KeeryBerry 🍓

Jonathan loved you quietly, it was in the way he always carried your books without asking, in the way his hands searched for yours whenever his thoughts drifted somewhere darker. After everything he’d been through, there were days when it felt like a part of him was stuck back in those weeks of uncertainty. But you didn’t blame him for it, loving Jonathan meant loving someone who was still learning how to breathe after drowning.

You loved him enough to understand when he disappeared into his photography for hours or became distant after nightmares he never talked about.

Jonathan was absentmindedly sorting through photographs when you leaned closer to him beside the lockers to look at one he quietly held in front of you.

“This one’s nice.” You murmured, tracing the edge of the glossy print with your finger.

He hummed in agreement, you knew your boyfriend wasn’t the talkative type. Not after the torment he’s been through, when people talked about him in the halls like he was a psychopath, enough to accuse him of murdering his own brother. You learned to match his pace, on the days he didn’t feel like expressing himself you’d sit by him silently, just doing what he wanted.

A loose strand of your hair escaped from behind your ear, falling across your face as you lowered your head over the picture. Before you could brush it away yourself, Jonathan reached over almost automatically and tucked it back into place with gentle fingers.

The gesture was so casual it was almost invisible, he didn’t smile or make a comment, just a moment shared between you that meant more than visible.

Across the hallway, Steve’s laughter caught somewhere in his throat. His eyes lingered on the two of you just for a second too long before something unpleasant pinched in his chest.

He didn’t know where it came from or why he had felt it, lasting only a moment before disappearing completely.

Nancy looked up from where she was standing in front of him, staring at him strangely. “You okay?” She asked.

Steve blinked, caught off guard by the question. “Hm?”

“You randomly got quiet—thought something happened to you.” Nancy said amusingly.

Had he? Steve forced an easy grin onto his face, shaking off his blank expression. “Yeah yeah, just zoned out.”

She studied him for another second before nodding, trying not to show she had exactly spotted where his gaze had landed.

Students drifted between classes clutching bright orange fliers being handed out, “Tina’s Halloween bash.”

“You’re coming to this.” Nancy said, leaving no room for argument as she shoved it into Jonathan’s hands.

“No I’m not.” Jonathan rolled his eyes, walking through the crowded hallways.

“I can’t let you sit all alone on Halloween, it’s just not acceptable.” She shook her head.

“Well you can relax, I’m not going to be alone. I’m taking Will trick or treating, and my girlfriend's gonna join us.” He explained, as the pair stopped right in front of her locker.

Before Nancy could reply, she was suddenly lifted off of the ground, shrieking loudly as familiar hands wrapped around her waist. She gasped, turning around to smack Steve’s shoulder, he held smugness and a lazy smile, wearing a leather jacket and black sunglasses.

“Hey, stranger.” He said, barely sparing Jonathan a glance.

Nancy smiled despite herself, leaning against him. “Hey you, it’s barely been an hour.”

Steve reached for her slowly, “tell me about it,” he sighed, pressing a quick kiss on her lips. It was the kind of kiss couples shared between classes without thinking much about who was watching, and you had just rounded the corner in time to witness it.

You didn’t pause awkwardly, just accidentally, a small smile tugged at your mouth, they were cute together. Jonathan noticed your first, his hand brushing yours.

“Hi,” he said, and you couldn’t help but smile at his soft tone.

“Hi.” You replied, Steve pulled back from Nancy just as your eyes met. For a moment, one inexplicable second, neither of you looked away. It wasn’t lingering enough to be obvious, just unexpected.

Steve couldn’t quite explain why he’d looked at you after kissing Nancy, or why your presence alerted him much louder than it should’ve. You offered him a shy smile, he cleared his throat first, breaking the moment before it became anything worth noticing.

“So—what’s going on?” Steve rubbed the back of his neck, feigning casualness.

Jonathan held up the orange flyer. “Tina’s having a party.”

Before he could finish speaking, you plucked the invitation right out of his hands. You scanned it dramatically, looking at him with exaggerated disbelief. “No way.”

Jonathan sighed, already knowing that tone. “You actually let her convince you to go to a party?” You asked, brows flying upwards.

“I haven’t agreed to anything.” He interrupted, not appreciating the way both of you were ganging up on him now.

“Oh, you’re definitely going now.” You smirked, tilting your head. Steve leaned against the lockers, watching the two of you bicker with effortless familiarity. You nudged Jonathan’s shoulder, he nudged yours back, you laughed at the motion.

Steve grew annoyed at that odd tug in chest again, small but persistent. “You should come,” Nancy said, looking between the two of you.

Jonathan opened his mouth, but you beat him to it. “You know what? Maybe I’ll drag him there.”

Jonathan silently groaned, but it was practically an agreement. The four of you started walking toward class together, your conversation dissolving into playful teasing. Nancy slipped her hand into Steve’s, without thinking, he intertwined his fingers with hers.

You were quietly laughing again at something Jonathan had whispered, leaning half your weight against him affectionately. Steve looked away almost immediately, his grip around Nancy’s hand tightened unconsciously. She noticed, looking down at their joined hands before returning her gaze back to his face, he didn’t speak, only kissed the back of her hand as they continued walking.

If he was trying to convince himself that everything was exactly as it should be, it almost worked.

The music was so loud it made the walls vibrate, every room in Tina’s house was overflowing with teenagers dressed in cheap costumes, drinking out of red plastic cups, and yelling over one another.

You stood just inside the doorway, taking it all in as Jonathan sighed beside you. “I already regret coming.” He said, but before he could change his mind and turn back, you grabbed his arm pulling him closed.

“You promised you’d give it a chance. C’mon…your first high school party.” You raised a brow at him, giving him a wide smile.

You dragged him into the middle of the house, where bodies mingled together, dancing to the beat of the music. Jonathan looked horrified, looking around for an escape route. “I don’t dance,” he shook his head profusely.

“Mmm, I don’t think you have much of an option, Byers. Either I dance alone and embarrass you so badly that everyone will know we came here together, or you can just dance with me.” You shrugged your shoulders, not a hint of falsehood in your voice.

He rubbed a hand over his face, tilting his head back. “…fine.”

Triumph spread across your face as he finally joined you. “I’m only doing this because I love you.” He spoke, and warmth spread through you, your heart skipped a beat every time he uttered those three words, it meant more than he could ever imagine.

Jonathan wasn’t a particularly graceful dancer, he barely moved at first, shoulders stiff with embarrassment while you laughed your way through dance moves solely designed to make him smile.

Eventually, a reluctant grin showed on his face, then a chuckle, then a fully blown laugh. You beamed at his relaxed demeanor, reaching for his hands as another song started. “C’mon,” you guided him loudly.

“I don't know what I’m doing.” He admitted, heat rushing to his face.

“Good thing I don’t either.” You yelled, earning another laugh.

He spun you once, awkwardly enough that both of you lost it at his movements. The music grew louder, and the room disappeared around the two of you, except for one person that remained in the shadows.

Steve watched over the rim of his cup, he wasn’t trying to, but it couldn’t have been more obvious. Nancy was talking to someone from her chemistry class behind him, lost in a different world, but Steve’s attention kept drifting to the dance floor.

You looked happy, happier than he’s ever seen you this past year. Jonathan wasn’t exactly dancing so much as letting you drag him around the room, but the smile on his face showed that he didn’t mind.

Steve couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like to be there himself, forgetting about everything else while you gave him a smile as equally as big. Until—you stumbled slightly after someone bumped into you, Jonathan’s hand shot instinctively to your waist, steadying you before you could lose your balance.

He didn’t let go immediately, his hand remained there comfortably as the two of you kept moving together. Something hot flared unexpectedly through Steve’s body, all the way from his gut to his throat, where he couldn’t speak properly.

It wasn’t jealousy, it couldn’t be, only irritation. Because the eldest Byers son wasn’t usually like that, he’d always seemed almost shy about affection in public. Steve had noticed the rare kisses you shared around other people, the hand that never trailed higher than your forearm, a strong contrast to the displays of affection Steve usually gave.

Seeing Jonathan’s hand resting so easily against your waist made something inside him tighten as he took another drink of whatever alcohol was inside. But it didn’t leave, if anything, it settled deeper.

Nancy’s voice pulled him back, he forced his gaze onto her. “Huh?” He asked.

“I asked if you wanted to dance?” She repeated, not understanding why her boyfriend's head was so up in the air these days.

Steve looked at her, she was his girlfriend, the girl he loved. Everything was fine and normal between them, whatever this weird feeling was would go away soon enough. He just needed to stop feeding it, without another thought, he quickly nodded, taking her hand.

“Yeah, let’s dance.” She smiled, maybe if he really focused on her, committed to the girl he was supposed to be staring at, everything else would disappear.

Steve wrapped an arm around Nancy’s waist, pulling her a little harder than usual. Nancy laughed, but didn’t pull away. “Someone’s having a good time.” She stated, blue eyes twinkling.

He smiled, swaying to the beat of the music. “Is that a bad thing?” He asked.

“No.” She rested her arms around his neck. “It’s nice.” Steve nodded, exactly, this was nice.

He spun her gently, trying to not let his eyes wander, trying very hard not to look at how a couple feet away, trying even harder not to notice that you and Jonathan were still dancing.

He laughed at something Nancy said, she smiled hazily, maybe if he just—

Nancy’s elbow caught the cup in Steve’s hand, the drink splashed across the front of her white blouse. She stepped back instantly, looking down at the mess. “Oh my god.” She exclaimed.

“Shit—I’m so sorry, Nance.” Steve rushed to reach out for her, but Nancy only looked down at herself with an exhausted sigh.

“I’m gonna go clean this up.” She said, walking away to the bathroom as Steve followed behind her hastily.

A while later, you and Jonathan migrated towards the kitchen, laughing over Will and his friends ghostbusters costumes, they were the cutest group of kids you’ve ever seen.

That’s when movement near the hallway caught your eye, Steve came storming out of the bathroom, his face was pale, jaw clenched with frustration so tightly you thought he might break the muscle. He didn’t glance at anyone as he pushed through the crowd and headed for the front door.

A second later, Nancy emerged looking just as shaken. Your smile faded, they had both just been dancing together, drinking and talking like nothing mattered.

Your smile faded, nudging Jonathan’s arm. “Hey.” He looked up, and you nodded towards Nancy's face flooded with tears.

“What happened?” You asked, not taking yours off her as she swayed slightly, looking completely drunk.

Without a word, Jonathan started rushing towards her. “Nance?”

You watched him walk away, the unexpectedness of it made your stomach twist. It wasn’t rational, Nancy was upset, of course he’d go to check up on her, just like any friend would.

Still, the voice in your mind whispered that he hadn’t even looked back at you, to see if you’d followed. You swallowed the feeling before it could grow into something uglier, he’s just helping her, wouldn’t you?

Taking a quiet breath, you turned to the front door instead, if Jonathan was making sure Nancy was alright, maybe Steve shouldn’t have to be alone.

The crisp night air hit you the moment you stepped outside, Steve sat on the front steps with his elbows resting on his knees, staring blankly into his lap.

He didn’t even notice when you sat beside him without making a sound. For a long moment, neither of you spoke.

“Are you okay?” You asked, even though it was clear as day he wasn’t. You didn’t know how to start a conversation with Steve, you only knew him because of your shared monster hunting experience last year, being friends with him felt like stepping into a role that wasn’t meant for you.

Steve laughed, short, humorlessly. “No.”

You didn’t push, but he let out a heavy breath, rubbing both hands over his face.

“She—she called it all bullshit.” His voice cracked before he could finish.

You frowned, “what?”

He took another shaky breath, his face wasn’t as angry as had been when you first saw him, he looked more than devastated now. “Our relationship. Everything. She said…pretending. Like everything we’ve been through didn’t mean anything.” The words seemed to hurt coming out.

Your heart ached for him, he was only trying to make the best of the situation. “Steve…”

“I don’t understand.” His voice had become dangerously quiet. “I thought we were okay.” You spotted as a tear slipped free before he could stop it, Steve immediately scrubbed it away embarrassed.

Without thinking, you rested a gentle hand on his shoulder, squeezing only lightly. “She didn’t mean it.” You said quietly. “She was drunk."

“Yea I know.” Steve scoffed, shaking his head. “But you know what they say, drunken words are sober thoughts."

Honestly, you didn’t know what to say to make him feel better. Nancy looked so happy, but maybe she was pushing down the worries that haunted you just as badly. Constantly, you were plagued by the nightmares of the upside down, of the demogorgon, of the thought that at any moment Jonathan could be taken away from you just as Will had been, and there wasn’t anything you could do about it.

“I don’t think she meant that your whole relationship was fake. She loves you Steve, you know that.” You swallowed past the lump in your throat.

“She’s never said it.” He shook his head, he had been looking for that reassurance all this time from her but it never came.

Silence settled again, headlights swept over the driveway. You glanced up instinctively, Jonathan was helping Nancy stumble toward his car, one care hand supporting her back.

You watched him open the passenger door for her, like he always did for you when he took you on dates. He looked concerned, focused entirely on making sure she was okay.

Your chest tightened, he hadn’t even returned to search for you, asking how you were going to get home, or wondering where you’d disappeared to.

You lowered your eyes before Steve could notice, he cared as a friend. You repeated it until it almost sounded true, mind unfreezing at the sound of Steve letting out another shaky breath.

You gave his shoulder another comforting rub, whatever doubts had begun creeping into your own heart could wait, right now, your friend needed someone. And you could only hope your relationship wasn’t in jeopardy.

“Then tell me. You love me.” Steve hadn’t expected his whole relationship to end on a single question, Nancy had looked at him for what felt like forever. His mouth parted, but nothing came out.

It was shocking how loud silence could be, he stared at her wide eyed, the worst part was that the hurt hadn’t even hit him yet—it was the realization that everything between them was a lie.

“I think that you’re bullshit.” He blurted, wanting her to feel an ounce of what he felt. And just like that, Steve turned around, and walked away.

The first person he thought about wasn’t Nancy, not because she didn’t invade his mind. There was only one person who had seen him completely fall apart after the Halloween party, only one person who didn’t expect him to smile through it—who accepted his tears. Before he could think better about it, his car was already pulling into your driveway.

You frowned in surprise as you opened up your front door. “Steve?” But he wasn’t the Steve you knew, he looked like a wilted flower, broken down and missing his light.

He offered a weak smile. “…hey.” You stepped aside without asking questions, allowing him to come in.

He ended up sitting on your bedroom floor, while you curled up on the side of your bed, a mug of hot chocolate warming your hands, it was the first thing you thought to make him cheer him up without knowing the reason behind why he was so sad.

Finally, he cut through the silence with words that sliced like a knife. “We broke up.”

Your grip tightened around the mug, feeling the heaviness of sorrow settle in your chest. “I’m sorry.” You said, because you truly were.

Steve stared at the carpet, playing around with the fuzz. “I just kept thinking…I could fix it, make things feel normal.” He shrugged helplessly.

“Sometimes you can’t.” You said above a whisper.

“I thought if I loved her enough—” his voice disappeared, and you reached over without thinking, placing a hand atop his shoulder like you did last night.

“You did.” You assured him, the force of love couldn’t change anything, it was knowing if the other person loved you back which did.

Silence enveloped the room again, a question weighed heavily on you, not one that you could ask Jonathan, he’s been through enough as it is, you shouldn’t have to burden him.

“There…um—” you twiddled your fingers together, sucking in a breath.

Steve looked up, neck arching for his gaze to look into your face. “What?”

You refused to meet it, he could sense something strong was worrying you. “Never mind.” You waved him off.

He gave you a small smile. “Tell me.” He placed a hand on your elbow, stopping your racing mind. You noticed he was comforting you just the way you had comforted him.

“Do you ever…” you started hesitantly. “Do you ever get nightmares?”

Steve blinked, you finally met his eyes for the first time since the words escaped you. “About what?”

“About what happened. The demogorgan, the upside down, the sounds that came from the walls.” You swallowed, the last one made your skin crawl.

Recognition flickered across his features. “You do?” He remembered everything about last year, but it had sort of hidden into a corner of his mind he tried not to think about.

You gave an embarrassing shrug. “I didn’t really tell anyone.” You confessed.

“Why not?” He asked, growing more concerned.

“Everyone else seemed…” you searched for the right word. “Like they had enough on their plate. Will disappeared, Nancy lost Barb, Jonathan almost lost his brother, and I had no one.” It was selfish to say those words, but that’s what trauma did, it fed on all your worst feelings.

“What kind of nightmares?” Steve asked.

You were quiet for a long moment, as if speaking them aloud could summon it like some dark curse. “I dream that we’re back in the Byers house.” You could almost see it again. “The lights start flickering, and the demogorgon whispers through the walls. It wants me—every time I turn I can feel it getting closer. And then I can’t find Jonathan. I keep looking for him, but he’s separated, like I’m the one in the upside down.”

You physically shudder as your voice cracks. “I wake up convinced…” you admitted, almost whispering. “That if I’d been braver that night—”

“No.” You look up at Steve’s interruption, he was already shaking his head. “You don’t get to do that to yourself.”

“What if—”

“You fought that thing too.” His voice was firmer now.

“I wasn’t like Nancy.” You were getting choked up. “I wasn’t like Jonathan.”

“You don’t have to be.” Steve cut in. “If Byers can’t see that you’re struggling, then maybe he doesn’t deserve you.”

You stared at him with your mouth agape. He had finally said the words that had been eating away at him. “Fuck—I don’t, I don’t mean that.” He took a deep breath, Steve was just going through a lot at the moment. “I’m just trying to say you need someone to lean on, and I can be that person to talk to.” He said much quieter, but the words still carried meaning.

You understood, you couldn’t go back to the way things were or erase the past, but you could still try. “Thank you, Steve.” You gave him a small smile, he returned it and rubbed a hand on your knee.

“Of course.” He said, though it didn’t have to be.

At first, you forced yourself into not worrying when Jonathan wasn’t around. He slipped out of school before the final bell rang, you didn’t question where he was going—perhaps Joyce needed something, or he had to pick up Will.

But then he canceled your weekly Tuesday night hangouts. When you’d go over to the house and just help around, listen to music, finish schoolwork, fill the house with some of the joy it had been missing. Will loved whenever you came over, you were one of the only people who made him feel normal after he came back. He appreciated that you never brought it up, only treated him like any other normal boy his age that loved playing dorky games and staying in castle Byers.

“Something came up, I’ll make it up to, I promise.” Jonathan apologized before hanging up the phone, you believed him every time. Because what else was there to think?

After everything, you couldn’t blame him for needing space, you just wished he’d include you in some of it. If he said it was important, it probably was.

“Has Byers skipped this much?” Steve asked from beside you in the cafeteria. In the meantime, you two grew closer, you didn’t mention Nancy but bonded over other things, you got to know a side of King Steve he didn’t usually show.

You looked up from your lunch. “What?”

He shrugged, keeping his eyes on the soda bottle in his hands. “I don’t know, but it’s been like two days since I’ve seen him.” Steve didn’t mention the fact that Nancy was also missing, he didn’t want to think about the two of them together.

“He’s probably helping his mom.” You replied, though you hadn’t dwelled on it until Steve said it aloud. That afternoon you called his house, but no one answered.

The phone rang half an hour later, you answered almost immediately, silently hoping Jonathan had remembered to call.

“Hello?” You asked into the line, waiting.

“…Honey?” Your shoulders relaxed at the familiar voice. But Joyce sounded anxious, a slight shakiness to her words that made a feeling of dread come over you.

“Is everything okay?” You pressed worriedly.

“I—I was wondering if you’ve seen Jonathan?” She asked, you frowned though she couldn’t see it.

“I thought he was with you?” You replied, things weren’t adding up.

“No, no he’s not.” She answered, pausing for a moment before continuing. “If you hear from him…” her voice trembled. “Tell him we’re at the Hawkins Lab. Will’s gotten worse.”

That’s all she had to say, and your heart skipped a beat. “I’m coming.” You answered.

The fluorescent lights of Hawkins Lab made your head ache. You remembered the girl from last year, Eleven, who had escaped from this very place. The boys had told you she went missing after closing the gate, no trace of her left behind. That was another mystery of the upside down that kept you up at night.

You hurried through the entrance, when you found the room Will was in, you sighed in relief when you spotted them. Joyce, Will, Bob, Mike, Hopper, Nancy, and Jonathan, were all gathered around the bed.

Jonathan turned around the sound of your footsteps, but for a second his expression wasn’t relief, it was guilt. Your smile faltered, you immediately crossed the room towards Joyce.

“Mrs. Byers?” You caught her attention, and she enveloped you into a hug instantly.

“Oh, you made it.” She sighed, you noticed the worry lines written all over her face, ones that said she was terrified for her boy.

“How’s Will?” You pulled away, glancing at the pale boy as he was lying in the hospital bed, it made your heart hurt, he was so, so young.

“They’re trying to help him.” She gave you a night smile, though you could tell her words were only hopeful.

Your eyes drifted back to Jonathan, he still hadn’t moved or smiled in your direction, you hated how you couldn’t identify the emotion shining in his eyes.

“Can I—can I talk to you?” He forced out, and your stomach sank.

The hallway outside was eerily quiet, you were far enough away for privacy, but if you spoke loud enough your voices would carry.

Jonathan’s eyes flickered all over the walls before they settled back on you. “I’m sorry.” The words landed as hard as a punch to your gut.

“For what?” You blinked, you thought you had done everything right, that nothing could break the connection between you.

“I should’ve told you sooner…I didn’t want this to happen.” His voice cracked, but he kept a stiff expression.

You already knew what he was getting at, you’d spent weeks pretending not to notice. The absence, the missed calls, he hasn’t been there for you since the party, maybe that marked the end of the beginning.

“Nancy.” You stated, not like a question, it was a fact. You should’ve seen it coming sooner, the secrets they shared, but you couldn’t blame them. They were more alike in ways you couldn’t relate.

Jonathan closed his eyes. “Yeah.” Your heart broke so quietly you almost missed it. “I really did love you, you know. I still do—that’s why I need to do this, so I can’t hurt you anymore.” He shook his head.

“But do you love her?” You asked, he didn’t answer, and that was enough.

He stepped forwards instinctively, like he was going to hug you, you took one back, if he did you would never let go. “I’m sorry.” Jonathan repeated, but it wouldn’t heal anything inside.

“I know.” You said quietly, not looking at him. “Will needs you.”

Jonathan hesitated, looking like he wanted to say a million different things, you cut him off before he could. “You should go.” You motioned, he only nodded before leaving.

You closed your eyes the second he rounded the corner, it hurt, it hurt so much. But mother thought came just as quickly, Jonathan had needed someone who understood every piece of what he’d carried since Will disappeared. You had been there, but not like Nancy had, she never second-guessed things, she always dove first into danger like the explanation could come later.

It would’ve been easier if someone had lied, or cheated, if you could blame either of them. Instead, people’s hearts changed, and yours had been left behind. You had to keep it in for now, to be strong, if not for yourself, then for Will.

You stepped back into the room, avoiding everyone’s gaze. Joyce reached for her hand, things could change, but she would always be your second mother. “Can you stay with him while I talk with Dr. Owen’s?” She asked softly.

You sat down by Will's bed without hesitation. “Of course.” His face twisted with discomfort, carefully, you brushed his damp hair from sweat away from his forehead. “You hear me Will?” You asked quietly.

His breath hitched. “You don’t have to fight alone.” Your voice cracked, taking his hand in yours. “I’m here.”

An alarm blared through the building, the overhead lights flickering violently as a scream echoed down the halls. Dr. Owen suddenly rushed into the room, a look of panic evident on his face.

“They’re inside.” He said with a tone of seriousness.

“What?” Your head snapped up.

“The creatures. We need to get out. Now.” Gunfire erupted somewhere beyond the wing, then a hiss came, not human, definitely one that didn’t belong to this world.

Joyce grabbed Will’s body, Nancy reached for Jonathan, a metallic crash shook the walls. Your first instinct was to curl up into yourself, no, no, please, not again.

Your heartbeat thundered through your ears, a smaller hand grabbed yours, it was Mikes. “We need to go.” He said, helping you up, something slammed against the walls.

Steve hadn’t meant to drive to your house, he simply knew the route like it was muscle memory at this point. He frowned as he climbed out of his BMW, your porch light was off. He knocked twice but no answer came, you hadn’t mentioned prior you had somewhere to be that evening.

“Steve?” A voice called out, he turned around to see Dustin Henderson jogging up the sidewalk, his backpack bouncing. “What are you doing here?” The curly haired boy asked.

He paused, not really having an answer himself. “I was looking for—”

“She’s not here.” Dustin cut him off, Steve blinked. “She went to help Will, he got worse at the lab.”

Steve’s expression dropped instantly, you were at the lab, without him. “When?” He could only ask.

“I don’t know, like an hour ago.” Dustin shrugged. “I need your help, do you still have that bat—the one covered with nails?”

The railroad tracks stretched endlessly in front of them, this was the last place Steve wanted to be, tossing beef jerky onto the ground to attract some creature that could bite his face off.

Dustin continued to explain everything at a pace Steve was struggling to process. “Alright, so let me get this straight. You kept something you knew was probably dangerous to impress a girl, who you just met?” Steve repeated.

“An interdimensional slug, because it’s awesome.” Dustin corrected.

“I don’t know—I just feel like you’re trying way too hard man.” Steve replied, turning to glance at the shorter boy.

Dustin sighed. “Well not everyone can have your perfect hair, alright?”

“It’s not about the hair, man. It’s about…” Steve searched for the words. “Showing up.”

Dustin paused in his tracks, quite literally. “What?” He looked at him weirdly.

“You show up when she needs you.” The sentence surprised even himself, he frowned. “I mean, you listen, and you don’t try fixing everything. You just—” he looked down at the tracks.

“—Be there.” His own words echoed back in his head. You’re bedroom, you’re nightmares, “I can be that person to talk to.” Steve slowed to a stop, he’d been trying to fix things with Nancy, trying to become exactly who she needed, he hadn’t simply been there.

Dustin smiled knowingly. “I get it.” He grinned.

Steve looked at him, brows furrowing. “You do?”

“You’re talking about Nancy.” Dustin pointed out.

Steve opened his mouth automatically. “Yeah.” The word caught halfway out of his throat, images crashed into him all at once. Jonathan brushing your hair away in the halls, his hand on your waist at the party, the shakiness in your voice when you had told him about your nightmares, the first person he’d gone to for comfort after the breakup.

His heartbeat lurched in his chest. “No.” He said breathlessly. “No.” He repeated, firmer this time. It wasn’t Nancy, it had never been her, every jealous glance, every reason Jonathan got under his skin, it wasn’t because Jonathan had Nancy. It was because Jonathan had you.

“Oh my god.” Steve looked like someone had knocked the air from his lungs.

He loved you. He’d been falling in love with you for weeks without even realizing it.

Then another thought came, you were in one place, he was in another. Which meant he had no way of making sure you were alright, if you were safe.

“I have to go to the Hawkins Lab.” Steve panicked.

“There’s a demodog on the loose!” Dustin yelled, and Steve realized he had to track it down to make sure it wouldn’t get to you.

The junkyard had been transformed into a fortress, a perfect trap to lure the creature right to them. The sky was beginning to darken, and Steve knew they didn’t have much time left.

“Alright, everyone stays inside!” Steve instructed, he could risk any of them getting hurt.

“No way, you’re gonna get yourself killed, Steve!” Lucas fought from inside the abandoned schoolbus, a hissing sound alerted them of the demodog’s presence, and Steve had stood up before any of them could move.

“I’ve got it!” Steve said, stepping outside alone with only a bat to defend himself.

He swung it at a creature's neck before stumbling backwards, he became outnumbered very quickly. They hadn’t just attracted Dart, they had attracted the whole herd. Right when Steve thought he was bones, they suddenly all started running away, like he hadn’t been standing there at all.

The kids came back out of the school bus and they all followed the demodogs, it was like they all had the same brain, going to the same destination. Steve followed the creatures with narrowed eyes until the direction finally registered, his blood ran cold. The demodogs weren’t wandering aimlessly, they were heading straight for the gates of Hawkins Lab, where you were,

“Shit—no, no, no…” Steve shook his head violently, throat closing up.

You couldn’t have described what was happening inside the lab even if someone begged you to. Every corridor had become a maze of locked security doors and flashing red lights. Scientists and guards sprinted in every direction, some trying to find a way out, others only panicking.

The creatures tore through anyone unfortunate enough to stand in their path, you had stopped registering the screams. Survival instincts had taken over everything else, your mind didn’t work, and there wasn’t anytime to think.

Bob had somehow managed to override the security system, opening each door one by one while the rest of you waited helplessly. For one flash of a second, it looked like he’d made it.

Joyce’s relieved sob caught in her throat. Then suddenly—“No!”

The demodogs were on him before anyone could turn back, you watched Joyce fight against Hopper's grip as Bob sacrificed himself, buying all of you the precious few seconds needed to escape. The image burned itself into your memory, if you had slept before, you weren’t sure if you’d ever sleep again.

The cold air burned your lungs the second you burst through the labs front doors. Your legs nearly buckled beneath you from exhaustion, you made it, you were alive.

Several figures stood waiting near the gates, one of them stepped forward so suddenly it was almost a stumble. It was Steve.

He’d been pacing the edge of the parking lot, every instinct screaming at him to run inside despite the need to stay back with the kids.

Then the doors burst open, his eyes frantically searching the crowd of survivors pouring out. Joyce, Will, Mike, Hopper, Jonathan, Nancy. Where the hell were you?

For one horrifying moment—he thought you hadn’t made it. Then he saw you barely manage to walk out last, breathing hard, your clothes streaked with dried blood that wasn’t your own. His knees almost gave out beneath him, and the breath he’d been holding since he showed up to your missing house finally escaped in one shaky exhale.

“Oh, thank god.” You looked up at the sound of the voice, his brown eyes stuck on you desperately. You opened your mouth, wanting to say something, anything, even just to scream his name, but no words came.

“Everybody in the cars!” Hopper barked, and the moment shattered. Joyce hurried you along Mike and Jonathan to his car while Hopper ushered the younger kids toward another.

Steve instinctively took a step toward you, you looked over your shoulder one last time as you were pushed into the backseat. When your door slammed shut, only then did he climb into the other vehicle. Neither of you had spoken a word, you were alive, and for now, that was enough.

Bob’s death lingered all the way to the Byers house, no one could acknowledge what had happened at the lab, it was another trauma you were meant to deal with later.

“He’s a spy. If he knows where we are, the shadow monster knows. We can’t talk to him, not like this. We have to take him somewhere where he doesn’t know where he is, somewhere unknown, somewhere disguised.” Mike spoke to the group, you lingered in the back, not noticing how every few moments Steve would glance at you.

Hopper thought about it before an idea clicked in his head. “He won’t know the shed. We can disguise it, strip it down. All right, let’s go! Grab tarps, cardboard, trash bags, let’s go! Move!” He barked orders to everyone.

You stood on a small wooden stool, stretching as high as you could to staple another trash bag into the wall, the repetitive motion gave your hands something to do besides shake.

If you kept moving, you wouldn’t have to think about Jonathan’s face as he broke up with you, or the screams that echoed through the labs shortly after.

“Hey.” You barely heard it, another staple. “Hey.” You were deaf to the sound, turning to grab another bag.

A hand gently closed around your wrist, you startled, flinching back so hard you almost fell.

Steve steadied you immediately. “Easy.”

Your breath caught, not expecting him to follow after you. “…Steve.” His name rolled off your tongue without hesitation.

Steve searched your face before speaking, like he was really making sure you were there, not only imaging you through the grief. Finally, he let out a shaky breath. “When I thought I lost you…” his voice cracked, you’d never heard him this vulnerable before, not even when he’d shown up to your house.

“I couldn’t—I couldn’t breathe.” He swallowed, your heart squeezed painfully. “I kept thinking you were in there, not knowing if you were alive or not.”

His eyes searched yours desperately. “I would’ve done anything to go in.”

You didn’t have to think about it twice. “I know.” You said.

He stepped closer, swallowing hard. “So I need you to know something, in case another moment like that happens again.”

You frowned slightly. “What?”

He looked terrified, mouth pursing into a determined line. “I love you.”

Everything stopped, your staple gun flattered to the wooden floor, you simply stared at him. He loved you, but your chest only hurt at the confession. Jonathan had moved on only hours earlier, Bob was dead, Will was still possessed, and tomorrow wasn’t promised.

The tears came before you could stop them, then suddenly you couldn’t breathe anymore. Steve’s face immediately fell, you covered your mouth, shaking your head overwhelmingly.

“I’m s-sorry…” you gasped out.

Steve’s hand twitched at his sides, wanting to reach out for you. “No no—don’t apologize."

“He—” you couldn’t even say it out loud. “He broke up with me.”

Steve’s eyes went wide, then the guilt immediately hit him all at once. What was he thinking, confessing at a time like this? After everything you’d survived, after losing the person you loved.

“Oh god.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “I’m an idiot.” He groaned, and he didn’t hesitate another second. Instead of reaching for your hand, or wanting to kiss you, he stepped forwards and wrapped both arms around you.

He held you carefully, like he was afraid you’d break into pieces if he squeezed you too tightly. Your forehead rested heavily against his shoulder and that was all you needed to finally give in, sobbing roughly.

Your hands fisted the back of his jacket as weeks of fear, exhaustion, and heartbreak poured out of you. Steve held you through every second, one hand stroking the back of your head, the other rubbing slow circles on your back, just simply being there, as you’d taught him.

“I know.” His voice was barely above a whisper.

You only shook your head, sputtering your words out between breaths. “I wasn’t enough.”

You could feel his long strands of hair brush your forehead as he quickly shook his head. “Stop that, you’re everything and more. You hear me?” He said firmly, fresh tears rolled down your cheeks.

He gently brushed the hair out of your face, he’d been wanting to do it since the first time he saw it, gently swaying both of your bodies back and forth.

“I don’t want you feeling like you have to answer me. So, let’s leave all that stuff for later, yeah?” His thumb brushed your cheek, you lightly raised your head to gaze up at him.

You nodded slowly. “Yeah.” Steve smiled, pulling you back into his arms without another word. Outside the shed, you could hear muffled voices preparing for what was to come. Inside, the world became quiet, holding onto Steve felt like the first deep breath you’d taken all day.

What happened after that was a blur, you had watched Joyce and Jonathan hold Will steady as the heat forced the mind flayer from his body. Eleven had made her return to Hawkins, she and Hopper had left to close the gate for good.

The demodogs collapsed in the tunnels, Will laughed again, Joyce smiled through her mourning. Jonathan and Nancy found their way to one another without guilt, and though it stung, you no longer hated seeing them together. Healing you realized, wasn’t about forgetting, it was choosing to keep living despite the memories.

Steve never brought up his confession again, like he’d promised. He drove you home from school, lied beside you during nightmares until you fell asleep again, never asked for anything in return.

The gymnasium of Hawkins Middle School looked different from the last time you’d been in it, white streamers hung from the ceiling, silver stars glittered beneath the lights. A handmade banner stretched across the walls, reading snow ball ‘84.

You smoothed your dress down for the hundredth time that night as a voice sounded next to you. “You ready?”

Steve looked very handsome in a tuxedo that was slightly too small for him, his hair perfectly styled as usual.

“You clean up nicely.” You teased, with a smile.

“So do you.” He returned the compliment, voice coming out shyer than intended.

After you decided to become a chaperone, you’d only had one person in mind when they’d told you that you could bring a guest. Steve hadn’t even let you finish before saying yes.

“Can I have a dance?” He asked cheekily, extending a hand to you.

“I was hoping you’d ask.” You responded, his hand clasped yours, still hesitant, not sure if he was allowed.

For a while, neither of you spoke as you joined the dance floor, ignoring each time you accidentally stepped onto his shoes. The music filled the silence between you comfortably, until you looked up at him.

“Steve?” You asked.

He looked down at you, his heart already starting to race. “Hm?” He hummed.

“I have an answer now…for what you told me at the Byers.” You said quietly.

“Really?” He completely stopped swaying, the hopeful expression that shined on his illuminating features almost made you laugh.

Instead, you bit the inside of your cheek to hide your smile. “I do.” You confirmed.

He swallowed thickly. “You can still say no.”

You looked into his eyes, “I’m choosing not to say no.” You said, and he did a double take the moment the words registered.

“I love you.” You confessed, the words settled between you.

Steve felt his heart stop, hands pausing at your waist. “You do?” He asked.

You smiled, a full one that was only meant for him. “You were there when I had no one. I don’t know what I’d do without you, Steve.” You shook your head, not even wanting to contemplate it.

Steve smiled so brightly his cheeks felt sore, very carefully he cupped your jaw. He gave you every opportunity to pull away, but you didn’t, you only leaned further into his touch.

When your lips connected, it wasn’t rushed or desperate, the only thing that could be felt was the undying love you had for one another, two people that realized their hearts had been beating for each other this whole time.

You pulled back just enough to rest your forehead against his. “Guess this means you’ll let me take you on a real date?” Steve asked hopefully.

You laughed, pretending to think about it. “Don’t push your luck, Harrington.”

He grinned, winking at you. “Looks like I’ve got plenty of it.”

He gave you that lopsided grin, the one that always sat just shy of confident when it was directed at you. “Hey. Dropping these off before Henderson scratches them. I swear he puts the tapes in the VCR with the same enthusiasm he has for summoning demodogs.” He lifted a paper bag full of rentals and offered it out.

You stepped aside to let him in, taking the bag but not before his fingers brushed yours. The contact sent a flick of warmth up your arm, not the dramatic kind that makes people gasp in books, but the kind that catches quietly under your ribs. You weren’t sure if he noticed, but his hand pulled away a little quicker than necessary.

Dustin shouted something from the back room, loud enough to rattle the vents. Steve huffed a laugh and nudged the door closed behind him as he walked into the living room. He kicked his shoes off like he’d done it a thousand times, because he had. This place had become familiar to him. You’d become familiar to him. And somehow that knowledge warmed you more than the afternoon sun slanting across the carpet.

He flopped onto the couch, elbows over the back, letting his head fall back dramatically. “I swear, every time I pick something up from Family Video, Kline shows up to yell about our shelving. Every time. Like I chose the shelving. Like I personally installed the shelving.” He peeked at you through the fall of his hair, the grin returning. “Anyway. I figured you might need something new to watch, unless Dustin has you trapped in one of his weird sci-fi marathons.”

You settled on the other end of the couch, cross-legged, the tapes set between you. “It’s not that weird,” you said softly, though the smile gave you away. “And you survived the marathons, too.”

“Barely.” He let out a dramatic sigh, then let the act falter as he turned to face you fully. His knee brushed yours in a way that felt almost accidental but never quite was when it came from him. He always hovered near you—not close enough to overwhelm, but close enough that you felt seen. You’d gotten used to it. Maybe too used to it.

There was something different in his face today, something you couldn’t place. Not nerves exactly, but something halfway between steady and uncertain. His gaze lingered on you longer than normal before shifting to the tapes in your lap. “You find anything good?”

Your fingers drifted over the covers without thinking. “Trying to. He mixed everything up again. I’m pretty sure one of these cases has two different movies shoved in it.”

“Classic Henderson,” Steve murmured, but he didn’t seem focused on the tapes anymore. His eyes had softened in a way that made your pulse stumble. He looked like he was about to say something—something real, something heavy enough that he hesitated. “Hey, I was actually gonna—”

Dustin barreled into the hallway, a crash of sound and limbs. “Steve! You’re here! Good, because I figured out what was wrong with the antenna, and you have to see it, it’s so sick—”

Steve deflated in an instant, head dropping back against the couch. The moment snapped like it had never been there at all. Dustin launched himself into the room, completely oblivious, waving a broken piece of metal dangerously close to Steve’s face.

Steve sat up with a tight smile, rubbing his hands over his jeans like he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t. You felt the shift, that soft invisible thread between you pulled taut before disappearing entirely. He shot you a glance—quick, almost apologetic—before catching whatever Dustin was waving at him. “Okay, okay, dude, relax before you impale me. What’d you do now?”

Dustin launched into an enthusiastic explanation, words tumbling over each other. Steve tried to look interested. Mostly, he looked like a man who’d been shoved out of a doorway he’d just worked up the courage to walk through.

You sat quietly beside him, listening to your brother ramble, but your attention kept drifting back to Steve. It was in the set of his shoulders, the unfinished words still lingering behind his eyes. He’d been trying to tell you something. And whatever it was, he wasn’t done trying.

You weren’t sure what would happen when he finally managed to get you alone long enough to say it. But for the first time in a long time, the thought didn’t scare you. It sent that same gentle warmth rising in your chest—the kind you didn’t quite know how to name yet, but couldn’t ignore anymore.

---

The ride home from the Wheelers’ had always been a cramped, loud, chaotic experience, mostly because Dustin treated the back seat like a moving laboratory. Tonight was no different—he’d tossed a backpack stuffed with papers, wires, and half-built gadgets across the seat before climbing in, muttering about how he needed to reorganize everything “for efficiency.” Steve had glanced at you in the driveway with a weary, amused smile that told you he already regretted offering the ride, but he’d unlocked the car anyway. He always did.

You slid into the passenger seat and buckled in while Dustin slammed the back door shut with enough force to make Steve wince. Once everyone was settled, Steve started the car, the headlights cutting through the warm, late-evening haze that hovered over the quiet street. The windows were cracked just enough to let in the summer air, and you rested your hands in your lap, feeling that comfortable, familiar tension settle between you and Steve—the kind that was never unpleasant, only warm and awkward in a way you’d grown used to.

He glanced over as he pulled away from the curb. “So. Did you guys have fun or did you suffer through another round of Wheeler Monopoly hell?”

The question was casual, but the look he slid you was not. It lingered, soft at the corners, a little nervous in the middle. You felt the weight of it press lightly beneath your ribs. “It wasn’t that bad,” you said quietly. “Dustin tried to cheat four times.”

“Hey!” Dustin snapped from the back seat. “Three times. The fourth doesn’t count because the rulebook didn’t specify—”

“It absolutely specified, dude,” Steve said, shaking his head. “It’s a published game. There are rules. You can’t just invent your own stock market mid-round.”

“I was innovating,” Dustin insisted, already rummaging for something in his bag.

Steve exhaled through a laugh and shot another glance your way. He always did that—threw his jokes toward the air, but aimed his eyes at you, as if checking whether you were smiling. And you were, even if you looked down to hide it.

The road curved toward your neighborhood, streetlamps drifting past in golden streaks. From the corner of your eye, you noticed Steve tap his fingers nervously on the wheel, like he was working himself up to something. His shoulders were tight, his jaw flexing softly the way it did when he was trying to gather courage without drawing attention.

After a moment of silence, he tried again. “Listen, I—” He cleared his throat. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you. Actually, not tell you, more like… ask you? Or maybe—”

Dustin leaned forward between the seats so suddenly that both you and Steve flinched. “Okay, so imagine this,” he said, breathless with excitement, waving a notebook near Steve’s face. “If I rewire the antenna and get the gain up by just, like, one decibel—”

“Dude, hold on,” Steve said, swatting the notebook away gently. He tried to keep his voice even, but you could hear the frustration simmering underneath. “I’m talking.”

“You weren’t saying anything important yet.”

“I was literally in the middle of talking!”

“To me,” Dustin corrected smugly. “You weren’t saying anything interesting to me.”

Steve inhaled slowly through his nose, gripping the wheel like it might keep him grounded. You bit the inside of your cheek to stop from laughing, because you could see the exact moment he abandoned his almost-confession and resigned himself to Dustin’s rambling.

“Just… go back to whatever you were doing back there,” Steve muttered.

“You mean saving science? Already on it.” Dustin retreated to the back seat and immediately started scribbling again.

Steve let out a long, slow breath, the kind he usually saved for demobat stories or Customer Service Nightmares at Family Video. He didn’t look at you yet. You didn’t look at him either. The interrupted moment hung between you, fragile and obvious.

When he finally risked a side glance, the faintest smile tugged at his mouth—a mix of embarrassment and something softer. “Anyway,” he said quietly, “I was just gonna ask if you, uh… had a good time tonight.”

He’d changed his wording at the last second. You heard it. You wondered if he knew you heard it. “I did,” you murmured, letting your gaze settle on him. “It was nice.”

That small smile of his grew a little, warming the dim car. He was about to say something else—you saw the breath he pulled in, the shift of his shoulders—but Dustin cut him off again. “Steve, turn left! You missed the shortcut!”

“It’s literally two minutes longer,” Steve snapped. “Two minutes! We’re talking blocks, man, not a cross-country trip.” You stifled another laugh. Steve shot you an exhausted, pleading look before turning onto the familiar street. When he parked outside your house, he put the car in park but didn’t immediately shut off the engine. His fingers tapped the wheel again, a restless rhythm. “Hey,” he tried once more, turning slightly in his seat. “I wanted to—”

“Steve, can you help me carry my stuff!?” Dustin bellowed as he launched himself out of the back seat, already grabbing for the door to your house. “I need both hands and probably yours too!”

Steve sagged back against his seat like someone had deflated him. He dragged a hand down his face, muttering something that sounded like a plea for mercy.

You reached for the door handle, hesitating for just a heartbeat. “You can tell me whatever it was later,” you said, voice soft enough that only he would hear.

His eyes found yours again. Whatever he’d been trying to say was still there, simmering just under the surface. A slow smile curved onto his lips, small but genuine. “Yeah,” he murmured. “Later.”

You stepped out of the car, the warm summer air brushing your face. Dustin yelled your name from the porch. Steve groaned, climbed out of the driver’s side, and shot you one last look before going to help your brother.

It wasn’t the confession he’d wanted to give you. But it was coming—you could feel it. And judging by the way he watched you walk toward the house, he wasn’t giving up yet.

---

Family Video was quiet in that late-afternoon way that made the fluorescent lights buzz louder than any customer ever could. The aisles were empty, the return bin was half-full, and Steve was leaning over the counter like a man whose soul had been wrestled out of his body. He kept folding and unfolding the same tape return slip, eyes unfocused, jaw set in that defeated angle that Robin recognized instantly. She flicked a pen cap at his shoulder. “Okay, what’s with the tragic slouch? Did someone rent all the good horror movies again, or are you just being dramatic for attention?”

Steve didn’t look up. He just made a noise that could’ve meant many things: frustration, embarrassment, existential collapse. Robin sighed, circled around the counter, and planted herself across from him with the posture of someone preparing for an interrogation. “Talk,” she demanded, snapping her fingers in front of his face.

He swatted her hand away. “Stop. I’m not a dog.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” she muttered. “Now spill it. Your energy today is… weird. And not the usual ‘I’m pretty but tired’ weird. This is ‘something happened and I’m repressing it like a coward’ weird.”

Steve groaned, then let his forehead drop onto the counter with an audible thunk. “I tried to talk to her again.”

Robin perked up instantly. “Oh! Finally! Great! So what’d you say? Did you ask her out? Did you actually form a full sentence? Did you—”

“I didn’t get that far,” he mumbled into the countertop. “Dustin wouldn’t shut up.”

Robin blinked once. “Like… interrupting you?”

“Like climbing over the front seat of my car with a notebook to show me a sketch of an antenna while I was trying to confess my feelings.” Steve lifted his head, eyes hollow with dramatic suffering. “It was like being attacked by a hyperactive raccoon.”

Robin snorted so hard she almost choked. “God, that’s beautiful. Horrible. Hilarious. But mostly horrible.”

“Thank you for your support,” he said dryly.

“Oh, I’m supporting you,” she assured, tapping the counter rhythmically. “Just not your terrible strategy. You need to stop trying to talk to her when Dustin is within a three-mile radius. He’s like a tiny tornado with opinions.”

Steve pushed his hair back with both hands. “I know, I know. I just thought maybe he’d… I don’t know, fall asleep? Or get distracted? Or explode?”

“He’s Dustin,” Robin reminded him, eyebrows raised. “He gets more energized as the day goes on. By midnight he’s seconds away from achieving orbital lift.”

Steve sighed again and leaned back against the counter, arms crossed tight. “I just… I’m not good at this stuff, okay? She’s not like those other girls I used to date. I don’t want to rush it or freak her out.”

“That’s sweet,” Robin said. “But also incredibly stupid.”

He glared at her. “How is that stupid?”

“Because you’re overthinking it, dingus,” she said, flicking his forehead as punishment. “She already likes you.”

Steve froze, blinking. “She—she does?”

“Oh my god.” Robin pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes. “You’re helpless. You’re actually helpless.”

“That’s not an answer!” he hissed.

Robin dropped her hands and stared him down, speaking slowly for maximum effect. “She. Likes. You.”

Steve stared back, a flush creeping up the side of his neck. “You don’t know that.”

“I absolutely do.” She jabbed a finger into his chest. “You get all flustered and stupid around her, and she gets all quiet and wide-eyed around you. It’s like watching two baby deer try to merge onto a highway.”

Steve let out a despairing noise. “I can’t believe you compared me to a deer.”

“Oh, you’re both deer,” she insisted. “Deer in love. Pathetic. Adorable. Infuriatingly slow.”

He ran a hand over his face again, groaning. “I just… I want it to be the right moment. And every time it almost is—”

“Dustin blows it,” Robin finished. “Because that kid has zero awareness of anything except science and snacks.”

Steve laughed, but it was tired around the edges. “Yeah. Pretty much.”

Robin planted her hands on her hips like she was about to deliver a lecture. “Okay. Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to ask her out. Soon. Not ‘eventually’ or ‘when the universe aligns.’ Soon. Before Dustin adopts you into his personal schedule for the week.”

“I’m working on it,” he insisted.

“No, you’re not,” she said. “You’re waiting for signs and moments and dramatic lighting. What you need to do is open your mouth and say, ‘Hey, I like you. Want to go out?’”

Steve looked deeply scandalized. “That’s—no, that’s too blunt. I can’t just say it like that.”

“Well, you definitely can’t say it while Henderson is crawling on the car seat like a feral goblin.”

“Okay, that’s fair.”

Robin leaned her elbows against the counter, eyeing him closely. “Be honest. Are you scared because she’s quiet?”

He hesitated before nodding once. “I don’t want to make her uncomfortable. She’s been through… a lot. We all have, but she… you know.”

Robin softened. “Yeah. I get it. But trust me, she’s not scared of you. She’s scared of… saying the wrong thing. Or being too much. Or not enough. You two speak in the same dialect.”

Steve’s breath stalled at that, chest tightening with something warm and nervous. “So… what do I do?”

“What I’ve been telling you from the start.” Robin shrugged, smirking. “Ask her out, dingus.”

The bell above the door chimed as a customer wandered in, and Robin gave Steve one last pointed look before heading into the aisle to help. Steve stayed behind the counter, resting both palms flat on its surface, grounding himself. He took a deep breath and whispered to no one, “Okay. Ask her out. I can do that. I can do that.”

But even as he said it, he already knew one thing for sure: if Dustin showed up again, this plan didn’t stand a chance. And somehow, that made him smile anyway.

---

The Henderson garage always smelled faintly like dust, motor oil, and whatever science experiment Dustin had last abandoned on the workbench. That afternoon, the air was warm enough that the open door let in a slow spill of sunlight, brightening the cluttered space in strips. You stood beside one of the folding tables, sorting through the mess of screws and wires Dustin had dumped out “for easier access,” which, in reality, only made everything harder to find.

Steve hovered nearby with a half-hearted attempt at organization. He picked up tools, put them down, nudged wires into a neater line, and occasionally wiped his palms on his jeans like he wasn’t sure what to do with his hands. You noticed the way he kept drifting closer, every few seconds glancing at the house as if waiting for an opening that hadn’t come yet.

Dustin had barreled inside moments earlier shouting something about a “crucial component” and promising to return quickly. Experience had taught you that “quickly” usually meant at least fifteen minutes. The sudden silence left the garage feeling strangely private, a pocket of quiet neither of you were used to sharing without your brother’s voice filling it.

Steve leaned a hip against the table, crossing his arms loosely. “You’d think for someone so obsessed with organization, he’d, I don’t know… actually organize things.”

A soft laugh slipped out of you before you could hide it. “He says he has a system.”

“Yeah, well, his system is ‘pile everything in the same place and pray.’”

You didn’t mean to meet his eyes, but when you did, the warmth there caught you off guard. He smiled—not the big, charming grin he saved for customers or jokes, but the smaller one he used when it was just you. Something quieter, something that made your stomach tug downward and your breath lift higher at the same time.

For a moment you thought he might look away. Instead he took a step closer, letting his fingers trail lightly over the table until they stopped near yours. He didn’t touch you, but the space between you shrank until it was impossible not to feel the gravity of him. “Hey,” he said softly, more serious now, “can I ask you something?”

Your pulse jumped. He didn’t try to hide the nerves this time—his voice was careful, his eyes steady but uncertain, like he was testing thin ice. You tucked a loose screw back into the tray just to have something to do, but you nodded. “Yeah. What is it?”

Steve drew in a slow breath, shoulders rising, then dropping. He shifted so he was standing directly across from you now, close enough that you felt his warmth even through the small distance. “I’ve been… trying to find the right moment to say this. Probably overthinking it. Definitely overthinking it,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “But every time I try, something happens, and then I lose the nerve, and—”

He stopped, hands falling to his sides. His gaze flicked to your lips before returning to your eyes, almost apologetically, like the glance had slipped out by accident. “I really like—”

He didn’t get the rest out because Dustin slammed the back door open so hard it ricocheted off the wall with a loud crack. “Found it!” he shouted triumphantly.

Steve jolted back like someone had yanked him by the collar. You startled, the sound hitting you like a small explosion in the otherwise quiet garage.

Dustin sprinted inside with a fistful of random parts, not noticing the way Steve took two hasty steps backward or the way your breath had caught halfway up your throat. He launched straight into an explanation, words tumbling over each other at impossible speed.

“Okay, okay, okay, so remember last week when the signal strength dropped? I swear it wasn’t my fault, but I triple-checked, and it turns out the grounding was off by like a millimeter, but I fixed it, and then I realized if we attach this—this right here—” He shoved the piece of metal inches from Steve’s face. Steve blinked rapidly, stunned, trapped in the whirlwind of Dustin’s enthusiasm. “—then the whole thing works even better! Isn’t that awesome?”

“Yeah,” Steve croaked, the word paper-thin. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Yeah, buddy. That’s—uh. Great.”

Dustin looked between the two of you, oblivious to the tension he’d vaporized. “Come on, we have to test it. Steve, you hold the end with the clamp. And don’t drop it this time.”

You watched as Dustin pulled Steve by the wrist toward the other table. Steve threw you a look over his shoulder—a silent, desperate I was so close—before letting himself be dragged into whatever experiment Dustin was constructing.

You swallowed, grounding yourself against the table as the adrenaline slowly ebbed. You replayed the moment in your mind, the warmth in his voice, the way he’d leaned in like he was finally ready to say the thing he’d been dancing around for weeks.

You didn’t need the rest to know what he’d meant. And even though the confession had shattered midair, it left a soft, glowing heat in your chest that didn’t disappear.

Steve shot you another look while Dustin explained the next step, his expression full of apology and frustration and wanting. He wasn’t done trying. And now, for the first time, you knew that for certain. Even if Dustin was determined to make it the longest confession in history.

---

The Wheelers’ basement was the kind of cramped, mismatched space that should’ve felt chaotic, yet somehow always managed to settle into its own kind of rhythm. Blankets draped over the back of the couch, half-finished board games littered the coffee table, and a small mountain of snacks threatened to avalanche off the folding card table by the wall. The worn carpet muffled footsteps, and the single lamp cast the whole room in a warm amber glow that made everyone look a little softer, a little more like themselves.

Mike sat cross-legged near the TV, fiddling with the dials like he was performing surgery. Will had his sketchpad propped on his knee, quietly drawing as he waited. Lucas and Max were arguing over whose movie pick was superior—which mostly meant Max was calling Lucas boring and Lucas insisting she had no taste. Eleven sat beside Max, combing her fingers through a bowl of M&M’s in strict color order. Nancy leaned against the far wall, arms crossed as she offered periodic commentary, half amused and half exhausted by the group’s indecision.

Robin stood behind the couch drumming her fingers along the backrest, eyes drifting toward you with the kind of knowing smirk that made you want to hide under a blanket. She’d been watching Steve all night like she was tracking wildlife behavior for a nature documentary.

And Steve—Steve had claimed the floor beside you the moment everyone settled. He hadn’t even pretended to consider another spot. He’d just dropped down next to you, close enough that your knees brushed whenever either of you shifted. Every now and then you felt the light press of his shoulder barely grazing yours, the warmth of him almost magnetic. He looked relaxed, but you’d known him long enough to recognize the tension coiled beneath the easy slouch. He wasn’t just sitting near you; he was waiting.

The chaos around you built into its usual storm of voices, and you let yourself sink into the noise until it felt like background static. You were comfortable like this—surrounded by people you trusted, tucked into a corner where nothing demanded too much of you. Steve must’ve sensed the way your shoulders unknotted, because he leaned in slightly, voice pitched softer than the rest. “Hey,” he murmured, letting the word drift just for you. “You holding up with all these maniacs fighting about cinema like it’s life or death?”

You smiled, looking down at your hands for a moment. “I’ve witnessed worse. Dustin tried to convince me Star Wars counts as a Thanksgiving movie.”

Steve snorted, head tipping just a little closer. “He tried that on me too. Henderson logic is a dangerous thing.”

The way he said it—soft and amused, with that small, private grin—made your cheeks warm. You felt it before you could control it, and you ducked your head slightly, pretending to focus on Max and Lucas arguing in the middle of the room. Max pointed her movie case at Lucas like a weapon. “This is a classic. You have no taste.”

Lucas folded his arms. “You say that about everything you like.”

“That’s because I’m right.”

Robin leaned closer to Nancy and muttered, “I’m taking bets on when this turns into a wrestling match.”

Steve laughed under his breath, then looked back at you. The basement noise faded as his attention settled directly on you, the air shifting in that fluttery way it always did when he got close. His knee nudged yours—gentle, deliberate. You looked up, and the moment your eyes met, something tender flickered across his face.

He angled toward you fully now, ignoring the group entirely. “Hey,” he said again, quieter this time, “there’s something I’ve been wanting to—”

“Oh my god.” Dustin’s voice ricocheted down the stairs like a missile.

Steve closed his eyes, shoulders slumping in a despair that bordered on spiritual defeat. You startled just slightly as Dustin burst into the basement carrying two bags of popcorn and a bowl of something that was probably too sticky to be allowed near the carpet.

“I got snacks!” Dustin declared triumphantly. “Mike, move over! Will, stop drawing sad trees! Everyone, I have news!”

Robin groaned. “Here we go.”

Nancy pinched the bridge of her nose. “Do we want to know?”

Dustin ignored everyone and marched directly toward you and Steve. “Okay, so, you’re all gonna think this is genius, because it is,” he announced, setting the popcorn in the middle of the floor like it was an offering to the gods. “I mixed extra sugar into the caramel corn so we can stay awake through Lucas’ boring movie pick.”

Lucas sputtered. “It’s not boring!”

Max kicked him lightly. “It’s very boring.”

Steve tried to inhale, tried to restart the thing he’d been about to say, but Dustin plopped down between the two of you before he could get a syllable out, wedging himself with a full-body flop. Steve’s head snapped toward the ceiling like he was pleading for divine help.

“Dude,” Steve said weakly, “I—I was literally talking—”

“Great, you can finish later,” Dustin chirped while shoving popcorn into Steve’s hands. “Right now we need someone to test if the caramel-to-corn ratio is perfect.”

Robin snickered from behind the couch. “That’s the face of a man in agony.” Steve shot her a death glare. Robin only winked.

You sat very still, aware of how drastically the moment had shifted. Steve’s knee no longer brushed yours. His shoulder was no longer angled toward you. His expression, however, still carried that raw, half-exposed something he’d tried so hard to reveal before the interruption.

He looked at you again, a brief, fragile glance over Dustin’s head—apology, longing, frustration, all tangled together. You smiled gently, a small reassurance even if the moment was lost. His chest eased, just a bit.

Dustin, oblivious, leaned back between you both. “Okay! So. Who’s ready for a triple-feature?!”

Mike groaned loud enough to shake dust from the ceiling. Eleven offered a polite but confused nod. Will kept drawing. Nancy debated walking out. Lucas and Max started another argument. Robin leaned over the couch, whispering something at Steve that made him mutter a threat with no real bite.

And you sat there, tucked between your friends and your brother, with Steve only inches away behind an accidental Dustin-shaped barricade.

Another moment ruined.

Another truth postponed.

But Steve caught your eye again, a small promise resting quietly behind the frustration. He wasn’t giving up. Not yet. Not at all.

And you found yourself hoping—maybe for the first time—that Dustin might eventually take a snack break long enough for everything to finally fall into place.

---

A Saturday afternoon at your place was usually a safe bet for quiet, especially when Dustin wasn’t home. He’d taken off earlier with Lucas and Mike, something about a “high-stakes campaign planning session,” which meant you finally had a few hours where the house wasn’t vibrating with teenage enthusiasm. Steve had stopped by under the guise of “checking on that toolbox he left in the garage,” even though you both knew he’d left it on purpose the last time he was here.

You were sitting beside him on the couch, legs tucked beneath you, a gentle buzz of nerves threading through your chest. He was closer than usual—not subtle about it, either. His knee brushed yours whenever he shifted, and he kept glancing over with this determined little crease between his brows. You could tell he’d spent all morning psyching himself up to try again.

He cleared his throat and leaned toward you, elbows on his knees, hands clasped like he needed to keep them steady. “So I’ve been thinking,” he started, voice softer than the TV hum filling the room. “There’s something I’ve, uh… wanted to ask you. For a while.”

Your breath caught, your pulse fluttering. You met his eyes, and the look there—hesitant, hopeful, warm—made the room feel smaller. You felt him gather courage, felt something inside you answer it without needing words.

His knee bumped yours again, this time deliberate. “I just— when it’s us, like this… I feel—”

The front door slammed open so hard the hinges squealed. “There you are!” Max’s voice echoed down the hallway.

Steve’s shoulders sagged with the kind of dramatic despair that would’ve been funny if your heart hadn’t been thumping so hard a moment before. You both sat up straighter as Max stormed in, Eleven close behind her, both flushed from the walk and carrying enough urgency to power the whole house.

“Okay,” Max announced breathlessly, hands on her hips, “we need a ride.”

Eleven nodded with solemn intensity. “Very important.”

Steve blinked. “Why… why do you need a ride?”

“Because Robin said it was a good idea,” Max said, as if that answered everything.

You frowned. “Where is Robin?”

A beat later, Robin burst in through the still-open door, out of breath and dramatically pointing at the girls like an indictment. “They asked me first. But I don’t drive. And I told them that. Repeatedly.”

Eleven stepped forward with wide, pleading eyes. “Mall?”

Steve groaned into his hands. “Right now?”

Max crossed her arms, fully annoyed. “Yes, right now. We need new tape for Eleven’s headphones, a book I have to return, and Robin wants pretzels. Also, I’m bored.”

Robin raised a finger. “The pretzels are a necessary part of this trip. Not optional.”

Steve exhaled, long and pained, rubbing his face like fate had personally wronged him. You watched him, and even though frustration drew tight lines around his mouth, you saw the faint flicker of something else—desperation. Not for escape, but for the moment he’d been trying so hard to build. He’d almost done it this time. He had been right there, the words practically in the air between you when the cavalry burst in.

Max stepped closer. “Can you take us?”

You opened your mouth, but Steve sat up quickly, eyes wide. “Wait, she doesn’t have to. I can—”

“Nope,” Max interrupted. “We saw your car on the street. There’s a giant metal pipe sticking out the window and it looks like someone attacked your backseat with a screwdriver.”

Steve blanched. “That was Dustin’s… whatever. I told him not to—”

Eleven nodded solemnly. “It is broken.”

“It’s not broken,” Steve protested weakly, then looked at you with a kind of pleading horror. “Please don’t let them make you drive them. You don’t have to—”

Robin clapped her hands together. “You’re literally the only one here with a functioning car and a valid license.”

Max added, “also the only one we trust with directions.”

Eleven finished with, “Please? Please, please?”

Their combined staring was intense enough to melt steel. You sighed softly, looking at Steve with an apologetic tilt of your head. “It’s okay. I can take them.”

Steve’s mouth opened like he wanted to protest again, but something gentler ran through his expression. He softened, sitting back a little like he didn’t want to push. “Only if you want to,” he said quietly, voice low enough for just you.

“I don’t mind,” you said, even though part of you did—not the drive itself, but the interruption, the way the moment had slipped through your fingers again just when it felt like it might finally settle.

Max grabbed your hand and tugged you toward the door. “Yes! Thank you.”

Robin followed, muttering about soft pretzels and cinnamon sugar. Eleven smiled at you like you were the solution to every problem she’d ever had. You moved toward the doorway, keys in hand, but paused when you felt a gentle touch on your wrist. Steve had stepped after you, stopping you with light fingers that traced warmth across your skin. “Hey,” he murmured, eyes meeting yours with that same earnest something from earlier, “when you get back… can we finish that conversation?”

The question hit you softly, settling under your ribs in a place already warm for him. You nodded. “Yeah. We can.”

A slow, relieved smile spread across his face, not the charming one he used to flirt or joke, but something smaller, realer—something just for you.

Robin’s voice echoed from outside. “Let’s go, I’m starving!”

You stepped away from Steve and toward the chaos gathering around your car, but you looked back once. He stood in the doorway with his hands in his pockets, trying and failing to hide the way he was smiling. This time, you knew the moment wouldn’t slip away forever. It was waiting for you. So was he.

---

The mall on a Saturday was a maze of sound — laughter echoing off tile, music thumping faintly from different stores, the squeak of sneakers on polished floors, the chatter of people weaving around one another like they were all part of some vast busy hive. The second you stepped inside with Max, Eleven, and Robin, it felt like stepping into a warm wave of noise and movement. Max immediately scanned the storefronts like a general surveying a battlefield, Eleven stayed close to your side with quiet determination, and Robin pointed at the pretzel shop with the single-minded hunger of someone who had already been thinking about it for hours.

The girls moved quickly, practically dragging you along, their energy sweeping you forward before you even realized you were fully inside. The light overhead was bright, reflecting off the glossy floor, and you adjusted to it slowly, breathing in the smell of cinnamon sugar and perfume samples drifting from the nearby department store. Even with the crowd, the moment felt surprisingly calm—nothing like the monster-hunting days, nothing like the chaos of Dustin’s science experiments or the loud clusters of voices in the Wheeler basement. Just… the mall. Just a typical weekend afternoon.

Max took the lead, weaving down the walkway toward the bookstore. “This won’t take long,” she promised, even though her tone strongly suggested she planned to browse. “I just need to drop off the return, maybe look at the new releases, maybe check the comics—"

Robin groaned dramatically. “I’m going to starve before the pretzels. And then who’s gonna explain to Steve that you let me die of hunger in a suburban mall? He’ll never forgive you.”

Eleven blinked up at you. “She needs pretzels first,” she said with the same seriousness she used when discussing mind flayers.

You smiled because you knew it was hopeless to try changing their priorities. “Okay. Pretzels first, then the bookstore.”

Robin fist-pumped like she’d just won a war. “Yes. Justice prevails.”

You led the way toward the food court, letting the steady hum of conversation settle around you. Eleven walked close enough that her sleeve brushed yours every few steps, her eyes darting between the crowds with a watchfulness that came from experience, not fear. Max strode ahead, confident and unbothered, her ponytail swinging behind her with each purposeful movement.

When you reached the pretzel stand, Robin stepped forward eagerly. “Four pretzels,” she told the teenager behind the counter. “One cinnamon, one butter, one salted, and one mystery pick for Eleven.”

The kid blinked, confused. “Mystery pick?”

Robin waved broadly. “Dealer’s choice. Make it fun.” Max rolled her eyes but didn’t argue. Eleven seemed excited by the idea, gaze fixed on the warming racks with awe.

You helped gather napkins and drinks while everyone else debated who got which pretzel, though Eleven’s mystery pretzel was so coated in cheese that Robin declared it a masterpiece of culinary chaos. You all found an empty table near the railing overlooking the lower floor, and the four of you sat down, the air filled with warmth and chatter that felt strangely comforting.

Max took a bite of her pretzel before pointing it at you. “So what were you and Steve talking about before we barged in?”

Robin inhaled sharply and kicked Max lightly under the table. “We don’t ask those questions.”

“But I just did,” Max said, completely unapologetic. “I’m curious.”

Eleven tilted her head. “You and Steve were sitting very close.”

Heat crept up the back of your neck, and you tried to hide it by taking a long sip of your drink. “We were just talking,” you said softly, though you felt the weight of the truth under your ribs. You were almost talking about something else—something bigger—and that weight felt warm in a way that wasn’t unpleasant at all.

Max watched you knowingly, like she was piecing together a puzzle she’d already solved. “Uh-huh. Sure. Talking.”

Robin sighed with the posture of someone carrying too much knowledge. “We’re not interrogating her. We’re here for snacks, not emotional espionage.”

You wanted to thank her, but before you could, Eleven leaned in with genuine curiosity. “Do you like him?”

Your breath caught, and the world seemed to soften—not collapse, not tighten, just… soften. The noise of the mall blurred into a distant hum, and your hands stilled around the napkin you were folding subconsciously.

Max kicked her under the table. “El! You can’t just ask!”

Eleven frowned. “Why not? If she likes him, she should say.” Robin groaned but didn’t disagree.

You set the napkin down slowly, heart thumping against your ribs in that quiet, fluttery way it always did whenever Steve said your name a little too gently or leaned just a little too close. “I… I don’t know,” you said, though that wasn’t the truth. You knew. You just weren’t used to saying it out loud. “Maybe.”

Max raised an eyebrow. “Maybe yes?”

You exhaled, looking down at your hands. “Maybe… yes.”

Robin slapped her palms on the table and grinned like she’d been waiting for this revelation for months. “Finally. Emotional progress. Steve is going to combust when he hears that.”

You stared at her. “Robin!”

“What? He’s still alive. Mostly. Probably pacing in your living room right now practicing a speech.”

Eleven smiled brightly, lifting her pretzel. “I am happy,” she said, content and certain.

Max leaned back in her chair with smug satisfaction. “Called it.”

Despite the embarrassing warmth on your face, you felt something untangle inside you—something quiet, hopeful, and strangely steady. Saying it aloud didn’t feel as terrifying as you’d expected. If anything, it felt like you’d opened a small door that had been waiting for too long.

Robin nudged your foot under the table. “Finish your pretzel,” she said playfully. “We should get back soon. Wouldn’t want to keep loverboy waiting.”

You groaned, but a smile tugged at your lips anyway.

And across the mall, beyond the noise and the shining floors and the crowds moving in every direction, you found yourself thinking not about monsters or interruptions or whatever chaos awaited at home—but about Steve.

And the conversation he’d asked to finish.

---

Dustin had invited Lucas, Mike, and Will over with the promise of “the most important campaign decision of their lives,” which meant the basement was already cluttered with graph paper, dice, snack wrappers, and an unnecessary number of pencils. They were mid-argument about whether the party should take the mountain pass or the hidden forest trail when Steve wandered down the stairs, hands shoved in his pockets, pacing with a restless energy that immediately caught Dustin’s attention.

“Why are you down here?” Dustin asked, squinting at him suspiciously from behind his Dungeon Master screen. “Aren’t you supposed to be home? Or at work? Or not pacing around my basement like you’re trying to burn a hole into the carpet?”

Steve ignored him, and that alone was weird enough that Mike, Lucas, and Will exchanged glances. Steve never ignored Dustin. Not unless something had gone very, very wrong.

Steve raked a hand through his hair, tugging at the strands. He crossed the room, turned around, crossed it again, muttering under his breath. “She said we’d talk later. Later. Which could mean anything. What if something happens? What if she changes her mind? What if—”

Will’s pencil rolled off the table as he slowly lowered it. Mike froze mid-chew with a pretzel rod sticking out of his mouth. Lucas leaned back in his chair, eyebrows raised. Dustin set his pencil down slowly, staring at Steve with an expression that drew gradually from confusion into dawning horror. “Why do you look like you’re waiting for the apocalypse?”

Steve stopped pacing. “I mean—it might be. For me.”

Mike slapped a hand over his mouth, trying not to laugh. Lucas elbowed him hard. Will quietly slid his chair just a few inches farther away from the table.

Dustin rose from his seat like someone being pulled upward by invisible strings. His voice dropped to a deadly calm. “Steve. What did you do.”

Steve swallowed. “Okay, so don’t freak out—”

Instant freak-out. Dustin threw his hands up. “Why would you say that? Why would you say that unless there is something to freak out about?”

Will stood. Mike stood. Lucas stood. It was like watching prey animals rise together, ready to bolt.

Steve ran both hands down his face and groaned. “I didn’t do anything. I tried to do something. But, like… the universe hates me. Every time I get close, someone interrupts. Mostly you. Actually, almost always you.”

Dustin blinked twice. “Interrupts what?”

Steve held up a finger like he was about to explain something complicated. “Okay. Just listen. I wanted to talk to her—”

Will paled. Lucas’s eyes widened. Mike mouthed oh no under his breath.

“—because I really like—”

“No.” Dustin cut him off, both hands raised like he was physically blocking the words. “No. No, no, no. You’re not—you can’t—that’s my sister!” He said it like it was a curse, a prophecy, and a threat rolled into one.

Steve exhaled, bracing himself. “Yeah. I know. Believe me, I know. But I—”

Mike took a step toward the stairs. Lucas followed. Will whispered, “should we… leave?”

Mike nodded slowly. “We should leave.”

But Dustin wasn’t paying attention to anything except the tidal wave of emotion crashing over him. He advanced on Steve like a general ready to declare war. “You can’t like her!” Dustin yelled, jabbing a finger into Steve’s chest. “She’s my sister! There are rules!”

Steve threw up his hands. “What rules?”

“The unwritten ones!”

Lucas tugged Will toward the stairs. “Back away slowly.”

“Already doing that,” Will whispered, clutching his sketchbook to his chest.

Mike didn’t even whisper. “Steve, this is gonna be bad. Good luck,” he said before sprinting up the stairs and abandoning him entirely.

Dustin kept going, and Steve kept retreating until his back hit the wall. “You can’t—you can’t just date her! What if you break up? What if things get weird? What if she gets hurt? What if you hurt her? I can't—I can’t be stuck in the middle of that!” Steve opened his mouth to respond, but Dustin didn’t give him a chance. “And I swear—I swear— if you ever hurt her, I will kill you.”

Steve blinked. “Dustin, you can’t even reach my neck.”

“I’ll use a ladder!”

Steve threw his hands up. “Oh my god—listen! I would never hurt her. Ever. I like her. I’ve liked her. For a long time. Okay? That’s why I’m freaking out. That’s why I’m pacing. Because I’m terrified. Not of you—”

“Oh really?” Dustin snapped, crossing his arms.

“—but of her.”

Dustin paused. “Her?”

Steve nodded emphatically. “Yes! Do you remember the demogorgon? Because I do. I watched your sister take a baseball bat with nails in it and swing so hard the thing went flying. I have nightmares about that moment sometimes. She was feral.”

Dustin hesitated. “…okay, yeah, that was cool.”

“It was terrifying!”

“Also cool,” Dustin corrected, but the fire behind his words had dimmed. He stopped pacing, shoulders dropping slightly as the panic drained from his face. “She really was awesome that day.”

Steve softened, his voice calmer now. “I like her because she’s… her. And she deserves someone who actually pays attention. Someone who cares about her, and wants to make her feel safe, and doesn’t push her to be someone she’s not. I’m trying to be that person. But every time I try to tell her how I feel, you interrupt and drag me to test an antenna or fix a wire or—”

“That was important,” Dustin muttered weakly.

“It really wasn’t!”

Dustin went quiet. He looked at Steve, really looked at him, as if seeing him differently for the first time. The frantic defensiveness slowly melted into something begrudging, conflicted, but not outright hostile. After a long silence, Dustin let out a tired breath. “You really like her.”

Steve nodded. “Yeah. I really do.”

“And you’re not gonna screw it up.”

Steve shook his head. “Not if I can help it.”

Dustin pressed his lips together, thinking hard, weighing his loyalty to you against his loyalty to Steve. Eventually he let out a groan loud enough to shake dust from the ceiling. “Fine! Fine. But I swear, Harrington, if you hurt her—”

“I know,” Steve said quickly. “Ladder. Got it.”

Dustin pointed at him one last time. “And my point still stands!”

“Which point?”

“That she’s scarier than I’ll ever be.”

Steve actually laughed, shoulders relaxing for the first time in hours. “Yeah. She is.”

Dustin huffed, then turned toward the stairs. “I need a snack. And time to emotionally process this.”

From the top of the stairs, Mike’s voice drifted back down. “Is it safe to come back?”

“No!” Dustin shouted, slamming the door behind him.

And Steve let out a long, relieved breath—because the hardest part was over. Now all he had to do was actually talk to you.

---

You returned home before sunset, the sky outside tinted gold and pink as the heat of the day finally began to fade. The girls piled out of your car with arms full of pretzels, shopping bags, and the chaotic energy of teenagers loose in a mall. Max jogged ahead toward the front door, Eleven lingered close to you with a quiet smile, and Robin walked backward while lecturing both of them about “the importance of proper snack distribution in a household ecosystem.”

But the moment you stepped inside, the energy shifted. Something hung in the air—not tension, exactly, but a strange, anticipatory stillness. The lights in the living room were on. The TV was off. Steve was perched on the edge of the couch like he’d been waiting for hours and didn’t know what to do with his hands, his posture, or his entire existence.

Dustin stood beside him, arms crossed, nodding solemnly like he had just finished delivering a very long speech. All three girls froze mid-step.

Steve shot to his feet the second he saw you. “Hey. You’re back.”

You blinked, half smiling. “Yeah. We—"

“You,” Dustin interrupted loudly, pointing at Steve with one hand and at you with the other, “need to talk. Now. Immediately. Right now.”

You stared at him. “Dustin?”

Dustin nodded with the seriousness of a courtroom judge. “I’ve… reflected.” He placed a hand dramatically over his chest. “And I have decided that I am granting you two permission to have a conversation without interruptions.”

Robin’s eyebrows shot up to her hairline. “Oh god. He found out, didn’t he.”

Max elbowed Eleven and whispered, “told you.”

Steve’s face turned the shade of someone who had been emotionally waterboarded all afternoon. “Reflected,” he muttered. “He screamed at me for twenty minutes.”

Dustin glared at him. “Emotional reflection is loud sometimes.”

Robin snorted. Max barely held in a laugh. Eleven leaned close and whispered, “he must’ve been very loud.”

Dustin cleared his throat theatrically and stepped forward like he was taking center stage. “Anyway,” he said, arms spreading with dramatic flair, “I am officially leaving the premises. As are the rest of you.” He pointed toward the door like a tiny general evacuating troops. “Go. All of you. Get out. I need this to happen so my sister stops looking at Steve like a kicked puppy and Steve stops pacing grooves into our floor.”

Your face went hot. “Dustin!”

“What?” he said. “It’s embarrassing. For both of you. Fix it.”

Steve groaned into his hands.

Max shrugged and headed for the hallway. “Come on. Let’s leave the awkward adults alone.”

Eleven nodded gravely. “Important moment.”

Robin gave Steve a long, slow, knowing smirk. “Don’t choke, dingus.”

And just like that, the girls disappeared down the hall. Dustin lingered one more second, squinting at Steve like a overprotective watchdog. “Remember,” he warned, “I will absolutely end you if—”

“I know!” Steve snapped. “Ladder. Got it.”

“Good.” Dustin huffed, then looked at you, softened, and squeezed your arm gently. “He’s nervous. Be nice.”

“I’m always nice,” you murmured.

Steve made a strangled noise. Dustin pointed at him one more time, then marched off after the others. And then there was silence. The house felt suddenly huge. The space between you and Steve felt even bigger. He let out a long breath, rubbing the back of his neck as he looked at you with a dozen emotions flickering across his face—fear, hope, determination, affection. “So,” he said, voice rough but warm, “we… finally have a minute.”

You stepped farther into the room, closing the door behind you. “We do.”

He didn’t sit. He didn’t pace. He stayed exactly where he was, like moving even a step might break whatever fragile, shimmering moment had finally landed in his hands. “Look,” he started, letting his arms fall to his sides, “I’ve been trying to tell you something for—actually, I don’t even know how long anymore. Weeks? Months? A while. And I kept messing it up. Or people kept messing it up. Mostly Henderson.”

You breathed out a soft laugh. “He does that.”

“He does,” Steve agreed. Then his expression shifted—softer now, more sure. “But I’m glad he’s not here right now. Because I… I don’t want to keep dancing around this.”

You looked up at him, and the way he stared back made your chest tighten with something warm and heavy and sweet.

He took a steady breath. “I like you,” he said simply, without theatrics or stumbling, every word shaped with sincerity. “I really, really like you. More than I meant to. More than I planned to. Definitely more than I told Dustin when he cornered me today.”

You blinked, startled. “He cornered you?”

“Oh yeah. Full interrogation mode. I thought he was gonna map out my emotional failings on a chalkboard.” He shook his head, then took another step toward you, closing the distance until he was right in front of you—close enough to feel the quiet warmth radiating between you.

Your breath caught.

Steve swallowed, voice dropping softer. “And I know you’re… you. You get quiet. And nervous. And sometimes I can’t tell what you’re thinking. But I’ve seen the way you look at me sometimes. The same way I probably look at you. And I just—I needed you to know. Even if it freaked you out. Even if it scared me to say it.”

Your heart fluttered in your chest, skipping unevenly as you tried to gather your voice. “It doesn’t freak me out.”

He smiled—small, startled, almost relieved. “No?”

You shook your head, letting your eyes meet his without dropping away this time. “I… like you too.”

The warmth that spread across his face was immediate—bright, soft, disbelieving in a way that made something inside you loosen and settle all at once. He let out a breath he had clearly been holding for far too long, his shoulders dropping as tension melted from them.

He reached for your hand slowly, giving you room to pull back. You didn’t. His fingers brushed yours, then curled around them gently—warm and steady, not asking for anything more than the space you chose to give. “I was really scared you’d say no,” he admitted quietly.

“I was scared you’d get tired of trying,” you whispered.

He laughed under his breath—a soft, breathless sound—and shook his head. “Not a chance.”

The moment stretched comfortably, a soft glow settling between you both like something that had been waiting a long time to finally land. Then, from down the hall, “is it safe yet!?” Dustin shouted.

Steve groaned, squeezing your hand. “He’s going to make this so complicated.”

You smiled—full, warm, a little shy but no longer afraid of the feeling settling inside your chest. “We’ll handle him.”

Steve grinned. “Yeah. We will.”

And this time, nothing interrupted the moment you shared—warm hands, quiet breath, and the certainty that this was only the beginning.

everything taglist: @clxt-lamb1 @person-005