?" Steve asked.

"Is it still up for grabs after I just bit your head off?" You said sheepishly.

Steve let out a laugh, and answered your question wordlessly as he got out his side of the car and walked around the BMW to approach you. He stopped in front of you, looking into your eyes for a second before he took your bike out of your hands.

"You're not about to throw my precious bike to the side of the road, right?" You asked, half joking.

He snorted. "No, I'm putting it in the trunk. You can get in the passenger seat, I’ll be there in a second, I just gotta put the seats down first."

You were about to speak up to say that he didn't have to go through so much trouble and that you could really just pedal your way home, but he was too swift in his movements as he opened the car door, leaning in to adjust the backseats of his car.

You tentatively got into the passenger seat, balancing the grocery bag in your lap. You glanced at Steve through the rearview mirror, and felt a weird fluttery sensation in your chest.

You stared ahead with a warm face as you listened to Steve’s movement before you could hear the sounds of him handling your bike. You looked over your shoulder this time, and watched the way he put in extra effort to make sure your bike was in a safe position before he closed the trunk. You turned back to the front, the fluttering in your chest intensifying as your cheeks started to burn. God, why were your cheeks burning?

You didn't move as Steve got back into the car and started up the engine again. After a moment of silence, he said, "you can put your seatbelt on, y'know."

"Right! Sorry," you said, your cheeks burning even hotter as you scrambled to put your seatbelt on.

Steve pulled out of park after putting his own seatbelt on, and you deliberately kept your gaze on the window while keeping a tight grip on the bag in your lap.

"You also don't have to keep that bag on your lap. You can put it on the ground," Steve added.

You might as well have been on fire at that point. You carefully placed the bag on the ground, avoiding his gaze. "Sorry, it's just... a nice car. Don't want to ruin it."

"Groceries won't ruin the car," Steve chuckled, and you smiled sheepishly. In your defence, it was a really nice car. "So, why were you on your own? Getting groceries, I know, but your parents didn't want to come?" Steve asked, genuinely curious.

"They were going to get groceries, but I decided to do it to let them rest. They're tired from working all week, so I just wanted to give them a little break," you explained bashfully.

Steve hummed. "That's really nice of you."

"Unheard of, right?" You joked.

"Not really," said Steve so quietly you were sure you imagined it, glancing at him to find that infuriatingly unreadable expression on his face again. "Still dangerous to be going out by yourself at night, though. Especially since that kid's just gone missing."

You did a double take, unsure if you had heard him right the first time. His tone was casual as he said it, but his jaw was tight. He surely didn't care, did he?

"Well, that kid was eleven, and I'm sixteen. I'm capable," you replied.

"Sixteen's not that much older."

"Oh come on, don't act all high and mighty just because you're a year older."

"I'm not. I'm just saying you need to be more careful because I- you don't want something bad to happen you," his voice grew quieter with each word, barely inaudible at the end of his sentence, but you were still able to catch what he said.

You shot him a confused look. He was acting weird tonight, you thought. There was that softer side of him showing that he never displayed in public, but it wasn't that. There was something about his energy that lacked its usual spirit, something dejected. Had it been his parents again, you wondered? You certainly weren't going to ask, though.

The rest of the drive to your home was silent and quick. The grocery store was only a short way from your house anyway.

When you arrived, Steve got out of the car with you to take your bike out of the trunk, being kind enough to park your bike where you directed him as you held the grocery bag.

"Thank you, Steve. For the ride and doing... all of this. You really didn't have to," you said sincerely as he leaned on his car.

Steve smiled weakly. "No worries. Couldn't have just left you there, could I?"

"You could've," you said calmly.

"I'm not that bad, L/N," said Steve teasingly, and you chuckled.

"Goodnight, Steve," you said softly, sending him a small smile.

He mirrored your smile, saying goodnight to you back with your name. You turned on your heel, starting the walk to your house as your heart raced in your warm chest.

When Steve called out your name, you turned around too quickly, making it seem as though you had been waiting for him to call you back. Perhaps you had been.

Steve scratched his neck, seeming nervous as he hesitated. "Um, sorry to be a bother but can I just ask for some advice?"

"Yeah, of course," you said, walking back over to him.

"Since you're a girl and all," said Steve quickly. "It's about Nancy."

You froze.

Oh. You forgot about Nancy.

Your chest twisted suddenly, nearly winding you and making you stumble, but you kept your composure and faced him with your chin up.

"Yeah, what's up?" You said airily.

"She's not happy with me right now. I invited her and her friend over to a party at my house, and she stayed over without her friend and now she hasn't seen her since, and she's really worried," Steve explained. "And I guess I was just more concerned about getting in trouble than her friend, and she got pissed off at me for it and... I don't know, I just don't know how to make it up to her."

You frowned. "Wait, her friend? Like, Barb?"

"Yeah, her. You haven't seen her around, have you?"

"No, not since Tuesday," you said.

"Well shit, that's the night she went missing..." said Steve, and your eyebrows drew together with concern. Just like Nancy, you weren't friends with Barb, but you had always thought she was nice. "Anyway, Nance isn't talking to me so I thought that you, a girl, would know how to fix it."

"Right," you said uncomfortably. "Why don't you ask your friend Carol? She's a girl."

"Yeah, but she's too... I just think you're someone who gives better advice," said Steve honestly.

You didn't know how to take that, and you hated how a smile twitched against your lips.

"Well, it seems simple. You just go up to her, apologise, and help her look for Barb. Or just be there for her. She's obviously distraught if her best friend is nowhere to be seen," you told him.

Steve nodded along, listening intently. "Yeah, okay... thanks."

You smiled weakly, "no problem."

Steve sighed. "I just... I really like her, and I don't want to mess it up, y'know?"

Your chest twisted even further, and you bit your lip, looking away from him.

"Yeah, that's understandable. Well, I hope it works out between you, but I have to go to bed now. My parents will get worried," you said briskly, already starting to talk away.

"Yeah, okay. Goodnight," he said.

"Goodnight," you said quietly over your shoulder, and basically sped to your house, not looking behind you as you went back inside the safety of your home where he couldn't reach you.

That was the night you realised you had developed feelings for Steve Harrington.

But it didn't matter, because his heart only belonged to Nancy Wheeler, and you didn't stand a chance.

***

You were zoned out as you absentmindedly stored some of your books into your locker, your mind in a different place to your physical body.

Annoyingly enough, all it ever seemed your mind could stay on these days was the thought of Steve.

You knew it had been a bad idea to tutor him from the very start for many reasons, and now your worst fear had actually happened. Just like every other girl at Hawkins High, you had developed a schoolgirl crush on Steve Harrington, and he plagued your mind completely without permission.

It had been two weeks since you came to your realisation, and every tutoring session with Steve since then had been torture. It didn't help when he was his usual sweet self, bringing your favourite snacks when he came to your house, telling you how one of the posters in your bedroom looked cool, getting along with your parents, and listening to you with that concentrated look he had that was frustratingly handsome.

And it certainly wasn't helping that he now insisted on giving you a ride home every time you went to his house. He had asked you about your method of transportation to his house since he found out you weren't able to drive, and he seemed to take it personally when you told you just took your bike every time. Sometimes, you even got into small arguments about it, because you didn't like making him go through the effort of putting your bicycle into his car every time, but it made you learn that Steve didn't take no for an answer when to came to those sort of things.

Every ride home made your heart beat a little faster for him, and your feelings grew stronger with each time you both talked nonstop for the whole ride. It wasn't fair that he was able to make you feel such a way.

You used to judge those kind of girls before, the ones who batted their lashes at him in an attempt to get his attention, the ones who stared longingly at him in the hallways. Now you were one of them, and you felt so pathetic. You wanted to defend yourself by acknowledging that you had actually spent quality time with him and had gotten to know him as more than just a popular jock, that you had seen what was under the mask he always hid behind at school.

But did it even matter when he had never once remotely showed interest in you? When you technically weren't even friends, just acquaintances? You were his tutor for goodness' sake, of course you weren't supposed to feel this way. You had never even come close to feeling the same about anyone else you had tutored.

Of course Steve had been the one to capture your heart out of all of it. Him and his stupid soft smile that almost seemed reserved for you, him and his stupid jokes that made you genuinely laugh, and him and his stupid kindness in giving you a ride back to your house that night, putting your bike in his car without you having to ask him to do so, the implications of him caring about you when he expressed a concern for your safety.

All before he had asked you for advice on how to make it up to his girlfriend.

Even if you could've, you wouldn't. You certainly weren't the type to barge into a relationship, a very happy one at that.

You were snapped out of your daze when you heard someone call your name, and you perked up, looking into the direction of the voice.

A boy named Tyler came up to you, a student in your year that you tutored for maths and history. He had an excited expression on his face as he approached you with a piece of paper in his hand.

"Hi, Tyler," you greeted with a warm smile. "What's up?"

He grinned at you. "I have news. Good news."

"What is it?"

He held the piece of paper up to your face, showing you the contents. All you had to do was look at the B circled on it to know what it was.

"I got a B on my maths test!" He told you happily.

"That's amazing!" You said with a wide smile, pride blooming in your chest upon seeing the joy in his eyes. "I told you you had it!"

"I couldn't have done it without you," he said. "Seriously, thank you so much. You saved me."

You laughed sheepishly. "I'm just glad it worked out for you."

"I mean it, you're the best! I hope you're getting good credit for all of this tutoring you do," said Tyler earnestly. "You deserve it."

You smiled. "Thanks."

"I'll see you around. Hopefully I'll ace my history test next!" He said hopefully as he walked off, and you gave him a thumbs up before he fully turned away.

You turned back to your locker with a smile, your chest filled with warmth. That was why all those hours of tutoring was always worth it at the end of the day. The extra credit was a bonus, but it was helping others that really mattered for you.

You jumped at the sudden bang on the locker next to yours, followed by a familiar voice saying, "who was that?"

You turned your head in surprise, and your face morphed into an expression of disbelief as you saw him.

Because here Steve was, his body completely facing you while it leaned against the locker next to yours, his arms crossed and his eyes focused on you while everyone moved around you, all easily able to see the interaction between you two. The interaction between the most popular guy in school and some quiet girl who tutored people. 

It was the first time Steve had ever even looked at you in the school hallways, let alone talked to you, so it took you a moment to respond to his question as you processed your current situation.

And god, you hated how your chest started feeling warm in a different way when you looked at him.

"Um- uh- just a guy I tutor," you said bashfully.

"What were you talking about? He seemed very happy about something," Steve asked, and you quietly grew confused at his curiosity.

"He got a good grade on his test. He came to me because I helped him study, and he really thought he wasn't going to do a good job, but I told him he would, and I was right," you said with a proud smile.

Steve narrowed his eyes at you, his expression unreadable. "Hm, interesting. You seem to like him."

You blinked. "Um... yeah, he's a nice guy."

"So, do you have a thing for him?" Steve said suddenly with a smirk.

Your face dropped. "What?"

"What? It's just a question. You can tell me, I promise it'll stay between us. If it helps, it seems like he might like you too," Steve lowered his voice and leaned in a little, causing heat to rush to your cheeks.

You tried to hide your flustered state by rolling your eyes and slamming your locker shut. "No, Steve. I don't have a thing for him."

"But wouldn't he be your type? Like, smart guys?"

You looked at him incredulously. "No offence to him, but he's not exactly a smart guy if he needs tutoring. God, Steve, just because I get along with him, doesn't mean I like him. I'm his tutor, and that's it."

His infuriating smirk didn't falter, his eyes shining with amusement as he said, "if you say so."

You sighed while rolling your eyes again. "You're so annoying."

"Your eyeballs will get stuck in the back of your head if you keep rolling them."

"Then stop doing things that make me roll my eyes, idiot."

Steve opened his mouth to continue the banter both of you would never admit you thoroughly enjoyed, but the next words never got to leave his mouth as you were suddenly approached by two certain people, one of which threw an arm around Steve.

"Couldn't find you for a second there Harrington, you disappeared on us," said Tommy Hagan, while Carol Perkins stood beside him, chewing gum obnoxiously while assessing you with her eyes.

Then, a smirk spread on her lips, her voice laced with amusement as she asked, "who's your friend, Steve?"

Tommy looked at you like he hadn't noticed you were there, and immediately started sniggering even though you hadn't done anything.

Steve's face fell, something more guarded taking over his expression at the presence of Tommy and Carol while panic flickered faintly in his eyes, and you noticed it. Meanwhile, your stomach churned uncomfortably as Tommy and Carol stared at you like you were some form of entertainment.

When Steve didn't answer Carol, you took it into your own hands and hesitantly said your name. She snorted, arching an eyebrow at you.

"I wasn't asking you," she said.

"Well you were looking at me when you said it, so maybe you should've been clearer about who you were talking to," you shot back coldly, and Steve's eyes widened while Tommy whistled.

Carol's face hardened, chewing her gum more aggressively.

"Sassy, aren't you? Honestly Steve, since when did we start stooping so low for new friends? We shouldn't be welcoming this kind of crowd," she said, looking at Steve with a scoff.

"We're not," said Steve quickly, and you frowned. "She's not my friend. She's just..."

He trailed off, catching your sharp gaze. He held it for a few moments before looking away, looking at his actual friends, "she’s a stranger to me."

Your heart dropped.

A stranger.

Not a friend, not even an acquaintance, just a stranger. That's all you were.

“Then why are you even talking to her?” Carol snorted.

“Because, um… she dropped something and I was just giving it back to her was all,” said Steve hastily, talking about you like you weren’t even there.

Carol raised her eyebrows, unconvinced, and god, you wanted nothing more than to just shove her face into the locker like she deserved.

"As fun as this is, I'm hungry man, let's go eat!" Said Tommy, slapping Steve's back before letting go of him. He briefly glanced at you, his voice mocking as he said, "see you later... uh, whatever your name is."

Carol giggled, "yeah, see you sweetheart."

Tommy burst into another fit of sniggers, and your eyes caught it immediately as Steve let out a laugh, albeit it sounded a little more uncertain than the others.

But you were probably just imagining that just to make yourself feel better, because when the three of them walked away, Steve didn't look back at you once.

Your cheeks burned as he left you standing there, feeling like an idiot who had just been picked apart by a group of people who deemed themselves superior to you just because you weren't popular.

As if that hadn't already ruined your day, as if Steve hadn't already made your heart hurt enough, something happened at the end of your science class.

The class was pleasantly rowdy as everyone either did their written science work or talked with their friends about their plans for the weekend. You were one of the people doing their work, and was the first to walk up to the teacher to hand in your completed work.

"Well done, Y/N. I look forward to grading this, you never fail to impress me," your science teacher said, and you smiled sheepishly, thanking her quietly. "So, how's that tutoring of yours going?"

"Really good," you said, hating how Steve crossed your mind.

"I'm sure it is, I've even seen the evidence of it. You know, I never thought I'd see the day where Steve Harrington would be able to understand anything in my class, but proving by his recent results on his last test, it seems as though I have made it to that day," she told you with a smile.

You stilled. "What do you mean?"

She tilted her head at you. "Hasn't he told you? He passed his science test the other day. I even almost gave him a B."

You narrowed your eyes, "the other day? I- did you give him these results?"

"Yes. I know he tried to hide it, but I could see how happy he was."

Your blood started to pump in your ears, the realisation slowly dawning on you as you comprehended what she was saying.

"I even heard he got a good grade on his English assignment too. I don't know how you've done it, but you've worked wonders on him," she said. "Good job."

You didn't say anything for a moment before collecting yourself enough to say quietly, "yeah, that's good."

You went back to your seat after that, the noise around you fading to the background as the gears turned in your head.

He had been passing tests and getting good grades on assignments, and hadn't told you? He had been keeping it from you?

Your jaw tightened, and you clenched your fists, something hot stirring in your stomach.

You were going to kill him.

***

You thought it had been apart of your dream at first, then you thought it was just some animals playing around outside. But when the persistent tapping kept on going every time you thought it would stop, you finally woke up, and investigated.

When you saw nothing was happening to your window, you went over to it anyway, looking outside to see the source of the noise.

It was much worse than an animal. It was Steve throwing rocks at your parents' window, the morning sun shining down on him and highlighting the small cuts on his face along with the purple bruise on his left cheek.

You gasped softly upon seeing his beat-up face, concern flooding you against your will as you worried about who did something like that to him. You stared at him in disbelief before rushing to put your dressing gown and slippers on, tidying your hair as best as you could before hastily making your way out of the house, not even bothering to be quiet since Steve was being noisy enough anyway.

You walked around your house to meet Steve now crouched, gathering more rocks to throw. You stood there for a moment, gazing at him with folded arms while he didn't notice you, lost in his own world. You reminded yourself that you needed to be hostile, that he still hadn't given you an apology for what he did a few days ago.

When he rose to his feet, you finally spoke up.

"Trying to wake my parents up?" You asked, and he jumped, whirling around to you with wide eyes. He blinked at your words, looking back to your parents' window as you clarified, "that's their room, genius. I know you like my mum's food, but you surely can't be that desperate."

Embarrassment flickered across his face at your words, and he looked back to you with shame. "Shit. Sorry."

You shrugged. "That'll depend on how grumpy they are this morning."

A short silence followed your words, and Steve sighed, running a hand through his hair, and you watched him closely, eyes lingering on his bruises. The injuries looked fresh, and it made you wonder why he was here instead of resting at home.

"Are you okay?" You asked gently before you could stop yourself.

Steve looked at you in surprise. "Huh?"

"Your... face," you said, gesturing to your own. "Seems like you're hurt. Are you alright?"

"Oh, I'm fine, but that doesn't matter," he said quickly, seeming ashamed of whatever it was.  "What matters is what I came here to do, which is to say sorry for the other day."

You raised your eyebrows. "What did you do the other day?"

"You know, when we were talking and Tommy and Carol came over," said Steve, confused on why you were asking about the obvious until he realised you weren't playing dumb, you just wanted him to admit what he did wrong. "And then they were being assholes and I didn't do anything about it."

"Is that it?"

Steve's eyebrows knitted together as he seemed to search his mind for anything else. "I think so?"

You hummed quietly, keeping your face blank as you looked him over. You quickly noticed how something about him was off — not just the bruises and cuts on his face, but the way he held himself, the defeated look in his eyes that wasn't there before. You couldn't put your finger on it, but something in the air around Steve had shifted, and it made your curiosity grow stronger about whatever the hell had happened in the past few days that caused that and the bruises.

Steve sighed, his head hanging low as he said, "look, I know I messed up. I know that wasn't right of me and it wasn't fair to you, and you had to defend yourself which you shouldn't have had to because I shouldn't have let them treat you like that in the first place. If it's any help, it didn't feel good during that moment."

You scoffed. "It didn't feel good for me either."

The guilt in Steve's eyes strengthened, and he looked at you sorrowfully. "I'm really sorry. You didn't deserve that, after everything you've done for me-"

"Actually, it's okay Steve. We're not friends anyway, you don't owe me anything," you snapped.

Steve's face fell slightly like you had struck him. "That was stupid of me to say. I was trying to get them to back off of you, you know? They wouldn't have taken it well if I said yes, they would've been even worse."

"That's such a lame excuse. They were going to make fun of me no matter what you said, so you're just telling yourself that to feel better," you said sourly. "You're just like... I don't know, ashamed of me or something?"

Steve shook his head. "I'm not-"

"Then what do you call it? You're only nice to me when we're alone, and you're embarrassed to be seen with me in public. That's why you didn't want me to tutor you in the library. You literally said it yourself, you didn't want anyone to walk in and see," you poured out what had been pent up inside you through this whole ordeal. "You never acknowledged me in public until that moment for some reason, and even then, you said I was just a stranger."

"I know, I know, it was shitty of me. I shouldn't have- I'm really sorry," said Steve, and the worst part about it was how sincere he sounded, how real the apology seemed to be.

But you knew it would go back to normal after this, and with the last few days having given you room to think about it, you knew you couldn't go for any longer. Not with your feelings for him growing stronger everyday.

"I don't think this arrangement is necessary anymore," you said with a tight throat, avoiding his gaze as you said it. But even in your peripheral vision, you could see how his face dropped.

"What? But I still need to be tutored! I- I still need your help," said Steve frantically.

"There are other tutors at school, you can just go to them if you really need help," you said. "Also, didn't you say you could get your girlfriend to tutor you? She'll be happy to help."

Steve's expression shifted into something more hurt as he looked at his feet. "I'm not sure that's so true anymore. I'm not her favourite person right now."

Your chest tightened, and you finally looked at him, reading his crestfallen expression. Was that the reason why he looked like that? Because him and Nancy were arguing? You had a nagging feeling that there was much more to it, but you weren't going to push. You were too mad at him to do so anyway.

"Even then, I'm not the only tutor in the world. Besides, from what I've heard, you'll be just fine without tutoring anyway," you said bitterly.

Confused spread across Steve's features. "From what you've heard?"

"Yes. I'm not sure why I had to hear it from someone else that you had literally passed your science test, and got a good grade on your English assignment."

Steve's eyes widened slightly. "You- who told you that?"

"The science teacher."

"Why would she even tell you that? Oh my god..." Steve murmured, pressing his hands to his face.

"That doesn't matter, Steve. What matters is that for some reason you decided to hide the fact that you were improving," you scolded. "You neglected to tell your literal tutor that you had passed in two subjects!"

"I... forgot," said Steve unconvincingly.

You snorted humourlessly. "I don't think you did, and I don't even want to ask why you didn't tell me because you'll probably just give me another stupid excuse."

You were mainly pissed off at Steve for the way he had treated you in front of Tommy and Carol the other day, that was what drove the wedge between you two in the first place, but him not telling you about his good results had been the final straw. Because those had been moments he was meant to share with you, because you had been the one to help him. He was supposed to approach with you excitement like Tyler had done, and he was supposed to brag about his results to you with a wide smile while you were silently proud of him.

You had been eager for that moment between you and Steve, but because of some reason that was unknown to you, he hadn't told you, and had robbed you of that moment.

So yeah, you were very pissed.

"So you're ditching me because I didn't tell you about two decent grades I got?" Said Steve, and you couldn't help but notice the hurt that seeped through his voice. You hated how it sparked guilt in you.

Yet, you stood your ground. "I told you that all you needed to do was pass one test, and you could be free of me. Did you just forget that?"

Steve's Adam's apple bobbed, his jaw tight. "No."

"Then why didn't you just tell me? I know you hate being tutored, so why did you drag it out?" You asked heatedly, your pent up frustration spilling out. You stared at him expectantly, impatiently waiting for his answer.

But he only stared back at you, his mouth opening uselessly with nothing coming out, his eyes holding a desperate look that tugged at your chest, that almost made you give in. But you fought back against it, and scoffed at his silence.

"There's no reason to keep doing this, Steve," you said, your voice weaker.

"But I still need help with my other subjects," said Steve quietly.

"You know how to study now, and you can help yourself. I've given you a little push, so now you can be independent," you reasoned. "And look at the bright side, you'll have free time on Wednesdays and Sundays now."

"But I..." he trailed off, and your heart skipped a beat as you thought he was finally about to speak, finally about to admit something.

But he chose not to say it, and continued with his silence.

You gazed at his face, taking in each detail of his features, memorising it for when you would think about him at night, when you wouldn't see him anymore. The softness of his dark hazel eyes, the moles scattered on his face, and his stupid perfect hair that you longed to feel with your own fingers.

"It really was nice tutoring you Steve, but I've done my job now," you said softly, sending him your first smile of the day, and your last for a while.

He looked at you with sadness, something close to devastation, but not quite there. Because maybe Steve Harrington was fond of you in the way he was fond of your mother's cookies, but he nowhere near cared about you in the way he cared about Nancy Wheeler.

And that's why you turned your back to him, walking inside your house without looking back at him, even when you heard the small, desperate "please," leave his lips.

all comments and reblogs appreciated!

"Being back here makes me hot in the face Hot blood in my pulsing veins Heavy memories weighing on my brain Hot and heavy in the basement of your parents' place You used to be so sweet Now you're a firecracker on a crowded street Couldn't look away even if I wanted Try to walk away but I come back to the start." - Hot & Heavy, Lucy Dacus

⋆.ঌ˚˖ ࣪chapter summary

ch1: back to the old house ch2: wary as a dove ch3: last call ch4: your baby ch5: the light of the moon ch6:heaven is here

⋆.ঌ˚˖extras

unspoken words - text messages between you and gator over the years father's days - a drabble about gator's father's days over the years friday night lights and pregancy frights - the day you told gator you were pregnant

Since there was really no room for you by the stove or the counter, the table was already set, and you were hungry, you hesitantly made your way over to the empty seat beside Gator, his eyes trailing you the whole time. 

Bowman’s chair was empty as well, and when you pulled your seat out from the table, you lowered yourself into it, waiting for a reprimand from Roy, but he was still focused on the twins. Gator was the one who spoke instead.

“This ain’t what I meant,” he said, voice low but hurried, like he wanted to say it without anyone else but you knowing. “Just—y’hear that, a’right?”

You turned to look at him, scrunching up your face, because you didn’t understand but you didn’t want to hear shit from him either. You just met his eyes, then lowered your gaze and looked away from him again, over at the twins. Jessica waved to you from across the table, while Maude spoke.

“Why did you leave,” she didn’t ask, but demanded. “We woke up. You were gone.”

“The floor isn’t super comfortable,” you said, putting on a slightly exaggerated frown. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s ok,” Jessica said, but before Maude could comment, Karen and a few of the ranch hands’ wives began carrying over food, pitchers of juice, and serving. Karen gave you a look, taking in the sight of you already seated, and pursed her lips, but sat down in her seat across from Gator and waited for Roy to lift his hands to say grace.

As always, you kept your face angled down and only moved to place your hands in Bowman’s and Gator’s. Bowman’s grip, as always, was firm and sturdy, the way you’d expect someone to shake hands, while it felt like Gator had held your hand differently every single time you’d placed your palm atop his. This time, it was loose again, his hand simply a place for yours to rest, not holding it but just letting it sit on his palm as though it were a bird alighting on a branch. You pulled it back as soon as “Amen” rung out from around the table, and watched as Karen served Roy and the girls, then herself, and then placed the utensils back into the bowl. It was clear what you were meant to do.

Even so, you refused to. You served yourself eggs and potatoes and, to make your point, stuck the serving spoons back into the dishes before pouring yourself juice and then picking up your fork to eat. Karen, Roy, Gator, and even Bowman all stared at you as you began eating your breakfast, leaving Gator’s plate empty.

After a moments’ hesitation, Gator lifted his hand to help himself.

“Stop.”

All eyes—all eyes—at the table turned to Roy, who was focused solely on you.

“Allow me to explain something to you,” he said, looking pointedly at the fork in your hand, plainly meaning for you to put it down. You didn’t, and when you didn’t, Roy looked down at his plate, amused, almost, a cold smile on his face. “Now, what you need to understand is that if I choose to discipline—well, you. Karen. My children”—your heart sank at the thought of Roy hitting either of those little girls across from you—“I do it to teach them something. Instruction.” He smiled just a little wider. “Guidance. Do you understand that?”

You swallowed, thickly, audibly probably, but didn’t acknowledge Roy other than keeping your eyes on his.

“First time, I’ll admit…” He snickered. “You got me, little miss. Caught me off guard. Really, you did it to yourself.” Beside you, Gator tensed, but Roy continued speaking before he could interject, like there was some chance he actually might. “I’m not sure what other choice you thought I might have after you tried something like that. But I digress. I’m explaining this to you so you understand that the next time you try to pull a stunt like this one—not serving Gator here his breakfast, talking back, ignoring or disobeying what you’re told to do—you won’t get a warning. You’ll get a lesson learned on the back of my hand.” He leaned over the table toward you; even Gator flinched a little backward. “Is that sinkin’ in?”

You said nothing—what was there to say? Your cheeks were hot and your stomach was in knots; he’d just threatened you in front of his staff and his family. Even the twins were silent, and yet your only response was to reach your hand out to pick up the spoon you’d stuck in the eggs and pile some onto Gator’s plate.

&&

Neither you, Gator, or Karen spoke during the meal, though the girls were chatty enough, and by the time Roy dismissed the hands and their wives, to let them go about their business out in the fields or the barn or in town, you stayed seated because Gator did, and you didn’t want to incur Roy’s ire more than you already had.

“You’ll be with Karen today,” Roy said, looking at you. “Help with the girls, shadow her as she does the finances. Learn a little bit about caring for a home.” He sipped the dregs of coffee remaining in his mug. “And you,” he said, directing it toward Gator. “You’ll be helping finish the bathroom over in the other house.”

“Dad,” Gator started to say, but Roy spoke over him.

“The sooner it’s all buttoned up over there, the sooner you can move your things in. At least the basics.” Roy stood up, gesturing to you, indicating that now he was speaking to you. “In time he’ll be fully moved in, so I hope you didn’t get too comfortable in there.”

“Don’t worry,” you said, just as cold and bitter as you felt. “I didn’t.”

Roy either missed or ignored your tone and just slid his coffee mug over to Karen, who stood from the table and crossed to the coffee maker to refill it, sliding the carafe out from where it was still half-full and pouring him another mugful. 

As Karen handed him the mug, her free hand curling over his shoulder, Roy continued, “I hope you don’t think Gator will make the same mistake twice.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” you replied, choosing not to acknowledge the way you saw Gator turn to look at you out of the corner of your eye.

“You don’t fuckin’ learn,” Gator said, drawing a frown from you and what appeared to be a smirk from Roy.

“She’s your problem now, son,” Roy said. “Make sure she knows how you deal with ‘em.”

Gator didn’t look away from you, didn’t even react to what Roy had said. You had the wherewithal to understand, at least, that there was something unsaid between the people still left in the room, yourself excluded, and you also understood that whatever it was, it would make itself known when Roy allowed it to be. Keeping you in the dark, keeping you ignorant, was his greatest weapon.

The tension grew thicker each moment that you all sat there, Roy leaning against the back of his chair, nursing his coffee mug, until finally he placed it down half-finished beside his plate.

“Day’s growing long,” Roy announced. “Get to it. I’ll be at the station if you need me,” he added to Karen. And then, to you and Gator: “I can’t wait to see what you do with the place.”

&&

Your first task, while Karen cleaned up the kitchen, was to get the girls ready for the day, after which you joined Karen while she went through bills and wrote out checks and made phone calls and checked on the girls and then sat with them for more lessons, which you’d experienced before, early on in your time here. They didn’t want you to leave after you made them lunch, but Karen was all too glad to see Bowman come collect you once the work was finished on the bathroom, and you had to admit that you were thrilled to get out of the main house and back to the small little haven you’d been given, even though now it was going to house Gator along with you. He’d been acting differently, acting like he wanted you to trust him, but you wouldn’t and you weren’t going to. Ever. He was from here, this crazy fucking place, and you couldn’t trust anyone. You barely even trusted Jessica and Maude not to tell Karen or Roy anything you said, and they were children. All of it going on around you, to you, was making you paranoid.

And Aidy. You just had to hold out hope that no one had found her and that she was still ok after being alone for so long. How could you feed her without Gator knowing? You’d have to sneak her out of the mudroom and upstairs into the bathroom where you’d stashed the milk supplement. God forbid he found the ones you had downstairs in a kitchen cabinet.

The door to the carriage house was not only unlocked when you arrived, but it was fully open. You scowled—that would just be letting cold air in and the heat out. You had half a mind to ask if Gator was raised in a barn, but… well.

Stepping into the house, leaving Bowman outside, you took a look around the living area, glancing into the kitchen. Both empty. 

“Hello?” you called, your voice tight and throaty, worried that he would be in here, worried that he wouldn’t be. It felt like walking into a haunted house, the belly of the beast, a lair where anything could be lurking. But there was no answer.

Emboldened, probably and stupidly unwise, you pulled the front door closed behind you, tired of the chill that it was allowing to permeate the room, and made a beeline for the mudroom and uncovered Aidy from where you’d left her. She began purring as soon as you picked her up, squeaking and meowing and wiggling from inside the towel you’d left her wrapped up in. You held her tightly to your chest, wanting her to not only feel your warmth but to feel comfort, feel security. If you couldn’t have it, at least she could.

It was too risky to mix food and feed her in the kitchen, so you just positioned her against your body and peeked out of the mudroom door, just your head looking down the hallway.

“Hello?” you called again, waiting for an answer, but still, there wasn’t one. 

Where was he?

Holding Aidy close, trying to keep her well out of sight, you bustled past the downstairs bathroom—you'd look at it later, like you really even cared about the way they’d rebuilt it—and hurried into the kitchen. Positioning the cat so she would be out of sight if he surprised you in there, you grabbed a cup and a spoon, then scurried up the stairs. The bathroom on the second floor was right across from the balustrade, and as you rounded the newel post at the top of the flight, you heard shuffling footsteps from further down the hall.

You rushed toward the bathroom, desperate not to be spotted, and glanced over to your right at the last moment. Gator was emerging from the master bedroom just as you passed through the bathroom door.

“Hey,” he said, but you slammed the door shut, hoping that a closed bathroom door still afforded you privacy even with a Tillman in the house. You didn't move from where you stood in the center of the room, cradling the cat, and you heard the floor shifting a little as he approached.

There was a pause, then a couple of quiet knocks. “Hey.”

“I'm a little busy,” you said.

“Yeah, uh—listen,” he said.

“I'm busy,” you said, exasperated and not even faking it.

“A’right. I'll—be downstairs. I wanna talk to ya.”

You said nothing in response, and after a moment you heard him walk away, the stairs creaking as he descended.

Exhaling heavily, you lifted Aidy to your face, pressing your nose and mouth against her before letting her rub against your cheek, and then you deposited her, towel and all, into the sink, turning to face the toilet.

If they'd found it, you would have been punished. If they'd found it, you wouldn't be standing here right now with a hungry kitten depending on you. If they'd found it, you would have known. 

And still, as you reached for the lid to the tank, your hands shook with nerves. If the food was missing, there was nothing you could do for Aidy. Nothing.

The porcelain scraped as you lifted the lid, but the containers were still there, and you could have sobbed with relief.

“Hey, it's ok, Aidy,” you said, quietly, and also to yourself, mostly. “It's still here.”

You checked both containers, wiping them dry with toilet paper, and they still seemed fully sealed and perfectly ok to give to the kitten. Replacing the lid on the tank carefully so as not to alert Gator that you weren't just going to the bathroom up here, you went about mixing some of the milk powder with water from the tap, stirring it thoroughly and then offering it to Aidy on the spoon. She drank it ravenously, and you took a shaky breath. She must have been starving.

Petting her gently with the thumb of your other hand, you let her eat her fill, then watched as she snuggled back into the towel and fell asleep. Before lifting the lid off the toilet tank again, you chanced a look under the sink and were thrilled, actually, to see various cleaning products had been placed there. It appeared to be a lot of what you'd been provided to clean the house, along with extra rolls of toilet paper, some drain cleaner, and various cleaning brushes. You shoved the milk containers into the far back, where Gator would probably miss them—if he ever even went under here at all, which you doubted—then straightened up.

You'd done your work for the day, apparently, because all you'd been told to do was figure out how you (and Gator, but fuck him) wanted to organize the house. As far as you were concerned, he could do whatever the fuck he wanted with the furniture as long as he stayed out of the smaller bedroom that you'd claimed for yourself. Rubbing your face with both hands, you turned to the mirror, looking at your reflection. You looked the same, you guessed—it had been a couple of rough weeks, but you were proud of yourself for holding up. The bruise on your eye was fading, but it was a sickly green, turning from the purple it had been previously, with some yellow stretching down your cheek and up near your temple. You stared as long as you could, but then had to turn away—it was making you sick to your stomach, the thought that Roy had done that to you and no one had even seemed to care, much less think twice about it.

A thought struck you—and only part of it was you trying to delay having to go downstairs to talk to Gator. You stripped your clothing off, turning the water on in the shower, and watched as it ran brown for a couple of minutes as it heated up. This house, somehow, actually had hot water. You could have laughed—you hadn't taken a warm shower since you'd been brought here. Once the water draining out of the bottom of the tub was clear, you stepped in, realizing after you did that there weren't any toiletries there, no shampoo or soap but you didn't fucking care. The water was hot and your skin thrummed as it beat down against you. You ran your hands over your body, grinning as you closed your eyes and held your face beneath the spray. It felt like the water was cleansing you, even though you couldn't slough off anything without soap.

The water ran over you for a long time—long enough that your fingers turned pruney and your body felt numb with the sheer temperature of the shower. Steam had filled the room—you could see the mist hovering above you, and when you turned off the water and drew the curtain to the side, the air was viscous, thick, and without the hot water cascading down onto you, you felt a little chill.

There were no towels in here either, other than the one Aidy was wrapped in, but you didn't fucking care about that either. That shower was one of the first things you'd done without permission on this ranch that wouldn't get you in trouble. And that felt freeing.

&&

After practically leaping from the bathroom into your small bedroom to tuck Aidy away and dress yourself, you hesitantly walked downstairs with your hair dripping onto your shoulders. You'd found, upon opening the closet, that all of the clothes you'd had in the main house were hung or folded neatly for you, and the clothes that you'd arrived in were there too. Your jacket. Your own boots, not the workboots you'd been given.

You tried to remember that this was not a kindness, it was undoubtedly a manipulation to make you trust them, because they'd given you your own property back.

You grabbed a hooded sweatshirt and a pair of jeans, pulling on thick socks as well, then returned to the first floor. Gator was in the kitchen, sitting at the table, clearly waiting for you. He had his phone in one hand, scrolling, and was tapping each fingertip in turn onto the table. He looked up at you as you walked into the kitchen.

“Home sweet home, huh?” you asked.

Huffing a sigh, he locked his phone, set it down on the table, and then gestured to the chair perpendicular to him. “Sit.”

You didn’t move, just watched him.

He watched you back, the scowl fixed to his mouth, and then kicked the chair out by one of the legs, his foot against it, skidding it across the floor. “I said, sit.”

A beat. Two. Stretching into a long moment. Then, you said, “No.”

Testing the waters. Testing him. You saw the irritation flick across his face, but just as quickly his expression turned impassive again.

“Fine,” he said. He kicked his feet up onto the chair that he’d moved away from the table, crossing them at the ankles, and looked up at you. “We need t’set some ground rules.”

“Like what?” you asked. “You’re here to watch me. What could I do?”

Gator continued as though you hadn’t spoken. “Y’ain’t gonna try t’run again. Y’ain’t gonna make me look fuckin’ stupid like that again.”

“You made yourself look stupid,” you said. “You left the door unlocked.”

“You know you ain’t s’posed ta go out.”

You looked at him like he was the dumbest fucker on the planet. “Yeah, because your dad is holding me fucking hostage. I’m not supposed to go out because I’m a prisoner. Jesus Christ, you’re even dumber than you look.”

Gator tensed, you saw him, but he managed to keep himself steady in his chair. “Now, you listen,” he said, and his voice was shaking with the effort of remaining seated, you could tell. You’d touched a nerve. “This could all go one’a two ways. Either you listen t’me ‘nd mine, ‘nd maybe yer time here ain’t so fuckin’ bad. Or, you keep talkin’ back and learn”—each word thereafter grew louder, angrier, so much so that you took half a step back with each syllable he spit out—“every fuckin’ LESSON the goddamn HARD way. So you tell me, girly—which sounds better to ya?  Huh? The easy way, or the way that ends the way y’don’t want it t’end?”

“You think I’m scared of you?” you asked.

“Oh, no,” Gator said, and with that, his boots hit the kitchen floor again and he stood up, but he didn’t make his way over to you. He just stood at the table, his hands leaning onto it as he bent slightly at the waist, lowering himself to look at you on your eye level. “I don’t think yer nearly fuckin’ scared enough.”

“And you care? What, now it bothers you?”

Gator’s lip curled up on one side, half grimace, half smirk. “You think I like this? Bein’ made t’play babysitter to a little uppity bitch who won’t behave?”

“Don’t blame me because you can’t remember the one thing you’re responsible for on this fucking ranch,” you said. “You had one job and you fucked it up. I guess locking a door is too complicated for someone who’s had everything handed to him since day one by Daddy.”

“And now I’m locked in here with ya,” Gator said, “so watch who yer fuckin’ talkin’ to.” He straightened up, rounding the table to step closer to you. “You ferget real easy, missy, I came ta get y’outta here. Brought ya food. Set the goddamn time for ya.” You rolled your eyes exaggeratedly, because the bar was literally below sea level and he still couldn’t find his way over it. “Only thing y’got between you and Roy is me.”

“Oh, right, I’m your problem now,” you said.

“Problem is fuckin’ right,” he said. “Any bullshit you pull reflects on me. ‘Nd the harder it is fer me around here, harder it gets fer you. Y’wanna act like y’got a fuckin’ sense’a self-preservation, look the fuck around ya.”

You studied him, keeping silent, because he was saying a lot more than he realized—or maybe he was giving you information without explicitly giving you information. Intentionally. Covertly.

“Is that why you do whatever he tells you?” you asked, a little quieter now, though you were still angry.

“We ain’t talkin’ about me,” Gator said. “We’re talkin’ about you, ‘nd how things’re gonna be now that we’re in this fuckin’ house together.”

It was your turn to continue as though Gator hadn’t spoken. “Why don’t you just—leave?”

And Gator—he did the same, both of you having a one-sided conversation at the other. “Yer gonna listen, startin’ now. Yer gonna do the work they give ya, shut the fuck up, ‘nd come back here at the end of the day.”

“We could both go,” you said, trying to speak over him. “We could—you have to know who the crooked cops are, right? The ones your dad has in his pocket. Find a good one who can help us.”

“There ain’t no us,” Gator said, voice very nearly cracking. “There’s me, and there’s you, and you gotta learn to listen to me. Get it? That’s how this shit works.”

“And then what? Hm? I just wither away and die on this ranch?”

Gator snickered. “If I’m lucky.”

“Fuck you,” you said. “Fuck you, and fuck this place, and fuck your dad for making you think this is how you have to be. You know it’s not like this out there, right? Off of this—dirt farm? I know you, you go—you go into town or the city or whatever. You see normal people. You see how—the world actually is. What did he do to you? To make you think this is right?”

Gator stepped closer, his boots heavy on the checkered tiles. “See, that’s just the thing. The world’s exactly what he says it is. Fuckin’ people out there—you—can’t see it. He got it all figured out. Cracked it. He knows what’s right, ‘nd that ain’t always the law, the written law. The law of the land’s what he follows.” He looked down his nose at you. “‘Nd those laws ain’t always pretty.”

You held his gaze for as long as you could, but finally, you turned away, shaking your head.

“Givin’ up?” Gator asked, as you moved away from him, back to the couch where you’d slept for several days. Where Gator had insisted he was trying to help you after Roy hit you. You didn’t answer his question, and you heard him snicker. “That was easy.”

“Fuck you,” you said again, half-heartedly, and he didn’t answer you but you did hear his footsteps approaching as you sunk down onto the couch.

“Gave my old man such a hard time, but y’just give up, just like that? Thought y’had more fight in ya.”

“I thought you did too,” you said, and given the silence, you could tell you’d thrown him.

“Fuck’s that mean?” he asked after a beat.

“Half the time you’re acting like you sympathize. The other half you’re your dad’s little soldier. Now you’re…whatever the fuck you’re being now. What, did he tell you you could do whatever you want with me in here as long as you convince me to behave?” You turned to look at him, at the indignant frown on his face, the way you could tell he wanted to be contrary but had no words to refute yours. “You made me ice. And now it’s, ‘this is how things are gonna be with us in this house together’ and ‘you’re gonna listen to me starting now.’” 

You let your eyes move over him, his shoulders, stretching the jacket that he’d offered to you. His wrist, twisted by his father when he defied him because you had first. His eyes, that had actually almost looked pained when you’d slapped his hand away from your face the first night you’d spent in here. 

“You didn’t know he was going to make you come in here with me, did you?” you asked.

Gator didn’t reply.

“So what changed between then and now, that you’re all big and tough and making demands?”

He held your gaze, his lips a thin line. “How ‘bout we don’t ask each other questions," he said, and the tone and inflection, despite the phrasing, let you know he was telling.

“Only if you think about the answers to what I already asked you,” you said. “Are you just having a tantrum because he punished you?”

“I ain’t havin’ a tantrum,” Gator said dismissively.

“You didn’t know, you obviously aren’t happy—and you’re not even trying to change his mind. He broke you and now he wants you to break me, is that it?”

“You don’t know what yer fuckin’ talkin’ about,” he said.

“You just can’t see it. Or you don’t want to.” You looked up at him from the couch, and his demeanor had shifted, from the asshole who’d come in hot to the man plaintively trying to get you to just listen. 

“Ain’t nothin’ t’see,” he said, dismissively.

You scoffed. “Keep telling yourself that.” You turned back around, staring into the corner of the room, waiting for him to leave or go upstairs or better—outside, locking you in with your solitude, which you’d come to realize you’d been taking for granted.

“You, uh,” he said, and despite yourself, you tipped your head a little, betraying that you were listening because you didn’t want to even acknowledge him. “You really only 21?”

Taking a moment to internalize the question, you shifted yourself on the couch to look at him, your elbow pressing into the cushioned arm as you turned, an unamused smirk set on your lips. “Not yet.”

“You’re 20,” he said, and his expression, which you could tell he was fighting to keep unreadable, looked troubled. You wondered which version of him was the real one: This man, or that monster.

You bit back the gibe about being proud that he could do simple math and instead just shrugged. “Does he tell you anything?”

Gator opened his mouth, closed it, and looked toward the front door, the afternoon sun shining in through the window. “When he wants me t’know it, yeah.”

“Yeah,” you said, voice low, and the afternoon ticked slowly by as you both spent the rest of it in silence.

Today's response was silence. Karen simply kept walking, with you in tow, up onto the porch and then inside the main house. She showed you to the bathroom, like if she let you out of her sight, you'd make a break for it—and you probably would.

“You can dress in your old bedroom,” she said, pointing down the hall to the room you'd occupied for the first few nights you were on the ranch. “I have clothes set out for you.”

You chose silence and just stepped into the bathroom, closing and locking the door behind you. The shower didn't get much warmer than the sink, and you washed yourself as quickly as possible while still being thorough, shampooing the odor of hay out of your hair, scrubbing the smell of sweat and labor and several days' sleep off your skin. You couldn't stand staying under the cold spray for longer than you had to, and so you shut the water, dried off, then wrapped the towel around yourself and opened the door just a crack, expecting to see Karen standing there, waiting for you—or worse, Gator or Roy. You hadn't seen either of them since the incident (or the morning after, in Gator's case), and you'd prefer to keep it that way until you were forced to be with them again at dinner.

Padding quietly down the hall, past Gator's bedroom door which was, thankfully, closed (and hopefully unoccupied), you returned to the room you'd spent several nights in. Your phone was still on the bedside table where you'd left it, but there was a floral dress left out on the bed, with a white cardigan to layer over it. You frowned, because why the fuck would you wear something like that to dinner when the only other person who ever wore anything similar was Karen herself and, sometimes, some of the other wives, if and when they joined the group for dinner. You weren't aware that you'd transcended being a prisoner and were starting to be treated as a guest. They could've fooled you.

Your other clothes had been removed, and while you might have considered it another time, you had just showered—you really didn't want to put the clothes in which you'd mucked out horse stalls. So you picked up the dress, holding it up and frowning. You dropped it back onto the bed in a rumpled pile, turned and closed the bedroom door behind you, rolling your eyes at the loud squeak as you did, and then set about readying yourself to cook dinner downstairs. You put on the undergarments that Karen had provided as well, feeling a little uncomfortable at who, if anyone, they might have belonged to before you, but they were clean and smelled like detergent, so. You dressed in silence, stepping into the flowy dress. It had a line of buttons all down the front, which you fastened in order from bottom to top. The skirt was longer than you'd normally choose for yourself, and you almost were grateful. You were already uncomfortable enough in the dress to begin with, so a shorter skirt would have made things even worse.

Karen hadn't provided you with any shoes, so you decided to pull on a pair of socks and the boots that you'd been wearing when you'd arrived at the ranch, which would look particularly ridiculous with the dress but might provide you with a sense of comfort and home, especially since you were still feeling a little out of sorts after your foray into feeling normal again the previous night when you were heating up your spaghetti.

Maybe that wasn't so bad. Maybe it was a way for your anxious, constantly zooming mind to cope with everything that was going on.

You tightened the laces of your boots and tied them, then pulled on the cardigan you'd been given as well, and trudged downstairs.

Karen was waiting for you with an apron, so as not to dirty your dress, and you dutifully tied it on in silence, trying not to speak to her more than you had to as you followed her instructions, stirring rice and dumping frozen vegetables into a pan to heat up and cook through.

Without her yelling at you, even with her scolding you about wearing more “respectable shoes” and snapping orders about how much butter to mix in with the vegetables and how much seasoning to add to the pan, it was almost peaceful in terms of your experience with the Tillman ranch. Karen was dealing with the roast while you simply manned the burners, watching the rice and vegetables until she came over to inspect everything and instructed you to go set the table.

You'd long since learned where everything was, and since the amount of food you were making was clearly for far more people than just you and the Tillman family, you pulled out enough plates to set place settings at the full table, followed by cutlery. You were setting out glasses when the ranch hands started filtering in, some with their wives and some without, and Karen disappeared for a moment to go grab Jessica and Maude. You felt what seemed like every pair of eyes in the room on you, in your floral dress and combat boots, as you scraped the rice into a serving dish and carried it over to the table. Just as you were returning to do the same to the vegetables, a heavy set of footsteps, the gait of which you recognized, entered the room, and most of the conversation stopped. You glanced over your shoulder to see Roy standing in the kitchen doorway, his eyes settled perfectly on you.

“Well, now,” he said, gesturing to his staff to take their seats. They did, and the chatter started again as Roy clomped over to you. You busied yourself with spooning the peas and carrots into a bowl, trying to hold the pot steady as Roy approached you. He walked right up to your side and leaned over the counter, enough that you saw him clearly, not just in your periphery.

“Quite a bruise you got there, little miss,” he said, and you swallowed, said nothing. “I gotta say. I, for one, would hate to see a beautiful girl like you all... marked up like that a second time.” You just spooned more of the vegetables into the bowl, taking your time so as not to spill, but in hopes that maybe he would leave you alone and you could finish what you were doing in peace. “Now, I need you to understand something.” You didn't react, just kept on transferring the vegetables from the pot.

With no warning, Roy's thumb was pressing against your jaw, his other fingers tucking beneath your chin to grab it, and you dropped the spoon into the serving bowl, almost dropping the pot too. You weren't sure if the kitchen quieted down or if it was just your heart beating so loudly in your ears that you could hear only it and Roy's voice, low enough that you had to pay rapt attention to hear him clearly. “I said I need you to understand something. If you misspeak, misbehave, or mistreat any more of my family or my staff, you won't be answering to me. Any of them know they can treat my livestock as they need to, to calm them down or get them back in line.” His thumb brushed across your lower lip and you felt the insane urge to bite his finger. He leaned closer to you. “Is that understood?”

You nodded—or tried to, but he was holding you so tightly you couldn't.

“I'm getting' real tired of asking you questions more than once,” he said. “Is. That. Understood?”

“Yes,” you said, clipped.

Roy didn't release your chin, nor did he move.

“Yes, Sheriff,” you said, because that had to be what he wanted.

His eyes shone with something like victory, but he released you and let you get back to what you were doing. Shaking, you glanced over your shoulder to see that everyone else at the table was waiting for you—Karen had returned with the girls and placed the roast in the center of the table, and as Roy took his seat, you saw that Gator was present too, looking over at you. As your eyes met his, he looked away, answering something that Roy had asked him in hushed tones.

You upended the pot over the serving bowl, scraped the last few stubborn carrots out of the pot, and carried them over to the table, dropping them unceremoniously and earning yourself a glare from Karen that you simply couldn't bother caring about. You lowered yourself into the seat beside Gator, not missing the way his eyes swept over you in the dress, the way your skirt fluttered up a little higher on your thigh than you'd have liked, and thankfully you had enough time to smooth it down before you had to take his hand for grace.

It was cold, like it always was, but this time when you held it, it didn't feel like he was doing it just because it was mandatory, because he had to. He cradled your palm in his gently, and that alone made you want to pull away from him prematurely, want to rid yourself of his contact because there was nothing he could do to make you believe that he really was, in his own words, trying to help you.

Once Roy finished leading the table in prayer—during which you remained silent and stone-faced—Karen began serving the roast to the men first, while you helped pass around the side dishes. You ate in silence, like you always did, listening and observing. Or, you tried to.

The story about the barn cat had spread amongst the hands, and suddenly, you were the focal point of the evening, with men you'd never spoken to before asking you questions about the kittens, where you'd found them, how many there were—which you could answer—and what had happened to the stillborn babies—which you couldn't.

You answered them as best you could, trying not to meet their eyes because you wanted to keep distance from as many of these motherfuckers as you could, and looking at them while speaking to them was a surefire way to make a connection that you did not want. Nor did you want them to somehow glean that there weren't only seven kittens, there were eight, and you had the sole survivor hidden in the carriage house at this exact moment.

Thankfully, while the conversation stayed on the cat—they were no longer engaging with you, and you were able to continue your meal without distractions from what you actually sort of wanted to listen to: Roy and Gator.

It sounded like a lot of the same shit: Looking for “her”—with no new leads, and it sounded to you like a waste of time. It was clear that this was a repetitive topic because Karen had turned away and was talking to her girls, while Roy seemed frustrated with Gator's lack of news.

“If you're not going to get it done,” Roy was saying, “I'll send Bowman.”

“I can do it,” Gator implored him. “She—” he looked at you, saw you watching their conversation, and turned back to his father. “She ain't gonna stay hidden forever.”

“Enough,” Roy said, silencing him, then looking past Gator to you. Gator turned to look at you as well, the two of them studying you, though Gator's stare felt less intense. Roy held your gaze, saying nothing, until you averted your eyes and looked back down at your plate. You'd listened to them talk before, yes, but never so brazenly, never so clearly paying attention to what they were discussing.

Their conversation continued after that, just going over regular policework now, things that had come across Roy's desk that he was handing off to Gator, having him and the other deputies follow up. It didn't hold your interest—not the way that this mystery woman who they were desperately trying to find did. Part of you wondered if it might be Gator's mother, but you'd never ask, and you'd definitely never get an answer if you did.

The table emptied gradually, some of the workers leaving before Roy dismissed them, and it was only when Maude threw a handful of rice at Jessica did Roy decide it was time for the girls to get their bath before bed. Karen took hold of Maude's wrist, wiping the residual grains that were sticking to her palm with a napkin, and then ushered both of them down from their chairs, parading them upstairs to the bathroom.

You stood from the table and began clearing the empty places, piling dishes in the sink and scraping the vestiges of meals into the trash, before you heard Roy snapping his fingers at you and you turned to look.

“Kid's gonna take ya back to the carriage house. Get goin',” Roy said, nodding to Gator.

You hesitated, placing the dish you were holding in the sink. Normally—at least for the four days you'd been present at dinner—you cleaned up afterward. You didn't want to question Roy, but you felt like this was a trap.

“Don't I... need to clean up?” you asked, gesturing at the sink and the table.

“You'll be doing plenty'a cleaning tomorrow,” Roy said cryptically, leaving you to wonder what he was talking about, and then he stood from the table.

Gator did as well, watching blankly as Roy picked up both of their plates and crossed the kitchen to reach you where you were standing in front of the sink. You backed away as Roy neared you, but all he did was put the plates on top of the others and then look at his son.

“Get goin', boy,” he said, and Gator looked plaintively at you, jerking his head to the side for you to follow.

“But I—” you said, cutting yourself off as Roy lifted an arm, clearly intending to backhand you across the face. You shrank back, pressing against the counter and flinching in anticipation, but he only lowered his hand and chuckled.

“See that?” he asked, and you weren't sure if he was speaking to you or to Gator or to the other ranch hands in the room. “That's a smart woman. Who knows what's comin' when she sees it and shuts up when she realizes she doesn't want it.” He leaned in closer to you. “I told you before, if you misbehave, it's free rein to straighten you out. Think on that.”

You took a shaky breath in, your eyes flicking to Gator, who was watching with that same blank expression that he had used when he had you cornered in the carriage house bathroom. But that wasn't what caught you up—it was that Roy had used the same phrase Gator had, though Gator's was much less of a threat. Or at least, a threat in a different way.

You stepped around Roy, the soles of your boots scuffing the kitchen tile, and you staggered to Gator's side and past him, not bothering to go up to the bedroom for your jacket, just making your way to the front door. Gator's shuffling footsteps followed you, hurrying to keep pace as you fumbled with the doorknob and let yourself out into the cold evening air. The sudden chill had you worried for Aidy, but you didn't want to give anyone cause to suspect that things were anything other than the status quo.

“Y'ok?” Gator asked, like his father hadn't just raised a hand to you. You remained silent, clutching your arms in each opposite hand, crossed in front of you to try and stay warm against the late winter air.

“Just—he ain't kiddin', about that... free rein shit. He told 'em all, if ya put a toe outta line, they can crack ya one if they want. He wants—wants ya, I dunno.” He hesitated. “Ta listen.”

Obedient, is what he should have said. Pliant. You supplied the words that he wouldn't or couldn't think of. Broken.

“It'd be better fer you, fer all of us, if you just—did what he said. Quit talkin' back 'nd shit. And especially don't swing on 'im again.” He cleared his throat, then spat a mouthful of saliva onto the dirt. “Lucky ya only got one back. Never stopped at one fer me.”

You looked over at him, eyes narrowed, as you reached the front steps of the carriage house. Whatever he was trying to do—connect with you, or make you trust him, form some kind of a bond—you weren't falling for it.

You took a breath to speak, and Gator looked to you with such anticipation that you almost stayed quiet, but you didn't want to stand out here any longer in the frigid air, with Aidy waiting to be fed just feet away from you. “Can you let me in? I'm freezing.”

Gator huffed a sigh, hesitating just another beat, but pulled a keyring out of his pocket and unlocked the door for you, opening it and holding it for you as you stepped up and inside.

The cold air continued to seep in as he held the door open, and you turned to look back, still hugging yourself to try and keep warm, the night time wind blowing in past him and ruffling your skirt around your legs.

Gator opened his mouth, eyes tracing down over your body from your face, and then just as quickly, shut the door, the lock clicking as it turned back into place. You stood still, waiting for him to leave, but you didn't see him move past the window for a long few moments, until you caught sight of him trudging away in the moonlight.

His attempts to be kind to you only made you hate him more.

The night of November 12th, 1983, or maybe it was the early hours of November 13th, your friend Will Byers had finally been found after spending a week trapped in a dark, alternate dimension you and your friends had dubbed ‘The Upside Down’.

You were 13 now, the oldest of the party (beating Lucas by a whole 4 months), and Steve was 17.

After you had spent the night chased by government agents, and evil scientists and literal monsters, and after you had watched your new friend Eleven – El – die.

You and your friends had been cramped into the hospital waiting room, hoping to see Will when he woke up. Lucas and Dustin had been passed out, leaning on each other, and your head was on Dustin’s shoulder as you slept too.

Steve Harrington was also in the waiting room, sitting between a snoring Ted Wheeler and the door. His face was bloody and bruised as he stared at a blank spot on the floor ahead of him.

At this point in time, you didn’t know Steve. You knew of him, that he was a douchebag high schooler, that people called him ‘King Steve’, and that he was dating your friend Mike’s older sister, Nancy.

That night is when you think you met Steve Harrington for the first time.

You didn’t see him very often after that, maybe a few times at the Wheeler household when he was hanging out with Nancy and you were there to play D&D in the basement with your friends, sometimes you’d both be seated at the dinner table, but that was about it.

You didn’t really care about Steve then, he was just some guy – an asshole – who was dating Nancy, and nothing else.

That is, until the beginning of November, 1984. Just days after Halloween, after meeting Max Mayfield for the first time, and after Will’s episode on the field at the school.

You’ve always been closer with Dustin and Lucas than you have been to Mike and Will. In fact, out of all of them, you always considered Dustin to be your best friend.

That might be why you answered his code red that morning, while Lucas went out to try and recruit Max, the new girl, into your party. You were all for Max joining your party, you thought she was cool, and it would’ve been nice to have another girl around.

You ended up helping Dustin scrub blood out of the shag carpet in his bedroom, and helped him bury his now-dead cat after Dart, the slug-like creature Dustin had found in his trash, had turned out to be a baby Demogorgon.

Nobody else was answering the call, so you and Dustin headed to the Wheeler house to try and find Mike, or maybe even Nancy, but neither of them were home.

And when the two of you turned away from the front door to head back to your bikes, Dustin muttering obscenities under his breath, you watched a familiar BMW pull up outside the house.

Enter Steve Harrington. Again.

A bouquet of roses in one hand, running the other through his perfectly styled hair, now walking across the Wheelers’ front lawn and towards the door.

Was it fate? No, just convenient timing, but the next night your perception of Steve Harrington would entirely change for the rest of your life.

You had watched him walk down the steps to Dustin’s cellar, nail bat gripped in his hands, and your first thought was that you hadn’t realized how brave Steve Harrington actually was.

And the next day you had followed him down a set of old rail road tracks, dropping chunks of raw meat onto the ground and listening to him giving Dustin horrible advice on girls. At one point, he had even turned back and asked for your opinion, only for you to totally disagree with what he was saying, but he brushed you off like it was nothing.

Soon, once Lucas and Max had joined you in the junkyard, the five of you set up an old bus as your base of operations, and after that you were hiding inside.

Lucas and Max were up on the roof, keeping watch, Dustin was pacing angrily; he was mad about Lucas telling Max everything and letting her tag along, and you were sitting on one of the old bus seats with your arms crossed to your chest, watching Steve flick his lighter open and closed.

He was cool, you could admit that now. Sure, he still seemed like a douchebag, but after spending literally all day with him, you had come to find Steve wasn’t as bad as you had thought.

And he was kind of… cute. He had nice eyes, and a nice nose, and the moles littering his face were just the cherry on top. And not to mention his ridiculous, but somehow attractive hair that you had recently learned he styled with Farrah Fawcett’s hairspray. Plus, he was charming.

He looked up at you, catching you staring, and gave you a smile. Your eyes darted down immediately, face heating up quickly out of embarrassment of being caught.

“You good over there, kid?” He asked, calling out across the bus. You just nodded in response, avoiding his eyes.

That nickname would stick around much longer than you’d have liked.

And once Dart and the other Demo-dogs had started to arrive, and they weren’t taking the bait, Steve tossed his lighter to Dustin, telling him to “get ready,” and you watched him go outside with that nail bat, using himself as bait.

“He’s insane.” Max had stated, and you had silently agreed.

“He’s awesome.” Dustin had said with an awestruck expression, and for some reason you agreed with that too.

Dustin had clearly begun to admire Steve as a kind of role model, while in that moment, as you watched a number of Demodogs surround him swing at the monsters after you and your friends, you were beginning to admire Steve in a different way.

When he had run back to the bus, several Demo-dogs were right on his tail, and you had all screamed at him to run faster until he was eventually launching himself into the bus.

He pushed you all to the back of the bus, away from the monsters clawing at the door, and you were the one to make it to the ladder at the back of the bus, and the moment you looked up at the hole and saw a Demogorgon looking down at you, you screamed loudly.

“Out of the way! Out of the way!” Steve had yelled and Max yanked you back with her own shriek of fear, having seen the monster for the first time. Steve forced his way in front of you all, pushed you behind him, and raised the bat threateningly, ready to swing at the Demogorgon again. “You want some?! Come get this!”

And in that moment, right there in that rusty old bus, you fell in love with Steve Harrington.

He had jumped in front of you with nothing but that nail-studded baseball bat to protect you all, he had pushed you behind him like it was nothing, like it was easy.

For the rest of that night you were practically glued to his side, not close enough for him to notice, but lingering close enough that he was always nearby. Whatever room he was in, you weren’t far behind him.

From your walk to the lab, where you met up with Nancy and Jonathan, and soon after Chief Hopper, Joyce, Mike and Will, all the way to the Byers’ house, where you discovered that Will was possessed by the shadow monster he had seen and was somehow connected to the monsters, like a hive mind.

You and your friends made the connection between the shadow monster and the Mind Flayer, which Dustin then explained to the rest of the group, and soon after you, Dustin, Lucas, Max, Steve and Nancy waited inside while the others tried talking to Will in the newly disguised shed.

You sat on the couch, watching Steve as he practiced swinging his bat in the middle of the living room. You tried not to stare, really, but your newfound crush was hard to ignore. But then, awkwardly, you glanced over to Nancy.

Right, she was Steve’s girlfriend. Or… ex-girlfriend now? You weren’t sure, but all you knew was that you immediately felt guilty and you cast your eyes down to stare at your shoes instead.

When the Byers’s phone rang not once, but twice, and Nancy ripped it from the wall and threw it across the room, everything got hectic immediately.

The others came rushing back inside from the shed, weapons were distributed, and as Steve raised his nail bat, he pushed you behind him again so you were standing beside Dustin.

When the dead Demo-dog came flying through the window, shattering the glass, you all jumped back, and when El walked through the front door, relief flooded through your body immediately.

Her hair that had once been shaved was now slicked back, she was wearing dark clothes, converse and cuffed jeans, and had dark eye makeup on her face.

And when Hopper took a yelling Mike down the hallway to Will’s room after it came out that the Chief had known where she was for the entire last year and hadn’t said a thing to anyone.

But then she walked over to you, Dustin and Lucas, hugging the boys first and even touching Dustin’s teeth, which had only just grown in, before she walked over to hug you next.

“I’ve missed you so much.” You told her and she hugged you tighter.

“I missed you too.” She said before pulling back and smiling. 

Max stepped forward to introduce herself, giving a polite smile and holding out her hand, but instead of greeting her back, El brushed her off and walked away, towards Joyce.

Max turned to look at you, hurt evident on her features, and you watched El walk away.

“Did I do something wrong?” Max whispered to you and you frowned.

“I don’t… No, I don’t think so.” You told her and pat her shoulder.

Then soon after Hopper and El left to close the gate, and Will was taken by the Byers’ and Nancy to try and separate him from the hive mind, which left you and the rest of your friends alone with Steve once more, which was fine until Billy showed up.

Billy Hargrove was Max’s older step-brother, and he was a total piece of shit. Steve had gone outside to try and get him to leave, and Billy had just shoved him to the ground before bursting through the door, but instead of going for Max, he went for Lucas.

You and your friends were all shouting at Billy to stop as he slammed Lucas against the wall, threatening him, telling Lucas he was “So dead.”

And that’s when Steve stepped in and punched Billy, and for a moment things were looking up. Until they weren’t and Steve ended up getting his face pummeled in by Billy, who Max knocked out a moment later with a needle of whatever Hopper had used to knock Will out earlier.

“Shit, shit, shit, what do we do?” Dustin exclaimed, looking down at the two unconscious 18-year-old boys lying in the middle of Joyce Byers’s living room.

“We have to get to the tunnels,” Mike decided immediately. “To help El.”

“What about Steve?” You spoke up, gesturing down to him and his swollen face.

“What about Steve?” Mike repeated, giving you an unbothered look.

“Well, we can’t just leave him here, Mike, look at him.” You pointed out, and the five of you stared down at his bloody face, bruises already blooming on his skin beneath the red liquid.

“She’s right.” Dustin backed you up immediately. “Besides, he just saved Lucas, we can’t just leave him here for Billy to probably murder when he wakes up. Or what if he chokes on his own blood or some shit?”

Mike groaned loudly, rolling his eyes and looking down at his older sister’s ex? boyfriend. “Fine, whatever, we can bring him.”

“Yeah, but how are we even going to get there? It’s not exactly like we can just walk to the farm.” Lucas asked and Max spun on her heels quickly, walking over to Billy and digging through the pockets of his jeans before pulling out his car keys.

“I’ll drive.” Max said, holding the keys up and dangling them from her fingers.

“What? No!” Mike scoffed. “You can’t drive!”

“I’ve driven in a parking lot before, and I can guarantee that’s more than any of you.” She pointed around at the rest of you. “Besides, Steve clearly can’t drive because he’s practically dead.”

Dustin took off running down the hallway.

“Dude, where the hell are you going?” Lucas yelled after him.

“I’m getting medical supplies!” Dustin had shouted back.

You and Dustin were stuck cleaning up Steve’s face to the best of your abilities while the others scrambled around the house, collecting items they said you needed to go into the tunnels and light the ‘hub’ on fire.

Mike made a map based on the drawings taped to the walls, you all put pairs of gloves and masks in the trunk of Billy’s Camaro before you and Dustin hauled Steve into the backseat.

The car was extremely cramped, Max taking the driver’s seat, much to Mike’s chagrin, and Lucas took the passenger seat beside her to navigate with a map of Hawkins.

You, Dustin and Mike squashed into the backseat, and Steve was pulled between you and Dustin, though he was mostly lying on your laps due to the lack of space. At the time you had been extremely thankful that the car was dark, because your face was burning just due to the minimal contact.

After that, the night faded into a blur of chaos. Steve woke up, screaming frantically about Max driving, sounding so terrified that you were surprised he didn’t jump out of his skin, while Mike snapped at her from the backseat. Dustin was doing his best to comfort Steve while Lucas shouted directions at Max over the noise, screaming at how sharply she turned the corner into the farm.

You were frozen in your seat, stiff as a board, because in his panic Steve had grabbed a hold of your arm and now your heart was beating a mile a minute.

Then came the tunnels, dark, slimy, filled with spores from the Upside Down, and monsters from the very same place. Once you had made it to the hub with little-to-no trouble and doused it in gasoline, Steve tossed in his lighter and lit the place up.

You all raced back to the exit while Demo-dogs chased you all down the tunnels. Steve had lifted Max, Lucas and Mike up and out of the hole before the monsters came bounding around the corner, heading right towards you.

Steve’s arms wrapped around you and Dustin instinctively, and you had squeezed your eyes shut out of fear for your life.

The Demo-dogs just ran right by the three of you, and once they were gone, you all let out relieved breaths.

“You okay, Henderson?” Steve asked, patting Dustin on the shoulder and he nodded. Then he looked at you. “You good?”

Steve hoisted Dustin up first, and Mike and Lucas pulled him up and out of the hole. Then Steve turned to face you. 

“Alright, your turn, kid.” He had said, and all you could do was nod before Steve was grabbing your hips to help lift you out of the hole, and butterflies had swarmed in your stomach.

You felt ridiculous. All this for some stupid crush on Steve Harrington? You had to be out of your mind.

Surely it must’ve just been because of the situation over the last few days, and once everything went back to normal, you’d see Steve less and this crush would fade, right?

Wrong.

Suddenly, Steve was everywhere. Since his breakup with Nancy (which you had confirmed a couple weeks later when Will mentioned something about her and Jonathan definitely being together) Steve clearly had a lot of time on his hands, because now he was always hanging out with Dustin.

And because Dustin was your best friend, that meant you saw Steve a lot more than you would’ve liked. And that crush didn’t fade, not even a tiny bit.

By the time December of 1984 rolled around, Hawkins Middle School’s annual winter dance, the Snow Ball, was here.

You had been excited for the dance for weeks, it was an excuse to go out and dress up with your friends for a night, and maybe you hoped a boy would ask you to dance.

You had seen Lucas and Max grow closer, and Mike and El seemed to have something going on, and you wanted something like that too. And, besides, a boy your age asking you to dance might’ve helped you get rid of this stupid crush on him.

But it turned out that the boys at the dance weren’t the people you should’ve been worried about, because not even five minutes after you had arrived, feeling good about yourself and excited to see your friends, Stacey Albright cornered you.

–

Steve watched Dustin walk into the gym with an unfamiliar sense of pride; the smile that sneaks its way onto his face shows as much. He watched Dustin talking with Mr. Clarke, like a proud big brother, before his eyes betrayed him, his gaze slipping past Dustin and landing on Nancy.

Nancy, his now ex-girlfriend, was inside the gym, volunteering at the middle school dance because that’s the kind of person she was.

Steve’s eyes softened, but the smile he had had already disappeared from his face. He only stared for a moment, just a couple of seconds, before he forced himself to start the car and drive away so he could spend the next couple of hours alone before he had to come back and pick Dustin up.

But Steve only drove a few feet away before he stopped again, because as he turned to drive around the side of the gym, he spotted you.

You were sitting on the curb in your dress, knees brought up to your chest, and from where Steve was it looked like you were crying. Steve’s brows scrunched at the sight, why aren’t you inside with the others?

Steve parked not too far away before exiting his car, brushing his hands on the front of his red sweater, before he approached you.

Your eyes were glued to the ground in front of you, your shoulders shaking as your body was wracked with sobs, your chin buried in your arms that sat atop your knees. The sight made Steve frown.

“Hey, kid.” Steve spoke up and you jumped, your head snapping up so quickly Steve thought you were going to get whiplash. “Sorry– didn’t mean to scare you. What are you doing out here?”

You shrug half-heartedly, looking away from Steve and down at the ground, sniffling as you brought a hand up to your face, rubbing your eyes.

“I’m fine.” You told him and Steve let out a snort.

“Yeah, I’m not buying it.” He dropped down onto the curb to sit beside you, and your eyes went wide as you watched him do so. “What’s going on?”

“It’s dumb.” You muttered, still avoiding his eyes.

“It can’t be that dumb if it’s got you out here crying instead of being inside and having fun with your friends.” Steve pointed out and you sighed, still not looking at him. “Come on, kid, talk to me. What’s wrong?”

“Just… some girls.” You mumble, and Steve’s frown etched itself deeper into his face. “They were saying stuff.”

“What kind of stuff?”

You didn’t reply, instead you crossed your arms across your chest and curled further into yourself.

“Sometimes I just wish I was normal.” You said, and Steve paused.

“You are normal.” Steve said and you scoffed.

“No, I’m not.” You stated. “I’m a weird nerd and I’m ugly, and my dress looks ugly and no boys are gonna dance with me, I shouldn’t have even come to this stupid dance.”

For a moment, Steve didn’t know what to say. He knew how to talk to the boys, because he used to be a 13-year-old boy, but you? That was some new territory for him. But he found the words soon enough.

“Don’t listen to those other girls, they’re just jealous.” Steve stated. You immediately opened your mouth to protest, but Steve cut you off. “You’re way cooler than those other girls. You’ve fought interdimensional monsters.”

“You did most of the fighting.” You mumbled, but Steve waved you off.

“That’s besides the point.” He said. “If those other girls are being mean to you, they’re just lame.”

“This dress is lame.” You muttered back, flicking at your skirt.

“No, it’s not. You look pretty.” Steve complimented and you finally looked over at him.

“You really think so?” Your voice was quiet, but your eyes were wide and locked onto Steve as your tear-stained cheeks flushed.

“Very pretty.” He told you with a nod. “Too pretty to be sitting out here and crying while all of your friends are inside and probably wondering where you are.”

“But what if nobody wants to dance with me?” You asked Steve, tears still brimming in the corners of your eyes. “That’s what Stacey said would happen.”

“Well Stacey sounds like a bitch.” Steve stated bluntly, causing a giggle to escape your lips. “And if no boys want to dance with you, it’s because middle school boys are dumb.”

“I can’t wait to go to high school.” You said, and Steve chuckled.

“Yeah, well, high school boys are pretty dumb, too.” He said with an exhale, gesturing to himself. “But trust me, kid, one day you’re gonna find some guy who loves you for all those things you don’t like about yourself, and those girls are probably never gonna find something like that.”

“What makes you so sure?” You asked Steve, more curious than anything, but still soaking in every word.

Steve just shrugs. “Because you deserve it.”

You stared at him for a moment. You had stopped crying by now, and Steve took that as a small victory as you gave him a small smile.

“Thanks, Steve.” You sighed and Steve stood up, offering you his hand.

“Come on, let’s get you inside to your friends.” Steve said and you took his hand and let him lift you to your feet. You brushed off your skirt, frowning as you wiped your cheeks, and you nodded.

But you didn’t even make it around the corner before you froze at the sound of Cyndi Lauper’s Time After Time flooding out from the gym.

You spun around to face Steve again.

“I can’t do it. Nobody’s gonna dance with me.” You stated. “I don’t even know how to dance.”

“It’s easy.” Steve shrugged, then he offered you his hand again. “Come on, I’ll show you.”

“Steve, you don’t have to.” You told him, eyes full of panic, but he brushed it off.

“I need practice before prom anyway, if anything you’re doing me a favor.” He said, making you chuckle. “Here, put your hands on my shoulders.”

That night Steve Harrington became the first boy you had ever danced with, in the dark Hawkins Middle School parking lot in the middle of a cold December night.

That night you also knew you were completely screwed, and no boy your age would ever stand a chance, because you were absolutely head-over-heels obsessed with Steve Harrington.

–

The new year came quickly after that, and with 1985 came a brand new mall in Hawkins called Starcourt Mall, and after you and your friends officially finished middle school you were all spending almost every day of the summer there.

Well, all except Dustin, who went off to summer camp in the beginning of June. But the rest of you were spending your days outside riding your bikes or going swimming in the day before heading to the mall in the evenings.

And your favorite part of each trip to Starcourt, by far, was when you’d visit the little ice cream shop, Scoops Ahoy. Sometimes it was just for a snack, and sometimes it was to sneak into the movie theater for free.

The reason didn’t matter to you, because you were just happy to see Steve. He had gotten a job at Scoops Ahoy for the summer, which meant every time you went there, he was standing behind the counter in a cheesy sailor’s costume that he somehow still looked good in, hat and all. You were sure your face had flushed with heat the first time you had noticed his chest hair peeking out from beneath the shirt of his uniform.

There’s only one thing you didn’t like about seeing Steve at Scoops Ahoy, and that’s when he flirted with almost every girl his age who crossed the counter. He didn’t score a single date, not in that uniform, but it still hurt.

It made you wish that you were just a few years older. It made you think, if I was his age maybe he’d actually return your feelings.

And the thing was, Steve didn’t have a clue.

He greeted you casually, smiling at you or rolling his eyes like he did with all of your friends. A part of you was upset, but another part of you knew it was for the better. 

Steve had just turned 19 that June, and you were turning 15 in September. He had graduated high school, and you were only just about to start when the summer was over.

Realistically, you knew it wouldn’t work, and you knew it would be just weird if Steve actually liked you back at that point, but it still felt like a curse.

–

The night before Dustin came home from Camp Knowhere, you and your friends wanted to go see Day of the Dead, which meant you had to sneak in. And sneaking in meant seeing Steve.

It’s not that you purposefully dressed up just because you’d be seeing Steve for what was probably one minute at most, but you might’ve been dressed just a little bit nicer than usual for a trip to the movies with your friends.

Of course, you, Lucas, Max and Will all ended up waiting outside the mall for Mike to arrive from his usual daily visit to El at Hopper’s cabin, which meant your friends had plenty of time to analyse your outfit–specifically Max.

“Why are you dressed up?” She asked you suddenly, cutting off Lucas and Will’s complaining about Mike’s tardiness, and you scoffed.

“I’m not, these are my regular clothes.” You weren’t exactly lying, but you weren’t telling the whole truth either.

Max’s eyes narrowed at you, but Lucas shrugged from beside her. “I think she’s dressed normally.”

“Thank you.” You said to Lucas, but Max just raised an eyebrow.

“Right.” She nodded slowly, and a moment later Mike arrived.

“You’re late.” Lucas had stated with crossed arms as Mike jumped off off his bike.

“Sorry!” Mike replied, but he didn’t seem to mean it.

“Again.” Lucas emphasised.

“We’re gonna miss the opening.” Will added.

“Yeah, if you guys keep whining about it.” Mike said as he put his bike in the bike rack. “Let’s go!”

“‘If you guys keep whining about it. Nyeh-nyeh-nyeh.’” Lucas imitated Mike and you had snickered.

Then as you walked through the mall, Lucas complained about and mocked Mike for spending so much time with El and not the rest of you. It made you and Will laugh.

As you and your friends pushed your way down the escalator and towards the food court, bumping into a bunch of people as you went, your stomach began to flip with excitement.

You all made it to Scoops Ahoy and Steve was nowhere to be seen, instead his co-worker Robin was behind the counter. You thought Robin seemed cool, from what you had seen she was funny, sometimes a little blunt, but you liked her. You just hoped Steve didn’t.

Mike smacked his hand down on the bell on the counter several times, despite the fact that Robin was right there. She sighed and called out, “Hey, dingus, your children are here!”

And then the window on the back wall slid open and there was Steve in his sailor uniform with a scowl on his face as he looked over your group.

“Again? Seriously?” He asked, but instead Mike just rang the bell once more. He groaned, but ushered you all over.

He held the door to the back room open for you all, Mike and Will entering first, then Lucas and Max, and you were pulling up the rear. You smiled up at him as you passed him.

“Hi, Steve.” You greeted quietly and he sighed, but put on a smile.

“Hey, kid.” He said, letting the back door swing shut before he headed to the front of the group to open the door to the delivery tunnel out the back. He peered out through the peephole to make sure nobody was around before ushering you all out the door and into the hallway. “Come on. Come on.”

While your friends all pushed in and walked ahead, you gave Steve an appreciative smile. He didn’t pay any mind, instead just looked pretty stressed out as he called out after you all.

“I swear, if anyone finds out about this–” He would say the same thing almost every time, because he was worried about losing his job, but he knew your friends wouldn’t give up until he let them through.

“We’re dead!” You all chorused and you waved to Steve before following your friends down the hallway.

Steve closed the door with a heavy sigh and walked through the Scoops Ahoy back room before he made it behind the counter again, only to find his co-worker Robin already staring at him with an amused smile.

“Oh, what now?” He groaned and she chuckled.

“That little girl has a crush on you.” Robin stated and Steve stopped in his tracks, his blue Adidas sneakers squeaking against the tiled floor.

“What? Who, Max?” He asked, confused. “I’m pretty sure she’s actually with Lucas again right now, so you’re definitely wrong.”

“Is Max the redhead?” Robin asked and when Steve nodded she sighed. “Well, I’m not talking about her, I’m talking about the other girl.”

Steve said your name, and now looked even more puzzled, his brows drawing inwards as he looked at Robin. “No, she doesn’t.”

“Uh, yes, she totally does, dingus.” Robin chuckled, shaking her head. “God, you really are oblivious.”

“Um, no, those kids all see me as, like, I don’t know… A babysitter, older brother type, you know? I’m their friend.” Steve explained, like Robin was maybe just missing something. She was completely unaware of the trauma bond that had formed between the group over the last two falls. “She doesn’t have a crush on me, okay? She probably just thinks I’m cool.”

But, of course, Steve was wrong and Robin was absolutely right, because you did have a crush on Steve, which is what Max had been making fun of you for quietly as you walked through the delivery tunnels.

“You totally have a crush on Steve!” She had whisper-shouted to you at the back of the group with a giggle and your cheeks flushed with warmth.

“No, I don’t.” You lied. “Shut up.”

“That’s why you got all dressed up!” She realized and you shot her a glare.

“Shut up, Max, before the others hear you.” You hissed and she snickered.

“I knew it.”

When you had successfully made it into the theatre, you had split off to the few empty seats in the room. Max and Lucas ended up in the row in front of you, Mike and Will

The movie had been fine, except for the fact the power had cut out completely only a few minutes in. But it wasn’t just in the cinema, it wasn’t even just Starcourt Mall, it was the entire town of Hawkins.

When the power came back and the movie continued to play, the entire theater cheered before falling back to a regular silence and the rest of the night went on just fine. Completely normal, unlike the rest of the week would turn out to be.

–

The next day you and your friends surprise Dustin at his house once he returns from camp, and Lucas ended up with hairspray in his eyes.

Finding out that Dustin had somehow scored a girlfriend he deemed ‘hotter than Phoebe Cates’ in his three-week-long science camp was a shock to not only you, but the rest of your friends too.

But that wasn’t as much of a shock as what you and Dustin heard on his super radio, which he had named Cerebro in a true X-Men fan fashion.

You had all spent the entire afternoon lugging Dustin’s radio equipment up the tallest hill in Hawkins, one your friends called Weathertop, because he wanted to introduce you all to his girlfriend, Suzie.

But as the day turned into night and Suzie was nowhere to be heard, your friends had slipped away one-by-one. First Mike and El, who had ditched you before even making it up the hill, then Lucas and Max who left once nightfall had hit. Will stayed the longest, but once it started to get too late he left too, suggesting you all play Dungeons and Dragons the next day.

You stuck around, mostly because you had noticed the way Dustin had seemed to deflate as each of your friends left, and you wanted to know if his girlfriend was real or not.

“Guess it’s just you and me, huh?” Dustin had said and you just nodded at him in the dark as he repeated the prase, “Suzie, do you copy?”

By the end of the night you still hadn’t heard from Suzie, but you and Dustin had somehow intercepted what sounded like a secret Russian communication. Which led you to Scoops Ahoy the next day.

Dustin, of course, had wanted to see Steve and complain about how everyone else had ditched him the night before, but he also wanted to recruit him because overnight he had somehow gotten the idea that if you were to translate the Russian phrases he had recorded off the radio, you’d all become ‘American Heroes’.

The thing is, though, Dustin wanted to tell Steve all of this alone, which meant while they were talking in a booth in the back corner, you were leaning against the front corner, shooting them glances.

Robin was behind the counter, serving customers and wiping down benches, while also watching you. And after calling out to Dustin, making fun of Steve, she turned to you.

“So…” She said your name and you looked up. “That’s your name, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.” You replied and she nodded.

“Cool. So, uh, how long have you had a crush on Harrington over there?” She asked and your cheeks immediately flushed with warmth. Your fingers pinched at the chain of the necklace hanging from your neck, fiddling with the charm.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You lied. 13-year-olds aren’t the best at lying, and Robin very clearly saw right through you. “He’s, you know, old. And dumb. And hairy.”

Robin snickered and you looked down at your shoes. “Right.”

“I would never like him, okay?” You defended weakly.

“Like who?” Steve’s voice came from behind you and you froze, eyes going wide.

“Nobody.” You muttered and he raised his eyebrows. Dustin’s eyes locked onto yours and he stared you down like he was trying to read your mind. “Seriously, nobody.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, kid.” Steve teased and Robin glanced at you with amusement evident on her features. Then he nodded for you to follow him and Dustin to the backroom of Scoops Ahoy.

That’s where you spent the rest of the day, translating Russian phrases that seemed to be utter nonsense. Not a single word seemed to correlate with one another, and yet you had ended up translating a few sentences anyway.

Then, as you left Scoops Ahoy that night, you had all debated whether or not ‘The week is long, the silver cat feeds when blue meets yellow in the west,’ was a secret code of some kind.

And then Steve worked out that the music in the background of the recording, something the rest of you had chosen to ignore, was in fact coming from a mechanical horse from inside of Starcourt Mall.

Then Robin left on her bike, while Steve waited in his car, watching to make sure you and Dustin were alright riding your bikes home.

When you were gone, riding your bikes side by side, Dustin spoke up. He offered for you to stay the night at his. He knew you didn’t want to go home, not to your parents who fight every night. You took him up on the offer.

The next day, you and Robin sat around at Scoops Ahoy trying to crack the entire code you had finished translating while Steve and Dustin searched the mall for any signs of ‘secret Russians’.

You sat cross legged on a countertop in the back room, the straw of a milkshake between your lips while Robin mumbled the same words over and over, staring down at a notepad.

Robin cracked the code that same day, and that night was the night you found the secret room in the back of the mall, guarded by what your group had now confirmed to be ‘Evil Russians’.

But, of course, finding the room wasn’t enough and then you needed to find a way in, and after Robin bought blueprints to the mall and roped Erica Sinclair into the mix, you made it into the secret room the next night.

Upon opening a box that was labelled for the mall’s Chinese restaurant, you all found something that absolutely wasn’t Chinese food. Once Steve had pulled out a glass cylinder of some kind of mysterious, green liquid, the secret room had began to move.

That was when you found out the room was an elevator.

The next couple of days were a blur. You were all stuck in that elevator overnight, you had to spend the night listening to Steve and Robin talking the entire time while your chest burned with jealousy.

But the rest of your time in that dark, underground base was worse. So much worse.

You had spent almost all day walking down a painfully long hallway, arguing about the design of the base, who was and wasn’t a nerd, and whatever the hell that mysterious, green and acidic liquid was. There was even one small moment where you, Dustin and Steve had all shared looks and debated quietly whether or not the Russians knew about the Upside Down.

Then you made it to the main part of the bunker which was crawling with soldiers and scientists. You made it up to the comms room and watched Steve fight and successfully knock out one of the Russian soldiers.

While Dustin celebrated and Steve smiled proudly, pushing some of his floppy hair away from his face, you had struggled to tear your eyes away from him. That was, until Robin found something at the top of a set of stairs.

It was a giant machine, and that machine was opening a gate. A gate to the Upside Down.

You couldn’t even explain anything to Robin or Erica because a moment later the five of you were sprinting down hallways and running around corners while Russian soldiers chased you until Steve and Robin had yelled for the three of you to leave them behind and escape into the vents.

You, of course, had been extremely hesitant. You didn’t want to leave them, and neither did Dustin, but they were busy trying to hold a door shut and get the rest of you out of there to follow you.

Erica went in first, then you had forced yourself to follow her before Dustin joined you in the vents and you crawled away having to listen to the sound of yelling in Russian behind you, because Steve and Robin had been caught.

Your time in the vents might’ve been worse than the elevator or the hallway, because now you were terrified. You had no idea if Steve and Robin were okay, or even alive. You had no idea where you were or how to get out of the bunker. 

While Dustin explained everything to Erica, about when Will went missing and the Upside Down, and the two had an entire long conversation about My Little Pony, you were silent, only chiming in a few times to add to Dustin’s story. Erica had believed it all, except for the fact that Lucas was there, which was apparently hard for her to believe.

Once you had made it out of the vents and found Steve and Robin, they weren’t in the best condition at all.

You had gasped upon running into the room to find his face beaten black and blue, blood coated his face and his uniform and his eye was swollen shut. Robin looked better, shaken but unharmed for the most part.

Dustin had taken out the doctor in the room and the three of you had hurried to untie the older teens. The only issue was that Steve and Robin weren’t acting right.

They were giggling, a little hyperactive, whispering to one another, laughing hysterically at things that weren’t even funny, and just acting nothing like themselves.

You were the one to come to the conclusion that they were drugged once you were all back in the elevator, this time heading up. You had just watched Steve tumble to the ground after pretending he was surfing on some kind of delivery cart.

Dustin had checked and found his pupils were dilated and his eyes were a bright red. Though neither of them would give any of you a straight answer.

After getting out of the elevator, you had made it maybe ten feet away from the doors before two Russian guards were running towards you.

“Shit!” You and Dustin had yelled and shared a look before ushering Steve and Robin towards a door by your side.

“Why are we running?” Steve questioned and you had grabbed onto his arm to pull him into the delivery tunnels you would use to sneak into the cinema, and despite everything going on your stomach had fluttered at the contact.

Hiding in the cinema was easy. There was a late night showing of Back to the Future playing and you had forced Steve and Robin down into front row seats. You, Dustin and Erica had found more seats, but a moment later you and Dustin had headed up to the projection room with his walkie to try and get into contact with any of the others.

Luckily, you had managed to get into contact with Mike.

Unluckily, you had barely been able to tell him anything before the audio cut out and Dustin’s walkie ran out of battery.

He turned to face you with a desperate expression.

“Do you have yours?” He asked and you shook your head before pausing. “What about more batteries?”

“Wait–” You had realized and your face lit up as you met Dustin’s eyes. “I think my walkie is still in the backroom at Scoops.”

“Does it have battery?” He questioned you.

“I mean, it should do. It hasn’t been used in like a day.” You pointed out and Dustin shrugged. “Do you think we’d be able to get down to Scoops without getting caught?”

“Do you know the way through the tunnels?” He asked and you nodded.

“You have no idea how many movies Steve has sneaked us into, dude. Yeah, I know the way.” You stated before you both jumped up and hurried back down to the front row to find Erica.

The only issue was that now Steve and Robin weren’t in their seats.

After some searching, you had found them in the women’s bathroom, sitting on the dirty floor of the same stall, facing each other and laughing.

While Dustin scolded the pair for running off, you were trying your best to push down that disgusting feeling of jealously that swirled in your stomach.

The rest of the night was a mix of running from both Russian soldiers and a giant flesh-like version of the Mind Flayer, arguing with the rest of the group once you had all reconvened and shared what you had each discovered. 

There was blood, you had to hold El’s hand tight while Jonathan had sliced her leg open looking for something that had been moving inside it. There had been singing, when Dustin had somehow come into contact with his girlfriend Suzie and you and Erica just had to sit on the grass beside him and watch. There had been fire, after the others had used fireworks to attack the Mind Flayer they had unintentionally set the entire mall on fire.

And there had been tears, because when they were down in that Russian bunker to close the gate that had been opened, Hopper had died. And Max’s step-brother Billy had been killed by the Mind Flayer right in front of her.

But, for the most part, everyone was okay. Some bloodier than others, some suffering a little more trauma than before, but okay.

Once he had gotten his keys back, some American soldiers had recovered them from the Russian base, Steve had driven you, Dustin and Robin back to his place.

The Harrington house was large, and empty. Steve had made some excuse saying it was to make sure the drugs wouldn’t kill him and Robin in their sleep, saying something else about how he had accidentally given the Russians Dustin’s full name, but you had a feeling he just didn’t want to be alone, not after everything that had happened.

The four of you had crashed in his living room, Steve covering the sofas and large wooden floor in a collection of pillows and blankets before you all practically passed out, sleeping in until late the next afternoon.

–

El and the Byers’ moved three months later, not long after you all started high school. Saying goodbye to your friends before they moved to California wasn’t easy for any of you, especially not for Mike, but you all pushed through.

High school was different. You, Dustin, Lucas and Mike had a rough start, but soon you joined a D&D club called the Hellfire Club, led by a senior named Eddie Munson.

Eddie was great, despite being older than most seniors due to being held back for several years. He was cool, he was funny, he had a band and he loved D&D.

Steve, unlike the rest of you, didn’t like Eddie very much. He would make vague comments here and there whenever Dustin mentioned him in passing, or when Mike talked about Hellfire, or when Lucas told him a story while the two practiced basketball.

High school was very different from middle school. While, at first, you and your friends had fallen into your usual places at the bottom of the food chain, that didn’t last long for some of you.

Lucas had made it onto the basketball team, though he had been riding the bench all year, which had already given him a bit of a boost when it came to terms of friends. 

Mike and Dustin didn’t seem to care about popularity, rather embracing the fact that you were all nerds and geeks thanks to Eddie’s ‘guidance’.

Max still sat with you guys sometimes, hung out occasionally, but she had started to isolate herself from everyone. She had been struggling mentally, mostly due to her step-brother’s death, something she only ever told the school therapist and, well, you.

You weren’t quite sure what had happened to you in high school, or what had happened to your peers, because the bullying from other girls had diminished, and now they actually talked to you in the hallways, or sat with you in class, or paired up with you for projects.

It was different, but it was nice.

Though, sure, there were still times where they’d judge your friends, or some of your interests, like D&D, but you’d much prefer they make fun of the fantasy game you played with your friends than make fun of you.

Your first year of high school started off fine, great even, up until Spring break.

That’s when shit really hit the fan.

The last day of school before break was the last day of the Hellfire Club’s D&D campaign against the cult of Vecna, but it had coincided with Lucas’s basketball game. You had wanted to go and watch, but Eddie was already pissed enough that Lucas would be missing Hellfire, and you didn’t want to get on his bad side.

So you instead recruited Erica to be his substitute for the night, though you felt bad for missing your friend’s game, especially when you found out he not only actually had a chance to play, but had scored the team’s winning shot.

But the break itself was worse.

Mike had gone to California to visit El and Will, while you, Dustin and Max spent the first day of your break finding out that a Hawkins High student, Chrissy Cunningham, was found murdered at the trailer park Max lived in – specifically in Eddie’s trailer.

But Eddie himself was nowhere to be found, Max had seen him fleeing the scene in fear the night before, speeding out of the trailer park faster than she had ever seen him drive before.

So, of course, you, Dustin and Max had ended up in Family Video, where Steve and Robin had been working since about October, since the Byers’ had left town. 

Your group debated on whether or not Eddie was capable of murder, Steve being the only person to really think he was, while proceeding to use the three phones inside the video store to call Eddie’s friends in an attempt to track him down.

You were helping your friends, of course you were, but you couldn’t help but sneak longing stares over at Steve as he ‘attended to the customers’, and flirted with any girl his age that walked through those glass doors.

But you pushed down those feelings of jealousy and disappointment you had grown familiar with and did your best to focus on the task at hand. 

Still your eyes would betray you and flick towards Steve every so often, taking him in. The way his green vest stretched over his shoulders, the chest hair sticking out from the open top buttons of his polo shirt.

You’d watch him drag his hands through his hair in some kind of pathetic attempt to impress a girl who turned out to have a boyfriend and mourned the fact that you’d never be able to have him.

Eventually your friends managed to track Eddie down to the house of a drug dealer named ‘Reefer Rick’, and once you found him there, wide-eyed, shaking and terrified, Eddie told you all about what had happened with Chrissy.

How she seemed to be in a trance, how she floated into the air with her eyes rolled into the back of her head. How each of her limbs snapped and broke violently before her eyes popped from her skull and her body crumpled to the ground right in front of Eddie.

You, Dustin and Eddie then noticed the similarities between Chrissy’s trance and being under a spell or a curse. Specifically, Vecna’s curse. The same dark wizard you had just finished fighting in your Hellfire campaign.

You and your friends spent the next days doing your best to keep Eddie hidden from the police, bringing him food deliveries when you could, while also doing whatever research you could to find out what, or who, Vecna was, and why he was going after Hawkins High students.

After the second murder, a boy from the school paper named Fred, Nancy Wheeler joined your small group and you had to pretend you weren’t jealous whenever Steve looked her way, his eyes softening. When he practically jumped at the opportunity to go with her to follow a potential lead, only to end up pissed off when Robin went with her and he was stuck ‘babysitting’ you, Dustin and Max.

But then you found out Vecna was going after Max next, and suddenly everything was scarier. When you watched her float into the air just moments after Lucas had slipped her headphones over her ears, you thought she was going to die.

You had grabbed onto Steve’s arm out of fear, staring up at your friend as you all screamed her name, begging for her to come back down to the ground and out of that trance she was stuck in.

And she did, Max fell to the ground with the rest of you and Lucas cradled her shaking body in his arms, holding her close to his chest as she struggled to catch her breath.

After Nancy and Robin found out that Victor Creel’s family might’ve also been killed by Vecna, and Max had seen an old, broken house when she was in Vecna’s mind, your group went to the old abandoned Creel home to search for clues.

After Max found an old grandfather clock identical to the one she had seen in her visions, and Steve had suggested that Vecna could’ve been a clockmaker, you all split off into groups to explore. Robin and Nancy went together, Max and Lucas, which left you with Dustin and Steve.

Steve didn’t seem too thrilled, letting out a loud sigh and complaining about always being grouped with Dustin.

It made you frown, disappointment flooding your body. First you had been watching him make eyes and flirt with Nancy for the last couple of days, and now he was acting like being grouped with you and Dustin was a chore.

You were quiet as the two boys argued, Dustin quoting Sherlock Holmes and Steve not understanding a word before Dustin wandered off, and you followed behind.

Nobody really found anything in the house, but at one point while crossing the upstairs hallway you caught a glimpse of Steve and Nancy standing a little too close together while she smiled up at him. That was enough to dampen your mood for the rest of the night.

You knew it shouldn’t have mattered, there were more pressing issues going on at the time – like the fact Max had almost died and Eddie was being framed for murder – but you just couldn’t shake the jealous feeling away.

That night, after your flashlights had all blown up, you spent the night staring at the ceiling and replaying the way Steve had looked at Nancy over and over again.

It had just made you feel ridiculous. You needed to move on, find someone your own age, someone who could actually return your feelings and give you that love you craved so much. So you decided that you would, that tonight was the last night you would care about Steve Harrington and after that he would go back to being nothing more than a friend.

And then you saw him the next day, wearing that yellow sweater with a wide smile on his face, offering you Pringles in the back of Nancy’s station wagon, and you tried so hard to ignore the way your stomach fluttered when his big, brown puppy dog eyes met yours.

The fact that Vecna had killed another teenager – a boy from the basketball team named Patrick – the night before helped keep you distracted, but when you and your friends were walking through the woods in search of Eddie, following Steve and Dustin as they argued while leading you all to ‘Skull Rock’, you were left alone with your thoughts.

Of course, it wasn’t that long before Steve had found Skull Rock and began rubbing it in Dustin’s face that he was right and your best friend was wrong and you had found Eddie.

While Eddie ate the food you had all brought for him and he recounted the previous night’s events, including when Patrick was lifted into the air in the middle of Lover’s Lake and had each of his limbs snapped one by one, Dustin paced back and forth while staring down at his compass.

That was, until he yelled out a very loud, “Boom!” That echoed through the woods before he pointed at Steve. “Bada boom.”

Steve, naturally, was confused, as were the rest of you, before Dustin began spouting off about how Skull Rock was North once more, which made Steve roll his eyes before he started to argue back.

Then Dustin told you all that Skull Rock in fact was North, and his compass had been leading him in the wrong direction, which then made him point towards you and Lucas, making you recall a piece of information you had learned back when you were 13 and had just learned about El and the lab for the first time.

“Do you guys remember what can affect a compass?” Dustin had asked, and it was like a lightbulb had gone off in your head.

“An electromagnetic field.” You and Lucas both answered, like the memory of that information had just resurfaced for the first time in years.

While the others in the group were confused, you were starting to understand what Dustin was getting at. There was likely a gate somewhere nearby, much like when your compasses had deflected towards the lab back in 1983.

The rest of the afternoon was spent following Dustin and his compass through the woods as the sun set and darkness fell over Hawkins, and eventually his compass had started going totally beserk and he started running.

Eddie managed to grab him by the shoulder and stop Dustin from falling right into Lover’s Lake, which was where the compass had led him, which meant the gate was likely somewhere… inside of it.

The older teens all ended up on a rowboat with Dustin’s compass, leaving you, Dustin, Lucas and Max on the shore, watching them with a pair of binoculars.

“Wait, wait, wait. They’re stopping.” Lucas said suddenly, holding the binoculars to his eyes while hitting Dustin in the chest. “What are they stopping for?”

Dustin scrambled for his walkie. “Guys, what’s going on? Come on, guys, talk to me, what’s going on?”

You and Max had been standing off to the side, a little further back, whispering to each other, but your attention had been stolen once the boys had started to speak.

“Uh, Dustin, your compass has gone from wonky to wonky with a capital, ‘ahh!’” Robin’s voice crackled through and you had sighed, disappointed that you were all sidelined and forced to stay on the shore.

A few more silent moments passed before Lucas let out a disgusted groan.

“Ugh. When’d Steve get so hairy?” He asked and Max’s head snapped towards you with a wide smirk on her face, making your cheeks heat up as you whispered for her to stop.

“Right? I keep telling him he needs to tame that jungle, but he claims the ladies dig it.” Dustin explained and the boys each made a face before you stepped forward and reached for the binoculars around Lucas’s neck.

“Pass me those.” You said and he shot you a confused look before you took them right from his hands and peered through them yourself, getting a look at a very shirtless Steve Harrington in all his glory.

Lucas and Dustin shared confused looks for a moment before Dustin made a sound that was half a scoff, half a surprised yelp before asking, “Dude! What the hell?”

You just gave a shrug and watched as Steve dove into the lake, disappearing beneath the cold, dark water, and you handed the binoculars back to Lucas.

However, you and your friends didn’t get to see the outcome of the dive, because only a few moments after Steve dove in, you and your friends were lying on the ground and hiding behind a log because the cops had arrived.

Robin’s voice crackled through on Dustin’s walkie, saying Steve found the gate, but none of you paid any mind as he switched the walkie off and you stayed hidden for a moment more. And in order to keep the cops away from Eddie, Max jumped up and yelled for the cops to follow her.

Of course, you all got caught, and an hour later the four of you were cramped onto the couch in the Wheelers’ living room, surrounded by cops and your parents.

You had shrunk into the sofa at the sight of both your mother and father in the same room, but this time their anger was directed at you and not each other.

After some questioning, where you all lied in response to almost every question, you explained everything that had been going on to Erica, and she was the one who noticed the blinking light in the dining room, morse code that Dustin translated spelling out S.O.S..

Communicating with Steve, Nancy, Robin and Eddie in the Upside Down using Holly Wheeler’s lite-brite seemed crazy, but what was crazier was sneaking out of Nancy Wheeler’s bedroom window and running away from the cops, Erica popping the tires of the police cruiser before the now five of you rode your bikes across town to Eddie’s trailer.

There was a gate on the ceiling, and Dustin used a broom to break open the red, fleshy gateway to reveal the Upside Down on the other side. A moment later, Steve appeared above you, standing in the same place you were, looking up – or down – at the rest of you. Nancy, Robin and Eddie followed suit and you all waved happily, chuckling at the absurdity of the situation, before you were dragging Eddie’s mattress out of his bedroom to use as a landing pad to help the others through the gate and back to your world.

Except that proved difficult when after Robin and Eddie had crossed over, Nancy ended up in a trance much like Max and the rest of you searched Eddie’s trailer for any music that could help her while Steve stayed with her in the Upside Down, cupping her face and shouting for you all to hurry.

But Nancy got out of the trance on her own, and once she explained to you all what had happened, what she had seen, what Vecna – or Henry Creel, Number One – had shown her, to say you were terrified would be an understatement.

The end of the world. Hawkins on fire, everyone dying. Four gates opening up and spreading across Hawkins, splitting the Earth open.

Hearing that was enough to stop you from thinking about how Steve was sitting just a couple of feet away from you, completely shirtless except for Eddie’s denim vest he had started wearing at some point in the Upside Down.

So your group started coming up with a plan, Vecna wanted to kill four people, so Max would offer herself up as bait. Then, you’d strike.

Naturally, Eddie suggested getting weapons and gear from an army surplus store known as ‘The War Zone’, but it was too far for you to bike there. So Eddie hotwired his neighbors’ motor home and had Steve drive the damn thing there.

Halfway there, you had been sitting at a table in the back with Dustin, but your eyes kept drifting over to Steve driving the RV, and Nancy in the passenger seat talking to him with a soft smile. And Steve would turn and look at her with an expression you could only describe as pure longing, maybe even love.

And he told her a story about his dream for the future, about driving around in a Winnebago with five or six kids of his own, and then he looked at Nancy again. Suddenly you wanted to sink into the floor and never come back.

At the War Zone, you had to stay in the RV with Eddie, Dustin and Lucas as members of the Hellfire Club who were currently being hunted like the Salem Witch Trials, and obviously one of you had been framed for several murders in town. All of Hawkins believed you to be devil worshippers of some kind.

After your friends bought half of the store and then had a brief run in with Jason, Chrissy’s boyfriend, and the other members of the basketball team who were currently hunting you all down – especially Eddie – Steve, now dressed in a leather jacket and a camo shirt, pulled the RV off onto a field where you all began preparing your weapons.

You sat beside Max and Nancy on some old milk crates as Nancy sawed off the end of her new shotgun. Max asked her if it was legal for her to do so, and Nancy replied with something about it being a felony. You were distracted, yet again, by your overwhelming crush on Steve.

He was sitting with Robin in front of the Winnebago, filling bottles with kerosene to make their own flaming molotovs. And you kept glancing his way, then practically staring.

Then, at one point, he looked up and glanced your way. Your eyes darted away immediately and you turned your body to face Max, unaware that Steve hadn’t even noticed you staring because he had been looking at Nancy.

Max chuckled at you and immediately began with the teasing again, some comment about you drooling or making ‘heart eyes’ at Steve. You shushed her, but it was too late because Nancy, Steve’s ex-girlfriend who he had been flirting with over the last several days straight, had heard her.

Your face flushed with warmth and you looked down at your shoes on the grass, then shot Max a harsh glare when you thought Nancy wasn’t looking. But, of course, she still was, and even huffed out a little laugh.

“It’s okay,” She told you, her lip quirking up slightly as she said your name, and your attention was all hers a moment later. “I mean, I was the same once upon a time. Had a big crush on Steve, obviously you knew that because we…”

“Nancy.” You groaned, covering your face with your hands out of embarrassment, and Max had immediately started saying something about you being ‘in love with Steve for like two years’. 

You should’ve been used to her teasing by now, it was stupid and you knew it. It was just some dumb teenage crush. But you had slowly began curling into yourself, your arms wrapping around your body as your thoughts and insecurities took over.

You weren’t sure if it was about Steve, or just about craving that kind of attention. Craving love and a relationship, much like you had seen and heard from your friends.

Max and Lucas, Mike and El, Dustin and his long distance girlfriend Suzie, hell, even seeing Nancy with Jonathan. It felt like you were missing out on something that everyone else was allowed to have.

Your friends were all growing up and getting these experiences you could only dream of, like having a first kiss, or dancing with a boy who actually liked you and wasn’t just trying to comfort you when he found you crying on the curb outside the Middle School gymnasium.

So you lived vicariously through teen romcoms and stories from other girls in school, fantasizing about the moment a boy would actually show that kind of interest towards you. To want you, to love you.

And Steve… Steve was older. He was cool, he was good looking, he was funny, he had that charm you had seen him use to ask girls out on dates at Family Video while you were browsing for the closest thing you’d ever get to a relationship, aka. Star Wars, where you’d watch Han and Leia and sigh to yourself, or some cheesy movie where the guy pines after a girl for years and then finally wins her heart.

But Steve was also the first boy who had ever said that you looked pretty, and he was the first boy who had ever danced with you. And he was the first boy you had ever had a crush on that had lasted longer than a couple weeks.

All of it together was just enough to make you crave it so badly. Crave that experience of a relationship and that feeling of love.

And of course the only boy you had ever really liked had absolutely no chance of liking you back. Not in a million years.

“Can we just drop it please?” You asked and while Max nodded, Nancy gave you a sympathetic look that made you want to crawl into a hole and die.

So that night you were dropped off at the Creel House with Max, Lucas and Erica, and after stepping off of the dead silent Winnebago, you turned back and looked at Steve, eyes full of fear. He was watching you all as you left, and when he saw you looking back, he nodded at you, telling you to go on.

You did. You followed your friends into the creaky, old, crumbling house as the sun set, unaware of just how badly the night would end.

It started off okay, walking around the house only in socks, using lanterns as light and communicating using notepads to avoid making any noise that could potentially alert Vecna to your positions, and soon you and Erica had been hurrying outside as phase 2 initiated, to signal to the others in the Upside Down when you were going into phase 3. 

That’s when shit went downhill, because then Jason and his jock friends showed up. One of the basketballers, Andy, chased you and Erica away from the playground before he tackled you to the ground and pinned your arms behind your back.

You had been struggling against his grip until Erica managed to push him off of you and kicked him right in the balls, and Andy curled into himself, his hands grabbing at his crotch as he groaned in pain.

Then you and Erica had sprinted back into the Creel House, where Jason had headed when Andy went after you. The attic door had been locked once you reached it, but the two of you had managed to break it open and make it up to where Lucas and Max had been.

“Lucas!” Erica called out her brother’s name and you froze at the top of the stairs because Lucas was sobbing on the ground with Max pulled into his lap. Her limbs were snapped, twisted abnormally out of place and sticking out in directions that they shouldn’t, and her eyes were glazed over in a pure white, blood dripping down her cheeks.

Lucas had spun around immediately to face you both, screaming out, “We need a doctor! Call an ambulance! Hurry! Call an ambulance!”

And when Erica had rushed back downstairs, likely to find a neighbor or the closest possible phone, but you were completely stuck in place, staring at the girl you had grown up with, one of your best friends, as she sobbed in her boyfriend’s arms telling him that she was scared and that she wasn’t ready to die.

You were crying, your body shaking uncontrollably as you stumbled over to them, trembling as you dropped to your knees and practically begged her not to slip away.

“Erica, help!” Lucas shouted out, his voice so full of pain that you couldn’t breathe as you sobbed, gripping Max’s hand in yours as you pleaded with her to stay. But it didn’t work. Max died in his arms.

And then the Earth split open, a gate forming and growing. Lucas pulled Max away and you both scrambled to the side, watching as the gate ripped Jason in two and continued to spread further away from the Creel House and through Hawkins.

Then, after over a minute had passed, Max’s heart had started beating again, just enough that she was still alive. But Eddie wasn’t so lucky, he had died in the Upside Down, sacrificing himself to save Dustin.

Three days later, Max was in a coma in Hawkins Memorial Hospital, Mike, Will, El and Jonathan all arrived in Hawkins again, and you were helping Dustin, Robin and Steve volunteering in the post ‘earthquake’ aid and suddenly not having a boyfriend, or your crush not liking you back, didn’t feel like as a big of a deal as it had before.

And, somehow, life managed to return to normal after that. Well, something close to normal.

Hawkins was now under a government mandated quarantine, where the military crawled around every inch of the town, keeping you blocked off from the rest of the world. 

You and your friends were starting your junior year in high school, except for El, who was hiding from the military, and Max was still in a coma and had been for the entire 18 months that had passed.

The crawls were new. Every couple of weeks Hopper would sneak into the Upside Down with the military through the massive gate in the middle of Hawkins, right at the library, and would search for Vecna while Dustin and Steve tracked him from your side and Mike and Lucas kept watch from the nearby church.

But after 18 entire long months, you found nothing. Not even the slightest hint that Vecna was anywhere near, and after over 30 crawls it was like the entire Upside Down had been searched from top to bottom and absolutely nothing was found.

Not until what would be later known as your last crawl, the one where Dustin didn’t show up and you were thrown into the Squawk van with Steve and had to practically beg for Jonathan to come along for ‘help’ when really you didn’t want to be left alone with Steve.

Your crush hadn’t faded, despite the fact that you didn’t see him as often as you used to. Not when Dustin was acting differently and seemed to be avoiding him half of the time. But you listened to the WSQK radio broadcasts every day, mostly for Robin’s DJ-ing and to listen out for any hidden codes about crawls, but also because you knew Steve was the one behind the station’s many sound effects in the background of the broadcasts.

You were now 17 years old, almost an adult, and you hadn’t gotten over the crush on the guy who was basically your best friend’s older brother that had formed back when you were 14. You still had absolutely no experience in anything even slightly romantic, and it was killing you.

But the crawl in the Squawk van had been even more awkward with Jonathan around, because then they argued about Nancy, of course they had, while you sat in the back of the van awkwardly while thinking about Hopper’s signal, which you had lost when the van broke down.

At one point, Steve had spun around to face you, gesturing to Jonathan and asking why you had brought him along because, “Byers is a total buzzkill’. Jonathan had rolled his eyes and called Steve a name, and Steve had mumbled a bland insult back, and it almost felt like you were at home, listening to your parents doing anything but getting a divorce.

Just seconds after Steve had managed to get the van running again, finally, Dustin showed up. His face was completely busted and he had blood leaking from his nose and down his chin.

That just resulted in another argument, this time between Steve and Dustin, while you searched for Hopper’s signal again, only to come up with nothing, other than a strange noise Dustin had brushed off as nothing important because it wasn’t Hopper.

That same night, Holly Wheeler had been taken from her own home by a Demogorgon and her parents had been attacked and had almost died. El had followed the monster into the Upside Down to try and catch up to them and save Holly.

Sometime early the next morning, long after the sun had risen, you had arrived back at the Squawk, where Will then explained that he had a connection to the hive mind again, and to Vecna, and he knew that Vecna was going after another kid from Holly’s class next, a boy named Derek Turnbow.

Mike and Nancy shared the information they had learned at the hospital, that Vecna had stalked Holly long before she was taken, but had appeared as Henry and pretended to be her friend, not someone to be afraid of.

So then you were all coming up with a plan to try and save Derek, and this plan involved drugging and kidnapping the kid and his entire family.

Lucas and Mike recruited Erica, because her best friend Tina was Derek’s older sister, meanwhile you were on the McCorkle farm watching Dustin destroy Steve’s car by affixing the telemetry tracker to the top of the Beamer and crushing Steve’s heart.

You couldn’t help feel bad for him and the way he frowned for the rest of the afternoon, wincing every time he caught a glimpse of the car.

That night, the plan went well. The Turnbow family were all successfully knocked out by the pie Erica made using benzos that Robin and Will stole from the hospital, and while Joyce, Robin, Will and Erica took the family away to the farm, the rest of you set up traps around the house in preparation.

Watching Steve use a chainsaw to cut open a giant hole in the living room floor might’ve been the highlight for you, well, until you had helped him set up a trap outside Derek’s bedroom door using some wood planks, nails and a trip wire. Once the trap had been set, Steve had given you a high five that had genuinely sent a jolt of electricity through your body and a smile etched itself onto your face.

When the Demogorgon arrived in Derek’s room, only to find a dummy in his bed instead, it was your and Lucas’s job to pelt the thing with water balloons filled with acetone so it was guaranteed to catch a flame once Jonathan threw a flare at it.

Once the Demogorgon flipped using a small gate it had made in the living room, Nancy and Jonathan rushed outside to join Steve and Dustin in the Beamer as they chased the Demogorgon, hoping it would lead them to Holly.

Later, when you, Mike and Lucas made it to the farm on your bikes, telling the others about how you saw soldiers loading Debbie Miller and a bunch of other kids Holly’s age onto a bus, Dustin, Steve, Nancy and Jonathan were nowhere to be found because Steve drove his car through a gate and right into the Upside Down.

Will told you all about what he had learned in the hive mind, how many kids Vecna wanted to take, and now the military had all of those kids in one place in an attempt to protect them. But you and your friends knew the only way to really protect them was to get them out of Hawkins and out of Vecna’s reach, which meant it was time to make a new plan.

This time, Robin made it, basing her entire plan on the film The Great Escape. But there were a few key pieces of information you needed. How would you know where the washroom was to know where to dig up from the tunnels below Hawkins? How would you know which kids were even being targeted by Vecna?

Mike’s solution was to send Derek Turnbow, the kid you had managed to save, into the MAC-Z and into the barracks with the other kids.

And the plan had almost worked, until a burst pipe led to you all getting caught before you had gotten all of the kids out and into the tunnels. Robin and Lucas took half the kids to Murray, but the rest of you were captured by the military. 

Of course there was arguing, a fight started to break out after one soldier hit Derek on the back of the head, both you and Mike immediately jumping in to defend him, but everything stopped when Will fell to the ground.

Joyce rushed over immediately while you and Mike stayed with the kids, who were absolutely terrified. Will could sense the hive mind. Demogorgons were coming for the kids. 

They burst through the plates and immediately began attacking the soldiers, who were shooting at them left and right. Gunshots filled the air, echoing through what should’ve been a quiet night, and flames burst around the military base.

You hadn’t really realized how much you had grown up over the last few years until you and Mike were leading the group of kids around the base, protecting them from the monsters, shielding them the same way Steve, Nancy and Jonathan used to do with you and your friends.

But it was all for nothing, because the Demogorgons took the kids in the end. Vecna himself had come through the gate in the MAC-Z and when a blast of flames sent you, Mike and the kids flying back, you were knocked out.

When you came to, Mike was pulling you to your feet, only for you both to flinch back when a Demogorgon jumped towards you.

You had raised your arms to cover your face in a weak attempt at a shield, but no impact was made. The Demogorgon had frozen midair, and how? Will had his arm outstretched towards it, keeping it frozen in the air, using his own powers to stop the Demogorgon.

You were absolutely bewildered, your mouth falling open in surprise, having to blink a few times just to confirm you weren’t still unconscious and that this was actually happening. Mike, on the other hand, was staring at Will in absolute awe. 

Will lifted the Demogorgon into the air and snapped its limbs one by one before snapping its neck, similar to the way Vecna had killed Chrissy and the other teens, and had almost killed Max the year before. When its body crumpled to the ground, Will fell to his knees and wiped the trickle of blood that had formed under his nose.

Beside you, Mike had started to smile. The look on his face wasn’t something you quite knew how to describe at the time, but looking back later, you knew that was a look of love.

Back at the Squawk, the group had to come up with yet another plan to be able to find the others in the Upside Down and come up with a plan, because Lucas was sure Vecna’s plan to end the world was going to take place on November 6th, and that was just a day away.

Both Lucas and Erica came up with two separate plans, Erica’s involved creating a new telemetry tracker and finding Mr. Clarke and getting him to help, while Lucas wanted to Frankenstein one of the dead Demogorgons to link Will back to the hive mind.

You ended up going with Erica and Murray to find and recruit Mr. Clarke to help you, and it didn’t take much once you told him Dustin was in trouble and you needed his help. 

The four of you spent all night recreating the telemetry tracker until you tracked Dustin’s location to Hawkins Lab, though, in the Upside Down. Of course, Mr. Clarke didn’t know that and assumed he had left or something similar.

The others had arrived not long after, and when you saw El, you moved forward to hug her, glad that she was home safe and no longer in the Upside Down, even if Dustin and the others were still stuck.

“Mr. Clarke, thanks for the assist.” Mike spoke, walking forward to shake your former teacher’s hand as you stood by his side again.

“Don’t thank me yet.” Mr. Clarke had replied. “We successfully trilaterated Dustin’s position here, to precisely where I stand now.”

“But by the time we arrived, he was MIA.” Erica continued.

“Well, he wouldn’t be precisely here. He’d be under.” Robin pointed out, crossing her arms, and you nodded along.

Mr. Clarke tilted his head in confusion as he looked at Robin. “Sorry?”

Mike’s head then snapped towards you. “You didn’t tell him?”

“Told me what?” Mr. Clarke asked you.

“It… slipped my mind?” You excused, speaking to Mike, but your attention was stolen a moment later. “Oh, my god.”

“Holy shit.” Erica spoke from beside you as her gaze also landed on Max, who was being wheeled towards you all in a wheelchair, but she was very much alive and no longer in her coma.

“Holy shit.” Max echoed and your face lit up as you let out a surprised chuckle.

“Max!” You hurried over and she grinned as you crouched down to hug her, but the moment was cut short by Murray yelling that he got Dustin’s signal on his walkie and you all rushed down to his level.

After a brief conversation about Holly was shared between Mike and Dustin over the walkies, El ripped up one of the plates covering the rifts in the ground and you all, except for Lucas and Max, went into the Upside Down.

You were all calling out the names of your missing friends while you were trying to take in the fact that you were in the Upside Down for the very first time before you heard Dustin calling out your name, and then Mike’s. You both rushed towards him as he barrelled over.

“Jesus, it’s good to see you guys.” He sighed in relief, throwing his arms around you both and hugging you tight.

As you hugged him though, your eyes drifted to Steve as he approached behind him, standing off to the side from Nancy and Jonathan. It took a moment for you to notice how miserable they looked, and another moment for you to realize that Holly wasn’t with them like you had thought.

Turns out Vecna had pulled her into the literal sky and she had disappeared into the clouds. And you and your friends needed to save her before Vecna likely ended the world on that very same night.

So you all went back to the Squawk to share new information and come up with the final plan to defeat Vecna.

Dustin stood in front of you all with a black marker in hand, drawing on the glass windows of the recording booth as he explained something he had learned in the Upside Down version of Hawkins Lab.

“We’ve always the Upside Down was another dimension opened by Brenner, but it turns out it’s actually a bridge.” Dustin added two long lines to his diagram, representing the bridge. “More specifically, an interdimensional bridge that rips through space-time. It is wildly unstable, but held together by exotic matter, which we found dead center right above the lab. In theoretical physics, they call this type of bridge a–”

“Wormhole.” Both Erica and Mr. Clarke finished in sync, and Dustin pointed at them. You shared a glance with Max, who was sitting beside you in her wheelchair.

“And this wormhole connects Hawkins to here, another world that I’ve coined the Abyss.” Dustin explained.

“Any particular reason?” Robin asked and Mr. Clarke leaned forward in his seat.

“A realm of pure chaos and evil.” He spoke and Robin looked towards him.

“I’m sorry?”

“D&D.” You, Mr. Clarke, Erica, Mike, Will, Lucas and Dustin all answered at once.

“Jesus Christ.” Hopper groaned.

Dustin went on to explain how he believed the Abyss was the true home to the Demogorgon and the Mind Flayer and all of the monsters, and that Henry Creel had been sent there by Eleven years ago, before Dr. Brenner had her find him and created the bridge between the two worlds.

That had explained a lot over the last few years, like why every single crawl had come up empty, because Vecna hadn’t been in the Upside Down, he had been in the Abyss.

Will came up to the conclusion that the reason he was taking kids like Holly into the Abyss was because the minds of children were weaker and easier to mold, like he had done with Will himself, and he was going to use them to amplify his abilities and move worlds. To draw the Abyss and Hawkins closer and merge them together.

Will jumped forward to draw something on Dustin’s diagram and you shifted your body away from Max, who had just been talking, to then face him. In doing so, your arm brushed against Steve’s leg, and you muttered a quiet apology but didn’t look up at him where he was sitting on the back of the couch you were seated on.

Then you were working out a plan to get up to the Abyss to try and stop Vecna before he could draw the worlds together.

After Hopper’s first suggestion of a helicopter, which then resulted in the rest of you telling him that it wouldn’t work, and a rather crude comment about Steve made by Robin that made your eyes go wide, Steve himself was the one to come up with the plan.

He had jumped up from his place on the couch beside you and you had watched him as he walked a few steps away, then stopped, his brain clearly moving faster than his mouth could before shouting that you wouldn’t need a magic bean to make a beanstalk and climb up to the Abyss like some fairytale.

His idea was to use the Squawk radio tower in the Upside Down as a way into the rifts, letting Vecna draw your worlds together just enough that you could all make it inside before El would stop him from drawing them closer.

It was genius, and while the others added a few more small details to help, Dustin was the one who finalized it, suggesting for you all to leave a bomb at the exotic matter that would detonate when you left the Upside Down and destroy the bridge for good.

Then everyone was gearing up, dressing in old combat gear, gathering weapons, and Mike built the detonator for the bomb using a record player and a minifigurine. 

You sat with Lucas on a table in the basement as he adjusted his giant slingshot, a great improvement from his old Wrist Rocket he used against the Demogorgon when you were younger.

You were filling more water balloons for him with the flammable liquid inside the unlabelled canister you had found in the Squawk basement, but every so often you’d glance over to Steve in that same leather jacket he had worn the first time, the material stretching along his shoulders, and a backwards cap on his head, a small tuft of hair sticking out from the front, as he walked away from the cabinet in the corner that usually held the weapons, specifically the guns.

He held a small handgun until Nancy approached him, questioning whether or not he had used a gun before. Of course, he hadn’t, and you forced yourself to look away, only to find Lucas smirking at you.

“What?” You asked.

“You’re, like, in love with Steve.” He whispered with an amused laugh and you shushed him.

“Shut up, no I’m not.” You scoffed, then glanced towards Steve again, watching him follow Dustin through the basement before you met Lucas’s eyes again and saw he was still smirking. “Shut up.”

Getting into the Upside Down was the easiest part of the plan. Murray’s huge Bradley’s Big Buy truck was large enough to hold all of you as it charged into the MAC-Z right through the front gate, and Hopper took down any soldiers shooting at you from the inside, having sneaked in through the tunnels like he would before a crawl.

Nancy and her rifle climbed up the ladder in the middle of the truck and stuck out the hole at the top, where a Demogorgon had ripped the metal open, only to rain fire on any other soldiers around trying to stop you.

Once Hopper was inside the truck and the truck had successfully made it through the MAC-Z gate, the ride got a little bumpier.

“Jesus Christ.” Steve wobbled on his feet a little from beside you.

“Everybody alright? Everybody okay? You alright?” He asked Steve, who nodded, before looking around and asking the others. “Everybody alright?”

Steve looked down at you, where you looked a little shaken as you blinked a few times, and his face scrunched into one of concern.

“You sure you’re okay, kid?” He asked and you looked up, eyes going wide when you realized he was talking to you, as if it were something out of the ordinary.

You nodded before forcing yourself to speak. “Yeah. Thanks, Steve.”

Then he had reached over and patted your shoulder for just a moment before leaning back against the wall. He smiled at you, and you returned the gesture, though you had a feeling you were blushing before you looked to your other side and reached for El’s hand.

Once you reached the lab, Hopper, El, Murray, and El’s ‘sister’ Kali all left the truck, and Steve moved to the front to drive the rest of the way to the Squawk.

You hated the climb up the ladder on the tower, you weren’t the biggest fan of heights, and once you had made it up to the top, you, Lucas and Dustin all stood together and stared out at the Upside Down Hawkins skyline.

“It’s pretty damn spectacular.” Dustin had commented, bumping your shoulder with his.

“Yeah,” You agreed breathlessly, staring out at the dark, yet amazing parallel to your hometown. “It is.”

“It’s almost too bad we have to blow it all up.” Lucas added and you had glanced his way.

“Is it though?”

It wasn’t long after that when you could hear, and see, the Abyss as it descended towards you all, and the plan seemed to be going okay until Lucas noticed that the top of the tower wasn’t lining up with the rifts, which only meant bad news.

El wasn’t able to stop the Abyss fast enough and the planet above you came into contact with the needle, snapping it off.

You all jumped out of the way as it fell, gripping onto the edges and each other. The needle broke off one end of the tower’s railing, and it took Steve with it.

Both you and Dustin shouted his name, watching as he dangled from the edge of the tower, only gripping on with one hand. If he slipped, he would fall and die. 

And then he did slip, and he fell. But not far enough, because Jonathan caught him. He grabbed onto Steve’s hand and pulled him back up onto the tower, saving his life.

The moment he was back on the platform, Dustin charged forward and pulled Steve into a hug. You had almost wanted to follow him, but instead hugged Robin, who was sobbing in relief that she hadn’t just watched her best friend fall to his death.

The Abyss was strange, it was almost like a desert. A vast, empty desert. It seemed too empty, and too quiet, but eventually you found where Vecna was keeping the kids, inside of a ginormous spider-like monster. The Mind Flayer in a much larger, physical body.

And while El fought Vecna inside of the thing, you and your friends attacked the monster from the outside, shooting it, stabbing it, lighting it on fire, until it eventually collapsed to the ground.

Nancy was the first to rush inside in search of Holly, and the rest of you joined her a moment later, Mike rushing forward to reunite with his sisters. The rest of you helped the other 11 kids from where they were up in the spires on the wall. They were all confused, and dirty, covered in some kind of slimy residue as Mind Flayer particles expelled themselves from their mouths.

As you helped a young girl brush herself off, telling her you would help get her home, you could hear gurgling coming from somewhere nearby. You turned to see Vecna, though impaled on a sharp spike of some kind, was still alive.

Joyce dealt with him, decapitating him with her axe. The moment you watched his head tumble to the ground, rolling for a moment before coming to a stop, it felt like a weight was lifted from your shoulders immediately.

Soon you were all heading back home, having climbed back down the radio tower and all cramped into the back of the bus. Steve and Robin were in the front, and you were squashed between Dustin and El as you all talked, almost celebrating the fact that you had won.

Everything descended into chaos when you returned through the gate. The tires of the truck were flattened by spikes and everyone was hauled from the vehicle by soldiers in a flurry of chaos.

You were pressed against the side of the truck, El to your left and Mike to your right, as soldiers surrounded you all. There was yelling, arguing as soldiers patted you all down and searched you all.

Dr. Kay approached El, who glared in response, wincing at the loud radio feedback sound coming from the speakers around the base.

But then the bomb went off inside the Upside Down, and everyone watched the wind whipping around inside as the buildings collapsed and then… it was gone. The gate disappeared, leaving nothing but the crumbling destruction of the library.

After that, you and your friends were all brought in for hours of questioning by the military and Dr. Kay, asking about Henry, El, Kali, the Upside Down, the Demogorgons, why you had taken the kids, why you had gone into the Upside Down. They asked you about everything from the moment Will went missing and you found El in the woods to that point in time where you were being interrogated.

And, eventually, you were all let go and expected to go on with your lives like normal. With the Upside Down gone and Henry dead, El had lost her powers again and now the military had no reason to be after her, not after everything had gone down and she had stopped Vecna.

While it did take a long time, eventually things did get back to normal, as much as they could’ve at least.

–

The morning of your high school graduation you woke up with more energy, and more anxiety, than you had had in a long time.

You went through your morning routine like normal, waking up to a silent house because neither of your parents liked being around each other, or you, before getting dressed.

You had nothing to do all day before graduation, no boyfriend to celebrate with, no family around who wanted to take photos of you. You had the day to yourself.

So you turned on the radio and sat down on the couch with a book, listening as Robin Buckley presented the Squawk’s morning broadcast for the first time since Jimmy ‘Fast Hands’ Lee had returned to Hawkins and she had gone off to college.

At least that was something you could look forward to – college. You couldn’t wait to get out of Hawkins, to do more with your life. You were going to study to become a teacher, something you had wanted to do probably since middle school when you and your friends had all idolized Mr. Clarke.

A burp sound effect playing at the wrong time caused you to look up at the radio for a moment, brows furrowed before a whip cracking sound effect played and Robin’s voice came in.

“There we go. Sorry about that. My partner in crime ditched me.” Robin explained and your face fell for a moment. “But, well, as far as excuses go, he had a pretty good one.”

She was, of course, talking about Steve, who now coached the middle school baseball team. He was the only one of the older teens that hadn’t left Hawkins to go to college when the quarantine had been lifted.

At the mention of Steve, your stomach had flipped uncomfortably. 18 months had passed, and while your crush hadn’t faded, something had happened that now just made you feel guilty for liking him.

Steve had a girlfriend now, a woman named Kristen who he had been dating for a couple of months by this time, and it killed a part of you every time you thought about it.

But that was another reason why you were excited to get out of Hawkins, you would leave Steve behind, maybe meet a guy at college and finally move on from your dumb crush and have a relationship of your own.

That afternoon after you made it to the graduation, everything felt too real. You stood with your friends, dressed in your orange caps and gowns as guests all took their seats, and then the music played, queuing you all to take your seats so the ceremony could begin.

As you walked to your seats, lined up alphabetically like you had rehearsed, you looked around the bleachers to see who you could recognize.

There was Jonathan filming the event off to the side, Joyce, Hopper and El, the Wheelers (including Nancy), Lucas’s parents, Dustin’s mom, Mr. Clarke and Murray, Robin, and Steve.

He was dressed in a suit with a pair of sunglasses on, but as you all walked out, his head turned away from Robin to watch you all. You raised a hand and gave a small return, and he grinned, both him and Robin waving back and you smiled, looking down at your shoes before taking your seat.

Dustin’s valedictorian speech started off normal, he mentioned how he had wanted a normal childhood, but that didn’t really happen, due to obvious reasons. He went on to mention D&D, talking about bad chaos and good chaos. He mentioned making friends with people who were never supposed to be his friends, and how he had seen the same happen to others. He talked about how he was now a better person because of his friends.

But then, towards the end of his speech, something shifted. He called Principal Higgins a square, took off his robe and ripped open his shirt to reveal a t-shirt reading ‘Hellfire Lives’. You cheered loudly for your friend, and so did the others as he went on to say, “Screw the school. Screw the system. Screw conformity. Screw everything and everyone trying to hold you back and tear us apart, because this, this is our year!”

And as you all cheered for him, Dustin snatched his diploma from Principal Higgins and flipped the old man off, just like Eddie had said he would your freshman year.

After the ceremony, you and your friends ran through the sea of orange robes to find him.

“Dustin!” You all called out upon spotting him and the four of you hugged him tight.

“You’re a madman. You’re an absolute madman.” Mike said first as Dustin shook his shoulders with an excited laugh.

“Higgins totally shit his pants.” Lucas added with a laugh.

“Yeah, what’s he gonna do, expel me?” Dustin asked.

“You’re crazy.” Lucas told him, but before the conversation could continue, a voice cut in.

“Hey.”

You turned to see Stacey Albright, the same girl who had once teased you at the Snow Ball, approaching you, Dustin, Lucas, Mike and Will.

“Hey, Stacey.” Dustin greeted her with a grin and an attempt at speaking casually, but your smile fell just a little.

“I just wanted to say what you did up there was pretty badass.” She complimented Dustin, and for a moment you thought she wasn’t going to be serious. But, then again, everyone had matured since middle school.

“Oh. Thanks. I was kind of just going for like a bit of like a Belushi thing. But if he was like in a Hughes film.” Dustin scratched his eye and you shared a glance with Will, who was standing to your left. “But I don’t know. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah. No, totally.” She told him and there was a bit of an awkward pause where she went to turn around and walk away.

“Why did I say that?” Dustin whispered to you and you shrugged, but then Stacey had turned back.

“Hey, so I’m having a party later tonight. You guys should come.” She told you all, then made direct eye contact with you and smiled. Not in a teasing way, but more genuine. You did your best to smile back before she walked away.

“Did that just happen?” Dustin asked Will the moment she left, and the boy chuckled in response.

“Should we go?” Will asked, looking around the group, his eyes lingering on Mike.

“Is that rhetorical?” Lucas asked back, because the answer was obvious.

“No. Screw that. I got a better idea.” Mike stated.

His better idea had been a D&D campaign, and so the seven of you – You, Dustin, Lucas, Mike, Will, El and Max – all cramped around the table in Mike’s basement to play D&D until dinner, laughing and reminiscing about the last six years of your lives and the chaos you had all survived.

But after dinner?

“We still have time to go to Stacey’s party after this.” Lucas had said first, checking his watch by the Wheeler family’s front door.

“Oh, my god, please.” Dustin clamped his hands together and gave Mike his best puppy dog eyes. “Come on, dude, let’s go.”

Mike rolled his eyes. “Seriously?”

“Come on, Mike, don’t be a party pooper.” Max had teased, making El giggle from where she stood by Dustin’s side.

El and Dustin had gotten closer over the last year or so, after she and Mike had finally broken up for good. She had, obviously, been very behind on school, and was currently a grade behind you all, having to take summer school to catch up, but Dustin had been tutoring her and helping her with any subjects she had been struggling with, and now sometimes she hung out with Dustin more than you did.

Another recent development had been with Will and Mike. About a year ago, Will told you, Dustin, Lucas, Max and El that he was gay. He said he had only told his mom, his brother, Mike and Robin before that. Now, Mike hadn’t told you anything, but sometimes you caught the two of them sending each other glances across the room like they were the only two people around.

Will turned to face Mike. “Yeah, Mike, come on. It’ll be fun.”

Then Mike sighed, dropping his head back with a groan before throwing his arms up in the air in front of himself. “Fine.”

You had all walked to the party at Stacey’s house, and once you arrived she, as well as many others, were happy to see you all there.

It was like years of bullying and cliques and labels in school didn’t matter anymore, and that felt weird. It looked like the entire senior class was there.

Kids were high-fiving Dustin as they passed him, complimenting him on his speech loudly, raising their voices to be heard over the thumping bass of the music practically vibrating the house.

You and your friends decided to just let go and have fun; talking to people you usually wouldn’t, drinking alcohol, drinking a lot of alcohol. At one point you and Dustin had started teasing Lucas and Max as they made out in the corner of the room, only for Lucas to let go of Max and start chasing Dustin through the house, leaving you, Max and El bursting into a fit of laughter in the corner.

But the later into the night you got, the more drunk you had all become, and eventually you were all collapsed onto a couch together, El giggling as she played with Dustin’s curls while Max rested her head on your shoulder, her legs thrown across Lucas’s lap. Mike and Will were sitting just a little too close for it to not mean anything by your other side.

Then someone mentioned being tired, someone else started to get sad about the fact you would all be going away to separate colleges soon, and then you were all debating who to call to pick you up.

Will called Jonathan first, who said he could come pick up his brother and sister and one other person, which ended up being Mike.

You, Dustin, Lucas and Max had to find a different ride home, so Dustin went to make a call.

–

Steve had gotten home a couple of hours earlier after making plans to meet up with his friends in Robin’s weird uncle’s house in Philadelphia once a month, and he had been stretched out on the sofa, his arm around Kristen, his girlfriend, as the two of them watched a movie together.

When his phone rang, he furrowed his brows in confusion before getting up and crossing the room to pick it up, assuming that maybe Robin had left something behind in his truck earlier.

Instead he found Dustin on the other end, his words slurred slightly as he asked for Steve to come pick him up.

“Are you drunk, Henderson?” Steve asked, crossing one arm around his torso as he leaned back against the kitchen counter. Kristen had poked her head out of the living room to see what was going on, and he waved her off.

“Pfft, not even. Just, like, a little.” Dustin replied, though his words said otherwise.

“Alright, bud.” Steve chuckled, shaking his head. “Where are you?”

“What’s the address?” He could hear Dustin ask someone else on the other end before he recited Stacey’s address. “Oh, and can you pick up the others too?”

Of course, Steve couldn’t fit four teenagers into his truck, which meant he had to borrow Kristen’s car to go pick you all up, and when he arrived at the address he found the four of you seated on the curb, the party still going on in the house behind you.

Dustin was already half passed out, leaning against Lucas, but he grinned when Steve approached.

“Steve!” He cheered before nudging you and tugging on Lucas’s arm. “Guys, Steve’s here!”

“Steve!” The rest of you chorused the cheer, your face lighting up immediately, and Steve laughed before offering Dustin a hand to lift him up.

While Dustin, Lucas and Max all piled into the backseat, you were left with the passenger seat. And while your friends passed out almost immediately, all leaning against each other as they snored softly in the backseat, you were wide awake.

Something by Queen played on the radio, faint but still clear enough for you to understand every word Freddie Mercury sang as Steve tapped along to the beat on the steering wheel.

“Thanks for picking us up, Steve.” You spoke, half mumbling, as you shifted in your seat, no longer staring out the window and now facing him.

Steve shrugged. “No problem. You know I’d do anything for you guys.”

You hummed before looking around the car. “This isn’t your truck.”

“Nope.” Steve agreed, taking a look around himself. “It’s, uh, my girlfriend’s car.”

“Right.” You had replied, then sunk back into your seat, your eyes fluttering shut a moment later. Steve exhaled out his nose lightly in a gentle laugh.

He glanced over at you, then to your other friends in the rearview mirror before you spoke again.

“I love you, Steve.” You stated, still half-asleep, but your voice was clearer than it had been before.

He smiled, flicking on his blinker as he turned a corner on the dark, empty streets of Hawkins. “I love you too, kid.”

“No.” You had sighed, and Steve glanced your way again, watching how each street lamp illuminated your face for a few seconds as he passed them. “I mean, I love you like… like how you love Kristen.”

He stopped completely, the car slowing slightly, and he frowned as he looked your way again, one eyebrow raised. You what?

“You love her, right?” You asked and Steve coughed awkwardly.

“Well, yeah.”

“Good. She’s nice.” You mumbled. “You deserve that.”

Steve didn’t know how to reply. He had never felt so awkward in his life as he glanced your way.

“You don’t love me.” He told you, like he could decide that. Like saying that erased any feelings you might’ve had for him.

“Yes, I do.” You sighed again, turning to face the window again. “But, it’s fine. I get it. And I’m glad you’re happy, and once I go to college I’m gonna find a boy and he’s gonna love me and I’m gonna forget all about you, so it’s fine.”

And then you went silent for the rest of the car ride. When Steve pulled up outside of Dustin’s house, you shot him a kind smile, thanked him, and left the car like nothing had happened, waking Dustin up before the two of you headed off to the front door with nothing more than a goodbye.

And Steve sat there for a moment, watching the two of you make it into the house before he just stopped, thinking over the interaction he just had with you, extremely confused, because you were in love with him? Since when had you loved him?

The next time he saw you was a week later at one of his baseball games when you and your friends had all shown up to watch.

You were acting like nothing had happened, teasing him with Max like normal, laughing with your friends, acting like you hadn’t drunkenly confessed your love to him a week earlier.

Naturally, Steve assumed you were too drunk to remember the interaction. Hell, he assumed the entire interaction had only happened because you were drunk, because Steve didn’t think you loved him.

But you did love him, and you didn’t forget about the interaction.

Neither did Steve.

–

a/n: holy shit this was wayyyy longer than i had anticipated uhhh no wonder it took me literal months to write omfg. anyway the rest of the series is set in 1993, and the next chapters will be shorter i swear. um, i hope you liked this and the few changes i made lol. i’m excited for this series!!

The night of November 12th, 1983, or maybe it was the early hours of November 13th, your friend Will Byers had finally been found after spending a week trapped in a dark, alternate dimension you and your friends had dubbed ‘The Upside Down’.

You were 13 now, the oldest of the party (beating Lucas by a whole 4 months), and Steve was 17.

After you had spent the night chased by government agents, and evil scientists and literal monsters, and after you had watched your new friend Eleven – El – die.

You and your friends had been cramped into the hospital waiting room, hoping to see Will when he woke up. Lucas and Dustin had been passed out, leaning on each other, and your head was on Dustin’s shoulder as you slept too.

Steve Harrington was also in the waiting room, sitting between a snoring Ted Wheeler and the door. His face was bloody and bruised as he stared at a blank spot on the floor ahead of him.

At this point in time, you didn’t know Steve. You knew of him, that he was a douchebag high schooler, that people called him ‘King Steve’, and that he was dating your friend Mike’s older sister, Nancy.

That night is when you think you met Steve Harrington for the first time.

You didn’t see him very often after that, maybe a few times at the Wheeler household when he was hanging out with Nancy and you were there to play D&D in the basement with your friends, sometimes you’d both be seated at the dinner table, but that was about it.

You didn’t really care about Steve then, he was just some guy – an asshole – who was dating Nancy, and nothing else.

That is, until the beginning of November, 1984. Just days after Halloween, after meeting Max Mayfield for the first time, and after Will’s episode on the field at the school.

You’ve always been closer with Dustin and Lucas than you have been to Mike and Will. In fact, out of all of them, you always considered Dustin to be your best friend.

That might be why you answered his code red that morning, while Lucas went out to try and recruit Max, the new girl, into your party. You were all for Max joining your party, you thought she was cool, and it would’ve been nice to have another girl around.

You ended up helping Dustin scrub blood out of the shag carpet in his bedroom, and helped him bury his now-dead cat after Dart, the slug-like creature Dustin had found in his trash, had turned out to be a baby Demogorgon.

Nobody else was answering the call, so you and Dustin headed to the Wheeler house to try and find Mike, or maybe even Nancy, but neither of them were home.

And when the two of you turned away from the front door to head back to your bikes, Dustin muttering obscenities under his breath, you watched a familiar BMW pull up outside the house.

Enter Steve Harrington. Again.

A bouquet of roses in one hand, running the other through his perfectly styled hair, now walking across the Wheelers’ front lawn and towards the door.

Was it fate? No, just convenient timing, but the next night your perception of Steve Harrington would entirely change for the rest of your life.

You had watched him walk down the steps to Dustin’s cellar, nail bat gripped in his hands, and your first thought was that you hadn’t realized how brave Steve Harrington actually was.

And the next day you had followed him down a set of old rail road tracks, dropping chunks of raw meat onto the ground and listening to him giving Dustin horrible advice on girls. At one point, he had even turned back and asked for your opinion, only for you to totally disagree with what he was saying, but he brushed you off like it was nothing.

Soon, once Lucas and Max had joined you in the junkyard, the five of you set up an old bus as your base of operations, and after that you were hiding inside.

Lucas and Max were up on the roof, keeping watch, Dustin was pacing angrily; he was mad about Lucas telling Max everything and letting her tag along, and you were sitting on one of the old bus seats with your arms crossed to your chest, watching Steve flick his lighter open and closed.

He was cool, you could admit that now. Sure, he still seemed like a douchebag, but after spending literally all day with him, you had come to find Steve wasn’t as bad as you had thought.

And he was kind of… cute. He had nice eyes, and a nice nose, and the moles littering his face were just the cherry on top. And not to mention his ridiculous, but somehow attractive hair that you had recently learned he styled with Farrah Fawcett’s hairspray. Plus, he was charming.

He looked up at you, catching you staring, and gave you a smile. Your eyes darted down immediately, face heating up quickly out of embarrassment of being caught.

“You good over there, kid?” He asked, calling out across the bus. You just nodded in response, avoiding his eyes.

That nickname would stick around much longer than you’d have liked.

And once Dart and the other Demo-dogs had started to arrive, and they weren’t taking the bait, Steve tossed his lighter to Dustin, telling him to “get ready,” and you watched him go outside with that nail bat, using himself as bait.

“He’s insane.” Max had stated, and you had silently agreed.

“He’s awesome.” Dustin had said with an awestruck expression, and for some reason you agreed with that too.

Dustin had clearly begun to admire Steve as a kind of role model, while in that moment, as you watched a number of Demodogs surround him swing at the monsters after you and your friends, you were beginning to admire Steve in a different way.

When he had run back to the bus, several Demo-dogs were right on his tail, and you had all screamed at him to run faster until he was eventually launching himself into the bus.

He pushed you all to the back of the bus, away from the monsters clawing at the door, and you were the one to make it to the ladder at the back of the bus, and the moment you looked up at the hole and saw a Demogorgon looking down at you, you screamed loudly.

“Out of the way! Out of the way!” Steve had yelled and Max yanked you back with her own shriek of fear, having seen the monster for the first time. Steve forced his way in front of you all, pushed you behind him, and raised the bat threateningly, ready to swing at the Demogorgon again. “You want some?! Come get this!”

And in that moment, right there in that rusty old bus, you fell in love with Steve Harrington.

He had jumped in front of you with nothing but that nail-studded baseball bat to protect you all, he had pushed you behind him like it was nothing, like it was easy.

For the rest of that night you were practically glued to his side, not close enough for him to notice, but lingering close enough that he was always nearby. Whatever room he was in, you weren’t far behind him.

From your walk to the lab, where you met up with Nancy and Jonathan, and soon after Chief Hopper, Joyce, Mike and Will, all the way to the Byers’ house, where you discovered that Will was possessed by the shadow monster he had seen and was somehow connected to the monsters, like a hive mind.

You and your friends made the connection between the shadow monster and the Mind Flayer, which Dustin then explained to the rest of the group, and soon after you, Dustin, Lucas, Max, Steve and Nancy waited inside while the others tried talking to Will in the newly disguised shed.

You sat on the couch, watching Steve as he practiced swinging his bat in the middle of the living room. You tried not to stare, really, but your newfound crush was hard to ignore. But then, awkwardly, you glanced over to Nancy.

Right, she was Steve’s girlfriend. Or… ex-girlfriend now? You weren’t sure, but all you knew was that you immediately felt guilty and you cast your eyes down to stare at your shoes instead.

When the Byers’s phone rang not once, but twice, and Nancy ripped it from the wall and threw it across the room, everything got hectic immediately.

The others came rushing back inside from the shed, weapons were distributed, and as Steve raised his nail bat, he pushed you behind him again so you were standing beside Dustin.

When the dead Demo-dog came flying through the window, shattering the glass, you all jumped back, and when El walked through the front door, relief flooded through your body immediately.

Her hair that had once been shaved was now slicked back, she was wearing dark clothes, converse and cuffed jeans, and had dark eye makeup on her face.

And when Hopper took a yelling Mike down the hallway to Will’s room after it came out that the Chief had known where she was for the entire last year and hadn’t said a thing to anyone.

But then she walked over to you, Dustin and Lucas, hugging the boys first and even touching Dustin’s teeth, which had only just grown in, before she walked over to hug you next.

“I’ve missed you so much.” You told her and she hugged you tighter.

“I missed you too.” She said before pulling back and smiling. 

Max stepped forward to introduce herself, giving a polite smile and holding out her hand, but instead of greeting her back, El brushed her off and walked away, towards Joyce.

Max turned to look at you, hurt evident on her features, and you watched El walk away.

“Did I do something wrong?” Max whispered to you and you frowned.

“I don’t… No, I don’t think so.” You told her and pat her shoulder.

Then soon after Hopper and El left to close the gate, and Will was taken by the Byers’ and Nancy to try and separate him from the hive mind, which left you and the rest of your friends alone with Steve once more, which was fine until Billy showed up.

Billy Hargrove was Max’s older step-brother, and he was a total piece of shit. Steve had gone outside to try and get him to leave, and Billy had just shoved him to the ground before bursting through the door, but instead of going for Max, he went for Lucas.

You and your friends were all shouting at Billy to stop as he slammed Lucas against the wall, threatening him, telling Lucas he was “So dead.”

And that’s when Steve stepped in and punched Billy, and for a moment things were looking up. Until they weren’t and Steve ended up getting his face pummeled in by Billy, who Max knocked out a moment later with a needle of whatever Hopper had used to knock Will out earlier.

“Shit, shit, shit, what do we do?” Dustin exclaimed, looking down at the two unconscious 18-year-old boys lying in the middle of Joyce Byers’s living room.

“We have to get to the tunnels,” Mike decided immediately. “To help El.”

“What about Steve?” You spoke up, gesturing down to him and his swollen face.

“What about Steve?” Mike repeated, giving you an unbothered look.

“Well, we can’t just leave him here, Mike, look at him.” You pointed out, and the five of you stared down at his bloody face, bruises already blooming on his skin beneath the red liquid.

“She’s right.” Dustin backed you up immediately. “Besides, he just saved Lucas, we can’t just leave him here for Billy to probably murder when he wakes up. Or what if he chokes on his own blood or some shit?”

Mike groaned loudly, rolling his eyes and looking down at his older sister’s ex? boyfriend. “Fine, whatever, we can bring him.”

“Yeah, but how are we even going to get there? It’s not exactly like we can just walk to the farm.” Lucas asked and Max spun on her heels quickly, walking over to Billy and digging through the pockets of his jeans before pulling out his car keys.

“I’ll drive.” Max said, holding the keys up and dangling them from her fingers.

“What? No!” Mike scoffed. “You can’t drive!”

“I’ve driven in a parking lot before, and I can guarantee that’s more than any of you.” She pointed around at the rest of you. “Besides, Steve clearly can’t drive because he’s practically dead.”

Dustin took off running down the hallway.

“Dude, where the hell are you going?” Lucas yelled after him.

“I’m getting medical supplies!” Dustin had shouted back.

You and Dustin were stuck cleaning up Steve’s face to the best of your abilities while the others scrambled around the house, collecting items they said you needed to go into the tunnels and light the ‘hub’ on fire.

Mike made a map based on the drawings taped to the walls, you all put pairs of gloves and masks in the trunk of Billy’s Camaro before you and Dustin hauled Steve into the backseat.

The car was extremely cramped, Max taking the driver’s seat, much to Mike’s chagrin, and Lucas took the passenger seat beside her to navigate with a map of Hawkins.

You, Dustin and Mike squashed into the backseat, and Steve was pulled between you and Dustin, though he was mostly lying on your laps due to the lack of space. At the time you had been extremely thankful that the car was dark, because your face was burning just due to the minimal contact.

After that, the night faded into a blur of chaos. Steve woke up, screaming frantically about Max driving, sounding so terrified that you were surprised he didn’t jump out of his skin, while Mike snapped at her from the backseat. Dustin was doing his best to comfort Steve while Lucas shouted directions at Max over the noise, screaming at how sharply she turned the corner into the farm.

You were frozen in your seat, stiff as a board, because in his panic Steve had grabbed a hold of your arm and now your heart was beating a mile a minute.

Then came the tunnels, dark, slimy, filled with spores from the Upside Down, and monsters from the very same place. Once you had made it to the hub with little-to-no trouble and doused it in gasoline, Steve tossed in his lighter and lit the place up.

You all raced back to the exit while Demo-dogs chased you all down the tunnels. Steve had lifted Max, Lucas and Mike up and out of the hole before the monsters came bounding around the corner, heading right towards you.

Steve’s arms wrapped around you and Dustin instinctively, and you had squeezed your eyes shut out of fear for your life.

The Demo-dogs just ran right by the three of you, and once they were gone, you all let out relieved breaths.

“You okay, Henderson?” Steve asked, patting Dustin on the shoulder and he nodded. Then he looked at you. “You good?”

Steve hoisted Dustin up first, and Mike and Lucas pulled him up and out of the hole. Then Steve turned to face you. 

“Alright, your turn, kid.” He had said, and all you could do was nod before Steve was grabbing your hips to help lift you out of the hole, and butterflies had swarmed in your stomach.