emma

most of the time, he made sure that nothing of his growing popularity would change anything that you two had.

you knew each other since you were teenagers, right after you met one of his younger sisters, kate.

she took you home, introduced you to her family and her “only brother around four sisters” joseph. or joe.

you became close real quick, and soon you ended up being even closer than you and kate.

you were with him when he started his career as an actor, encouraged him when he felt like nobody believed in him.

you watched him turn into the man he always wanted to be.

and with the time, your friendship turned into something more.

something deeper.

but none of you wanted to name it.

and you never did.

it was already late when you came home, feeling so pent up from the day, all you wanted was sleep.

you got out of your shoes, leaving them by the door as always before slipping out of your jacket.

your way lead you straight to the bathroom where you stood by the sink, brushing your teeth, scrolling through your phone when a message popped up.

joe 🐻: you okay?

a smile appeared on your face what felt like the first smile of the day, and you already pressed on the message to answer him.

you: felt better before. just got home.

thirty seconds, and his reply was there.

joe 🐻: hard day?

you: the hardest

joe 🐻: at least it’s over now. get some sleep. see ya tomorrow.

you: xx

the smile was still on your face when you put the phone away, spitting out the toothpaste.

that was his superpower. making you smile, even when you felt like you couldn’t.

you quickly combed your hair, got into some comfortable clothes before you fell into the soft sheets of your bed.

your phone stayed pressed against your chest as you looked at the ceiling, your mind starting to wander.

thinking about how stressful the day was and about how much you missed your best friend.

all you wanted to calm down a little, and there was only one thing that could help you with that, it always could.

you placed your phone on the nightstand, and splayed out all over your bed, staring back at the ceiling.

without even wanting to, you started to imagine his face hovering right over yours.

the face of your best friend.

maybe it was because you missed him so much. but your heart knew better.

it fluttered wildly in your chest, and you bit your bottom lip as your hands started to trace over your body.

your neck, your cleavage, down to your breasts, starting to play with them.

at first, you teased your nipples through the fabric, turning them into those hard, little peaks, screaming for more attention while soft little gasps fell from your lips.

you swallowed thickly, feeling how quick you got wet, and realized how long it has been since you did something like this.

a soft moan left your lips when you pinched the hard peaks a little harder through your tank top, hips bucking up into nothing.

“shit,” you muttered, sitting up, almost ripping your top over your head, breasts finally hanging free.

your sweatpants and panties followed, throwing them to the floor as you lay down on your bed again, back against the mattress.

your hands were back on your boobs, kneading them gently.

soon, one hand dropped down, brushing over your knee and up the inside of your thighs, sending shivers down your spine.

you felt yourself getting wetter and wetter, maybe even dripping on the sheets by now.

and all you could see was his face.

the smile on his lips when he talked about something he liked. the scrunch of his nose when laughed at a joke of yours. or the look in his eyes whenever you walked into a room.

it was love.

you couldn’t find another word for it. it had always been love. but you were both too scared to admit it.

you took a shaky breath when your fingers brushed through your folds, bringing up the slick to your clit, circling it slowly.

your back arched slightly, eyes pressed shut as you played with your pussy, the wet sound of it filling the quiet of the room.

without even thinking what you were doing, you slipped two fingers inside, gasping for breath, your walls clenching around them immediately.

hell, you were so desperate it wasn’t even funny anymore.

for a moment, you stayed exactly like that, savoring the moment before you started to move them.

slow. torturously.

it almost hurt in your head.

but it felt so incredibly good.

after a few more strokes, you slipped them out again, touching your clit. your fingers felt warm from being inside of you, and it made your thighs twitch.

your added a little more pressure to it, another softy moan leaving your lips as you got closer to your peak.

that’s when it happened. it slipped past your lips without even meaning to.

“j-joe…”

it was soft, almost not loud enough as it was under your breath.

“holy shit.”

the voice made your blood run cold, and you stopped dead in your tracks.

was that your lust-hazed mind playing tricks on you or did you actually hear joe’s voice?

then, the dull sound of something dropping to the floor.

nope. definitely not a trick of your mind.

your hand flew away from where it was between your legs, and you sat up in bed, only to see him standing by the door.

he still wore his coat and glasses, the dull sound from before probably came from the duffle bag that dropped to the floor next to him.

“oh my god.”

you moved quickly.

in about one second, your body was covered with the blanket, heart racing in your chest so fast, you thought it might jump out of your body.

“what are you doing here? shouldn’t you be back by tomorrow?”

you tried to clear your head, cheeks burning under the way he looked at you.

it was still dark around you, but you felt it seeping under your skin, just like the raw and deep embarrassment.

you best friend just caught you masturbating. with his name on your lips.

“yeah… i should. i mean… i was. but… i thought i’d surprise you since you had such a hard time the past few weeks.”

he paused.

“didn’t know you had that hard time…”

god, this only made it worse.

and while you still drowned in embarrassment, looking like you were about to burst into tears, he slowly started to move.

“hey, look at me…” he murmured, but you just shook your head, pressing your eyes shut.

you couldn’t look at him. not after what he just saw.

maybe tomorrow.

but maybe not even then.

“please. look at me.”

his hand grabbed your chin softly, forcing you to raise your head, eyes fluttering open.

you saw him right in front of you.

he leaned over the bed, one hand bracing himself, the other still holding your chin.

“don’t feel bad for making yourself feel good. never.”

it took a moment until you moved, a slight nod of your head.

then you noticed it.

the way his eyes dropped to your lips.

“although… i thought i heard something that sounded like my name. or was that just my mind playing with me?”

he heard it.

god, he actually heard it.

and for one moment you thought about lying.

but maybe that was it.

maybe, you were always supposed to end up here with him. maybe, you were actually destined for each other.

yes, you were afraid to ruin what was between you. but better that than regret it for the rest of your life.

so you nodded again. slowly. cautiously, not sure how he would react.

but before you could think more about it, he kissed you.

his lips moved against yours like they were meant to fit together since the day that you met.

you were stunned. too stunned to react. even a little shocked from what just happened.

he was just about to pull back after you didn’t return the kiss, but he didn’t come far.

your hand found the back of his neck, pulling him back to you, lips touching again.

this time it was desperate and needy, like you both put all that pushed down feelings inside that one kiss.

the next time he pulled away, you breathed heavily—just like him—and pressed your foreheads together.

“why didn’t you say something?”

he was the first to break the silence, and you took a deep breath.

“i was afraid. to ruin our friendship,” you admitted honestly, biting on your bottom lip, like you always did when you were nervous.

something that almost sounded like a chuckle left joe’s lips, and he raised his hand, brushing his thumb over your lip, freeing it from where it was between your teeth.

“that lip biting always drove me crazy,” he murmured, tilting his head to the side.

“every time you did that, i just wanted to pull it out, and bite on it myself.”

your breath hitched in your throat, and you leaned your head a little into his touch.

“why don’t you do it now?” you whispered, looking up into his eyes.

a growl rumbled in his chest right before he kissed you again.

this time it was messy and sloppy, tongues pushing against each other’s until he did as he said, his perfect white teeth sinking into your bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth.

you let out a gasp, your body coming alive again under the blanket.

“joe…” you sighed, this time louder, and he groaned.

“say that again.”

his lips left yours, fingers closing around the edge of the blanket you still held against your chest.

“say my name like this again. please…”

you looked into his eyes, seeing the despair and admiration in them, and smiled slightly.

“joe…” you murmured as you sat up, your hands falling away from the blanket that slipped down your body, reaching for the glasses that still sat on the bridge of his nose.

you took them off, placing them on the nightstand next to your phone while he reached out for your bare breasts, cupping them in his rough hands.

“you’re so beautiful, you know that?” he whispered, grazing his thumbs over your nipples, causing your to shiver heavily.

“oh god…” you gasped, your head falling back into your neck.

he took the offer, lips finding your pulse point, sucking softly while he flicked his thumbs over your hardened peaks.

“joe,” you said again, softly pushing him away. “you wear too much clothes. can i… help you to take them off?”

you didn’t even know why you asked him, suddenly feeling really shy even if there was no reason to be.

this was joe after all. your best friend. the only person you trusted more than anyone else.

he laughed softly, already slipping out of his coat, then pulled his sweater over his head.

he was left in his pants and boxers, but you were too distracted from the dark hair that grew on his chest and trailed down his stomach.

“like what you see?” he asked softly, taking your hand, guiding it to his chest.

you nodded, biting your lip again when you felt the soft curls underneath your palm.

“stop doing that.”

you knew what he meant.

but you couldn’t.

you only grinned but that drove him even more insane.

suddenly, you found yourself underneath him on the mattress, his body hovering over yours.

“no foreplay, baby. you already did such a good job with that. and i’m hard as a rock.”

the words leaving his lips felt like small jolts of electricity, leaving your body on the edge.

you never heard him talking like that. but god, did you love it.

“i just wanna feel you,” you heard yourself say through your clouded mind, feeling him smile against your jaw where his lips brushed over your skin.

seconds later, you felt him pressing against your thigh—hot and hard—ready for what was about to come.

“condom…” you whispered against his lips but he shook his head. “i know we’re both clean. and i know you’re on the pill. just wanna feel you,” he echoed your words from before, dragging the head of his dick through your wetness.

“you’re so wet,” he grunted as he tried to hold back from pushing inside with one single thrust.

“joe… please…”

the words came out in a whimper, and when he finally slipped into you, you let out a soft cry.

he moved carefully, stretching your walls slowly, letting you adjust to his size until he was fully seated inside of your heat.

his hands held your head, brushing some hair out of your forehead as you breathed each other’s air heavily.

“can you… can you move, please?” you pleaded, and he didn’t even hesitate.

he started to roll his hips against yours, making you both moan out at the feeling.

another slow thrust.

then, he started to move faster.

somewhere, you decided to take the turn, rolling you over in one swift motion, straddling his waist, his length still buried inside of you.

he looked up at you through lust-filled eyes, his hands holding your hips as you picked up the same pace as before.

the faster you moved, the louder got the sounds coming over your lips.

his hands trailed up to cup your breasts again while you leaned back a bit, changing the angle.

“fuck, baby,” he groaned, pounding up into by now, hitting that sweet spot over and over again.

you were completely gone, lost in the moment and the feeling of him, not even caring how loud you were.

and when his fingers found your clit, it only took a few firm rubs.

“oh g-god… j-joe,” you whimpered as you felt the coil in your stomach tightening.

“i can feel you’re close, baby. let go, cum for me. cum on my cock.”

those words were enough.

a breathless scream tore from your lips, as your walls clamped down on him, milking his cock as it twitched and pulsed, his own orgasm hitting him the same time as yours, coating your walls with his seed.

by the time your heart stopped pounding, you sank down onto his chest, both of your bodies coated in sweat.

“that was about damn time,” he said after a while, making you giggle quietly, and kissed the top of your hair.

“yeah… i think so too,” you replied, looking up at him. “missed you a lot by the way. i’m glad you came back earlier.”

he looked at you for a while, fingers running through your hair as he answered. “yeah, me too.”

“i’m glad we decided to ruin the friendship. seems it was the only way to get into a relationship.”

you frowned.

“does that mean… you’re my boyfriend now?”

joe laughed, shaking his head slightly. “it means, you are my girlfriend.”

he pressed a soft kiss to your lips, breathing you in.

“now come one, let’s get cleaned up.”

he followed you to the bathroom, wrapping his arms around you from behind, pressing a kiss to your shoulder while you took care of the mess you made.

and when you lay in your bed a few minutes later, joe already drifting asleep next to you, you couldn’t help but take your phone and send a quick message to kate.

of course she was still awake, probably got lost in drawing another painting.

her response came almost immediately.

katie k: finally.

2026 whispersoflost

"You okay?" You murmur, divot between your brow furrowing as he shifts uncomfortably against you.

"Hm?" He looks out of it as he blinks, then turns back to face you. "Oh, yeah. Yeah, totally. So, um, what did you want to get—"

A voice interrupts you. "Steve," one of the girls calls, and you and Steve look up at the same time. "You never called me back," she says, and upon further notice, it's Heather. She stops by your table, bending just a little to expose her cleavage even more.

Your boyfriend, to his credit, doesn't even flinch or let his eyes wander, though he does look confused. "I never called you."

She scoffs, indignant. "Yeah, but you thought about it." You can't help rolling your eyes, letting out a snort of laughter, which makes Heather turn to you. "Got something to say?" she asks, syrupy sweet, as if mocking you.

You shrug. "I don't know. It seems like you do, though," you nod at her, "so go on. Keep talking to my boyfriend like that."

Heather narrows her eyes at you, moving to look at Steve, who's trying very hard not to smile at your blatant display of... possessiveness. "You're dating her?"

He grins, tucking you more firmly against his side. "Yeah, I'm taken."

She blinks at him through lowered lashes, leaning over the table to lift a hand, trailing down his chest, manicured nails scratching at the fabric of his shirt. "Sure I can't get you to reconsider?"

You stand up abruptly, prying her hand off Steve's chest and pushing her backwards. "Get your hands off my boyfriend."

Heather rears back, then tilts her head at you, assessing. The stupid shit-eating grin on her face gets on your nerves. "Or what?"

You take a step closer to her. "Or I'll hit you so hard your teeth'll fall out."

Her grin goes wider. "I dare you, bitch."

And she's practically asking for it, isn't she? You punch her straight in the nose, and she stumbles back, pressing a hand to where she's bleeding. "Oh my God!" She screams, turning to where her friends are sitting. "This bitch just totally broke my nose!"

"I'll do it again if you don't shut your mouth," you sneer, lip curling in pure disgust, shoving her shoulder to get her away from you. "Stay away from me and my boyfriend."

Her friends usher her out, all too concerned for Hawkins High's bitchiest head cheerleader, and you turn to look back at Steve, who's mouth is slack, jaw open. "You okay, honey?" you murmur, sitting back in the booth next to him, brow furrowed in concern.

"Baby..." he trails off, looking speechless. "Are you... you just punched a girl for touching me."

You shrug, ducking your head to check Heather's extremely long nails didn't scratch his skin. When satisfied, you look back up at him. "Yeah."

Steve blinks at you like you're an alien from a strange planet he's never heard of. "That was so hot."

A grin tugs at your lips despite yourself. "I'm glad you think so, but it wasn't meant to be. No one gets to touch you, 'cos you're mine." You say it like it's a fact of the universe.

"Yeah," he swallows, mouth dry. "I'm yours."

Your boyfriend seems to have to take a moment to just stare at you before he blinks out of his stupor, eyes flickering to your hand in your lap. "Lemme see," he murmurs, tone so gentle, as he cradles your hand in his.

The knuckles are split, already bruising, and he lets out a sympathetic coo. "Sweetheart," he coos softly, brushing at the injured skin. "C'mon, let's get home and get this cleaned."

You let him lead you to his Beamer, open the passenger door for you and help you in, and hold your injured hand in his lap the whole drive home.

Steve grumbled. "Five more minutes." His arm snuck out to you, wrapping around your waist and bringing you back into the warmth of his chest and your covers.

"No, Steve-" you tried to protest before he started to convince you. A move of his bare hips against yours, his teeth nipping at your neck, hands roaming your chest. "Steve, mom's making breakfast."

He hummed as if he was listening but he pulled you further into him, holding you tight. "Five more minutes."

"I'm serious," you laughed.

"So am I."

You rolled your eyes and turned in his grasp to look at him. Through the sleep in his eyes and the mess of his hair, Steve pushed himself to lean up on his elbow, your covers slipping down his bare torso as he looked down at you. "Your hair," you chuckled, ruffling the mess of it.

He hummed, kissing you sweetly. "Hmm, and who's faults that?"

"Yours."

You remembered last night, Steve picking you up from school to go catch a film, bringing you back late in fits of laughter and roaming hands. You'd taken him to your room, turned on the music and spent all night in complete love with him.

When under the disguise of night you could have Steve to yourself. Without anyone bothering you, moms smothering you or brothers to question motives.

After all, it was no secret Jonathon Byers disliked Steve Harrington.

Steve had spent most of the night down on the bed, your head nestled between his thighs or on top, riding him slow and steady, taking all the time in the world until you were both a withering mess.

You shook your head against his lips. "Yours."

Steve broke away, looking down at you. For a moment, it looked like he was going to argue but his eyes softened. "You're so beautiful."

If Jonathon could see how Steve looked at you he'd never have any reason to doubt the kind of relationship the two of you had.

Steve flattened himself against you until you could feel the half-hardness of his stock stirring against your hot core. He moved atop you, caging you into the bed with no way of escape. Your hands crawled up his shoulders, pulling him in.

His hand slithered under you to your backside, squeezing the skin until you gasped and he could swipe his tongue into the warmth of your mouth. "I- I need you," he panted.

"But breakfast-"

"Screw breakfast, I need you." Steve kissed you like you were the only thing he'd be eating-

The door creaked open.

"Dude, what?!" you pushed Steve off you quickly, the both of you scrambling to cover yourself up.

Your little brother stood in the door way, taking up most of the space with his height the closer he got to seventeen. A hand covered over his eyes. "Mom's been calling you for food for five minutes."

"Jesus, Will, do you knock?" you complained. "You can open your eyes by the way."

He did so but kept his eyes up to your eyes. "Breakfast is getting cold," he said, quickly leaving.

"Door!" you called.

But it wasn't Will that tracked by to close your door, Jonathon was making his way by and paused in front of your door. He offered you a small morning smile, peeking into the mess that usually was his room. The curl of his lips dropped when he noticed the Steve shaped lump in your bed.

Steve stretched out. "Morning, Byers."

Your older brothers eyes were less than warm when they looked back at you and closed the door gently.

"Great."

Steve pushed the covers off him, walking around to gather his clothes thrown about the place and dress. "Breakfast will be fun."

You both dressed quick, throwing boxers and panties to each other, pulling down shirts while you pulled Steve's hoodie over you before walking out.

Ah- a full house. There was a space between your brothers for you and Steve to slip into, across from Hopper and El who were already making their way through their Ego's.

It wasn't new, having Hopper and El around and it wasn't like they didn't know about your boyfriend, Steve 'the hair' Harrington. But there was still silence as you sat down.

"Morning everyone," you greeted with a smile.

Hopper looked from you to Steve like he was playing disapproving dad. "Morning."

"Juice, honey?" offered Joyce, ready to get the carton from the fridge.

Steve stopped her, jumping up at once. "I've got it."

Joyce settled down. "Oh, thank you, Steve."

"It's no problem."

Steve was always on his best behaviour with your mom, doing everything to get her acceptance when he already had it. He'd proven he was great with Will and his friends and had proven more than once that he was willing to lie down his life for you and your brother(s). She didn't like that him and Jonathon had got into a fight years ago, but she liked that it was Steve that came out in cuts and bruises.

He set the juice down, pouring you a glass and topping up El's before filling his own.

There was silence again.

"Did you sleep well?" your mom asked.

"Oh yeah, great nights sleep," said Steve as he set his arm on the back of your chair.

Will chuckled to himself, on account of his room being un-fortunately next to yours, Jonathon's along the way.

Jonathon and you passed a look to Will who quietened down.

Steve chuckled away his blush but his hand moved from the back of your chair to under the table, gripping your thigh tight. Whether he was nervous or still getting hard under his jeans, you couldn't quite tell.

Jonathan tried to get the conversation back onto track. "I can give you guys a lift to school on my way into work."

"Don't sweat it, man, I've got it," shrugged Steve, taking a bite of the eggs Joyce made him. "Hm, oh, great eggs Mrs Byers."

"Oh, thank you Steve. And I've said, you can call me Joyce," she smiled.

"Yeah, she's said it a hundred times, Steve, call her Joyce," Jonathon all but snapped.

You looked at him, kicking him in the shin.

He kicked right back at you.

"Hey, what's going on?" snapped your mom.

You and Jonathon looked at her. "Nothing." you both dove back into your food, just like you were children again, getting caught arguing over tapes of The Clash.

Steve straightened, his fingers digging into your jeans. "I was just saying, Jonathon, I don't have work for another hour. Plenty of time to drop them off."

"But it's not on your way, it's on mine," said your brother.

"Yeah but your shift starts before mine, I have plenty of time to drop them off."

"I can drop off my own sister."

"I'm just offering to drop off my girlfriend, it's no big deal," said Steve, smiling over at you.

You knew Steve meant well, and Jonathon probably did to. He just was better at showing how badly he wanted to get back at Steve rather than take you to school with Will and El. "Jonathon, Steve's right, he's not working till eleven. Your shift starts in half an hour."

Jonathon took a deep breath but relented. "Fine, go with Steve. I'll take Will and El."

"Or we could all just go with Steve?" Said Will, as it made more sense but there wasn't much that needed to make sense to Jonathon at that point.

"No, you'll come in my car," said Jonathon. "Let's go."

He was already up and out of his chair, ditching his plate in the sink on the way out.

Joyce sighed. "Jonathon!"

Silence invaded the table again but your appetite left the room with your brother. Steve's hand soothed you, his thumb stroking up and down with care.

"You have bruises," said El, speaking up. She gestured to your neck where blue and purple marks were blooming. "There."

Steve chocked o his eggs.

Sometimes you wished El wouldn't talk as much as she did.

"Well I think I wanna go school now, Steve?" you pushed out of your chair, getting your boyfriend to follow you quickly before Joyce or Hopper could look to closely.

Will was too busy smirking down at his plate in amusement.

"Er- ow, um, thank you for the breakfast Mrs Byer- Joyce- Joyce! It was very nice, thank you!" Steve stuttered as you grabbed both of your bags and rushed out from the house.

────────────────────

It was funny, looking back at it in the car with Steve. Your makeup bag was perched in your lap as you did your best to cover up the marks that Steve had left on you. They ran down your neck all the way to your chest. You were just thankful you didn't have gym.

"My god, I'm never gonna be able to show my face again," said Steve, holding his head in his hand.

"It's your fault!" you argued.

"Mine!?"

"Yes! If you weren't so needy you might not have gone so crazy, painting me like you're god damn Bob Ross!"

Steve scoffed. "What? Like you weren't enjoying it."

"Well I'm paying for it now," you said, patting down more powder on the marks. "God, I hope Jonathan didn't see, he'll kill you."

"Please-"

"Do I have to remind you when he beat your ass-"

"That was years ago and that was different you know it," said Steve, turning down a bend. "If we were to ... you know... get down to it now I would-" he glanced your way and caught the narrowing of your brows and the glare- "not hurt him because he's your brother."

You nodded, soothing your gaze. "Thank you."

"But do I not get some slack?" asked Steve, rubbing the stress away from his forehead. "Yes I was a dick back then but I think I'm better now."

You had to admit it, you'd never have considered dating the guy that beat up your brother and smashed his camera. You were dating that Steve that realised his wrongs and ditched all his ways, the Steve that always got your mom and Will Christmas presents, and always got Jonathon more camera equipment around that time of year. You dated the Steve that learnt to do your hair because your arms ached when you did it, the one that held you every night because you were terrified you'd wake with Will missing again or monsters crawling through your walls.

You were dating the Steve you loved.

You smiled. "A lot better."

Steve glanced your way and took your hand, kissing the back of it before dropping it in his lap.

The drive the rest of the way was silent but content.

Steve pulled up front of the school, students already piling in. He cut the engine and tugged your hand till you looked his way. "Hey, why don't you come round mine tonight? My parents are gone till Monday, it'll just be us."

"Just us?" you asked, teasing him with the raise of your brows.

"Yeah. You know, we can... study," he lifted his shoulders.

"Study?"

Steve glanced down to your lips. "Yeah study. Whole place to ourselves," he leant in, the hot breath of his mouth ghosting over your ear as he whispered. "Study in the living room... the kitchen... the pool."

"The pool?" you teased as his teeth nipped at your skin. "Won't I get wet?"

"Hm, that's what I'm hoping for."

You moved your head back, smashing your lips to his so hard that you could feel the indent of his teeth. But neither of you cared as Steve released your seatbelt along with his, the both of you scrambling over the console to get a hold of each other. His hands were firm around your neck, yours tangling in his hair at once and tugging till he whined.

"Baby," he mumbled against your lips. "Baby we gotta stop or-"

You kissed him, never relenting. "Or what?" You whispered, voice dropped low.

Steve smirked against you. "Or you’re not getting to class on time."

"Bummer."

Steve surged for you, drawing you close, so close you were seconds away from climbing over the console when there was a honk from a car parking right up next to you.

"What the-"

"Geez-"

You both turned, looking out your window and finding Jonathon, red in the cheeks, fumbling with his seatbelt.

Steve deflated in his seat, shaking his head. "Oh, come on."

You winded the window down as Jonathon got out the car, almost throwing his car door into Steve’s. It would’ve been a big thing. There was only one thing Steve loved more than you. His car. "Jonathon, what?"

El and Will got out, sneaking their way into school, glancing over their shoulder in case they missed anything that was about to happen.

"Nothing," he said. "Just making sure you get to class."

"I’ve got it, Byers," said Steve.

"Really? Cause that’s not what it looked like to me."

"Jesus, what I can’t kiss my girlfriend bye before school?"

Jonathon spluttered. "Not the way you were doing it, no!"

"Alright-" you got out of Steve's car with no announcement. You stood across from your older brother, folding your arms over your chest. "This has got to stop, Jonathon."

"He's-"

"He's with me," you said. "I get it, okay, I do, you don't like Steve for past grievances and cause he dated your girlfriend. You think I like that, I don't-"

Steve stepped out the car, loitering with his door open.

"But that's the past and I love him," you said.

Jonathon gulped, the muscles in his jaw moving as he clenched. His eyes looked past you to Steve. There was almost something sheepishly sorry in his gaze then.

"I love him so much," you tell him, knowing Steve was behind, listening, perhaps feeling guilty with how you had to defend your love because of the douche-bag he was before. You took your brothers hand. "And I love you so much. I respect that you don't always like Steve but for my sake please can you at least act happy for me."

"I am happy for you, I just... I..." he trailed off because there was nothing else he could say to defend himself and his feelings. "I don't want you to get your heartbroken. I couldn't bare it."

Your brothers heart was big, bigger than most would understand. The both of you had looked after each other, especially with your mom's keen eyes always on Will, it was important Jonathon looked after you and you him.

It was just now, you also had Steve to look out for you.

Jonathon wasn't used to that.

You squeezed your big brothers hand once more before letting it go. "I've got to go to class now, okay? I'll see you at home tonight, we can watch a film or something?"

Jonathon took a deep breath and nodded, backing to his car. "Alright. Sure. Just... get to class, and stop making out in the parking lot. Kids go here."

Steve walked around his car, glum in expression with your bag in hand. He mocked a salute. "Will do, Byers."

Jonathon reversed out the space slow, giving Steve one more careful glance. He drove off and Steve fell back against his car.

"You're not coming around tonight?" he pouted.

You rolled your eyes and leant next to him. "I wouldn't miss alone time with you for the world."

Steve's brows furrowed. "But you said you were catching a movie."

"Watching a movie doesn't take all night, Steve," you said, reaching over to sooth the crease between his brows. "Pick me up at nine?"

Realisation dawned on him and slowly, he broke out into a grin. "I love you."

"I know," you said. You figured spending time with your brother would ease tensions. No Steve, just you and the family. That way, you could spend a weekend un-interrupted with him.

Steve slung your bag over your shoulder, kissing you sweetly before he left you to the rest of the day.

And for the rest of the day he was left dreaming about all the things he'd do to you when he had you alone.

────────────────────

Jonathon had picked a horror film, which was no surprise to you.

Even if you jumped at every pounce of the music and flinched every time there was a jump scare, Jonathon loved these films. He loved to see you scared and then laugh, breaking down what was actually happening, the melted bubble-gum or smoke machine they used for the effects. It seemed he knew every camera trick.

Will and El sat on the floor, a bowl of popcorn and plate of Ego's shared between them.

The movie ended by eight, when the sun was setting and you were left with jitters in your skin.

But your torture had the desired effect as Jonathon was laughing, smiling, forgetting you were dating the 'worst guy on earth' in his opinion. You went to bed, exhausted from school and Jonathon was happy to let you go.

By nine, Steve was dragging you through the door of his house, pushing you up against it and slamming it shut in the progress. His lips were quick on yours, prying them apart until your teeth nipped at his bottom lip, drawing it out in a moan.

"Oh, baby, I've missed you," he groaned, hands cupping your neck as he slid his tongue in your mouth, fighting to own it.

Your lips curled into a grin as you tilted your head back. "You saw me this morning."

Steve pulled away and smiled at you, peeling off his jacket. "Tell me about it."

Your hands were clumsy as they pushed Steve's jacket from his shoulders, wrapping you arms around him to draw him in.

Steve kissed your neck, hands in your hips as he dragged you away from the door and through his house. Neither of you were letting up, stumbling your way in as Steve kept one hand on you, the other searching around the wall for a light switch. "I can't-"

"What?" you mumbled, hands, fiddling with his belt.

"The light."

Steve looked aside to find the light switch, turning them on but you'd already dragged your lips down his neck, biting playfully at his flesh. His large hand held the back of your head, keeping you there a moment longer until your hand ran over the clothed harness of his cock. He fisted your hair and pulled enough to get your lips again.

His hands pulled at your top, yanking it over your head and throwing it aside. You both found your way up against another wall, gasping at the cold press of it.

Your dragged your hands under Steve's shirt, feeling the hardness of his back and the hairs on his chest.

Steve's tongue ran over yours, making a mess of your mouth while his fingers pulled at your jean buttons, getting them lose enough to slide his hand in and feel how wet you were. "Oh baby," he cooed.

Your mouth was stuck agape as he wasted no time, sliding two fingers into you. Your breath came out shaky, taken by Steve who was so close his nose nudged yours. His fingers pumped close, coaxing out your want.

"St-Steve."

"Tell me you love me," he said, his fingers steady, his thumb ghosting your clit. There, without putting any pressure there.

"I-I love you."

He kissed you quick as you moved your pussy into his hand, grinding, stealing his breath as much as he was yours. "I love you," his words were lost in lips and tongue.

His thumb pressed into your clit, circling it.

You humped his hand quick, aching for the feel of it all. Everything he could give you.

You panted, the feeling of your orgasm dawning too soon. "Steve!"

He withdrew his hand and lost no time. He dropped to his knees with a thud, pulling your jeans and panties down in one immediately and shoving his face between your thighs.

"Ah-"

Steve grabbed your hand that sort for anything to hold onto and pushed it into his hair. He did it all without a break in his devotion to making you come with his tongue and lips. He moaned into you, his tongue diving between your folds, sucking.

"Jesus, Steve." You bit down on the back of your hand.

Steve flicked your clit once, pulling away and pressing a kiss to your thigh. "We're alone," he reminded you, kissing over your folds. His ran his thumb between it. "We're alone, you can moan."

You dropped your hand, eyes squeezing shut as you leant your head back. You'd always been so quiet, Steve sneaking into your room or the supply room at family video. The idea of making as much noise you liked was too good a dream.

Steve grabbed your calf, helping it out the last of your jeans and throwing it over his shoulder. He sucked, slurped, anything he could and the noises around the entry to his home were damn right pornographic. He moaned into you, feeling the vibrations.

He held your thigh, fingers digging in until the skin around your leg was bleaching white. Steve whined into you. "Please moan."

What Steve Harrington wanted, Steve got...

You moaned, lips pursed but when he sucked on your clit, diving his fingers into you and curling you were left breathless against the wall of his family home. "Bab-baby-"

He nodded. "That's it baby, come on, come on my face please," he practically whined. "Please, I love you so much, please-"

Your hands combed back his hair as you un-knowingly pushed his head into your pussy as you came down. If it wasn't for the grip he had on your thighs you'd have slumped right there.

Steve took his time, slower in cleaning up the mess you made, letting you catch your breath. When your chest stopped heaving he slowly took away his fingers and knelt back.

If your brother knew it wasn't just love Steve had for you, it was damn right devotion, he'd never have questioned his intents.

Steve pulled off his shirt as he got to his feet, pulling off his belt and shoving down his trousers.

You, on the other hand, went down to the floor, shaking off the last of your clothes and un-clasping your bra, throwing it over to the front door.

You crawled the last of the way to Steve, sinful.

"Baby, no, no," said Steve panicked as you set back on your heels, right in front of his hard cock. "I want to- be inside you."

It wasn't that Steve didn't like head, he loved it. Your tongue, him hot and heavy but he preferred it when it was on a bed or on his carpeted floor, not the hard wood down stairs.

You didn't object. You didn't try to unleash him. You just laid your head against his cock, rubbing it like it was pillow. Your greatest comfort.

Steve's mouth was agape but he didn't know what to say. He combed his hair back, head throwing back in the air. "God- fu-fuck baby. You're so good, so, so good. My favourite girl... only girl," he mused as you rubbed your face against him, licking up and around without even taking him out. There was a bead of pre-cum leaking at his head and you collected it through his boxers.

As your fingers dipper past the elastic Steve grabbed your arms and forced you up. He kissed along the bruises he left the night before, holding you steady as your body curved into his.

"Where do we begin?" you asked, breathless as your eyes closed in bliss. You felt him grin against your neck.

He guided you by the hips, leading you to the living room and guiding you onto the edge of the sofa. He sat you on the edge and kissed you again, slower, feeling the edges of your mouth and sharing each others taste between them.

You helped him out of his boxers.

The both of you were bare, bathed in only the light from the hallway.

Steve looked all around you, hair falling in front of his eyes. "Tell me you love me."

You never got tired of saying it, he always needed to ask. "I love you. You're so good to me."

"Always gonna be good for you," he said. He wrapped his hand around his cock, edging it close to your pussy. He ran it up and down, using your orgasm to lubricate him up. The both of you shuddered at the ghost of the feeling that could be. "Want to be a better man for you. Gonna make you so proud."

"I am, Steve. I am. Please just," you arched your back, close to falling off.

"Please what?" he asked, smiling down at you.

Your eyelids were hooded, eyes dark as you looked up at him. Your hands ran down the smooth of his back, taking his ass and helping him inside of you.

It was always a stretch with him. The delicious burn before the pleasure took over. It was always slow then it wasn't but it was always, always, love.

Steve eased into you and eased out before the thrusts began. Before he held a hand on the small of your back and another under thigh to rock into you, hips snapping into yours as you stretched around him.

He said be as loud as you could but the both of you were gasping in pleasure, maybe moaning here and there before your lips met and it began again.

Steve rested his forehead against yours, rocking into you. He had your ass in the palm of his hands (literally), urging you up and down his length.

"St-Steve-" you held onto his shoulders.

His face was screwed up in concentration, to at least try and last a little longer. He'd been waiting... well, since this morning to have you. "I know, I'm gonna," fuck, with your warmth enveloping him, he didn't stand a chance. "I'm gonna-"

Boom! Boom! Boom!

There was a sudden quick pounding on his front door that rattled the house and both of you.

Steve stilled.

The pleasure wasn't lost in its entirety, after all you were still wrapped around him but the moment was lost.

"What the hell?" you mumbled.

"It's probably nothing," he said but settled you down on the edge.

The both of you had been through enough to know that the good things came fleeting and never lasted. A pounding like that at the door was never a good thing.

Steve could feel your anxiety. Had someone gone missing? Were the monsters from your nightmares since you were sixteen back? He eased out of you. "Hey, hey, it's probably nothing."

The pounding was still there though.

You set yourself down quick on your feet, stumbling only slightly as you grabbed the first shirt you got.

It took Steve a moment longer to collect himself. "Wait- baby, hold on-" he grabbed his boxers, throwing them on and tumbling after you.

But you were already at the door and swinging it open in only Steve's shirt.

Steve was behind you a second later and-

Jonathon.

The three of you were all left in silence. You, half dressed in Steve's shirt that was luckily like a dress to you. But Steve on the other hand was sweaty and hard in only his boxers.

"Sh-shit." Quickly he stepped behind you, using your body as a shield. "What the hell are you doing here Byers?"

It took a second for him to explode.

"You were missing and I find you here!"

There was a call of static.

Walkie Talkie.

"Jonathon do you have eyes on your sister?" Dustin's voice called through.

Your brows shot up. "You called a search party?"

"We didn't know where you were!"

"Take a guess!" you snapped. "Maybe try calling before getting half of Hawkins on the case!"

"I did call!" he yelled. "Five times!"

You and Steve were silent, stuttering.

"We were, um..." Steve brushed back his hair. "Busy."

Jonathon swung back, stressed, a hand to his head like their mom when she was lost in the moment. "Why didn't you just say you were going?"

"Well you haven't exactly been keen for me to be with Steve!"

"No, I haven't and I'm still not!" he argued. But there was only so much of an argument he could have with you when you both stood there hardly dressed. His chest rose and fell with his breaths. "But I'd rather know you're safe then..."

Guilt ate at passion inside of you. Rather then thinking you were missing.

You gripped the door to keep yourself steady. You always wanted to know your brothers plans- both, so you could pin point where they'd be and when so nothing would ever happen to either of them ever again.

You hadn't even considered it when you took Steve's hand and snuck out your window. "I'm sorry, I should've told you."

Jonathon didn't look anywhere else but your eyes. Slowly, he nodded. "Me too," he said. "Sorry you felt like... you couldn't tell me."

The three of you stood there, something like bonding happening while Steve was still in boxers you'd been licking at moments ago. And the thought had him stirring in them again.

The walkie crackled again. "Jonathon! Do you copy?"

"My god, will you shut that up!" said Steve. "The last thing I want to hear right now is Henderson's voice."

Jonathon did so, simply saying he found you safe, with Steve. It was a mercy he didn't mention the lack of clothing. He backed away from the door, stuck in his un-sure ways of leaving you or taking you back. "Just... just get it over with and come home in the morning."

Steve grabbed the door above your head. "Yep, can do, thank you, Byers!" he called, waving.

Jonathon paused but not with anger. There was a blush at his cheeks and he reached into his jacket, his wallet coming out next. He threw something back at you.

You caught it before you realised what it was. "Oh, Jonathon!"

A condom. Seriously?!

"Just- if you're gonna do it, be safe."

The three of you parted ways, you and Steve safe inside and making sure he was in the car and driving away before you gave up.

Steve plucked the protection from you. "Ha, who knew he had it in him."

"Steve," you complained, throwing the door shut.

"Did he think I don't have enough?"

The talk about the condom your brother gave your boyfriend was almost enough to put you out the mood. Almost...

Steve drew you back into him, still hard. He tugged the collar of his shirt down to kiss along the base of your neck. "Where were we?"

the street you grew up on in boston was the kind where everyone knew everyone. the houses were close enough that in the summer you could hear people’s music through open windows and smell whatever someone’s mom was cooking three houses down. your house and joe’s were directly across from each other. two old colonials with creaky steps and big backyards that never quite grew grass evenly.

your parents met the week his family moved in.

your mom brought over a pie because that’s what people do, and his mom invited her inside, and within ten minutes there were kids running everywhere. joe had four sisters trailing behind him like a pack of birds, and you had your older brother who already looked annoyed that he’d been dragged into a social situation.

the parents had already decided how it would go. you’d hang out with the girls. joe would probably get along with your brother.

they were wrong almost immediately.

you and joe ended up standing next to each other in the driveway while everyone else talked. he was holding a hockey stick that was almost as tall as he was, tapping it nervously against the pavement.

“you wanna see my backyard?” he asked.

you shrugged. “sure.”

that was basically it.

after that you were attached in a way that made the adults laugh and shake their heads. every day after school one of you would cross the street without knocking. sometimes he’d show up at your back door, sometimes you’d wander into his kitchen like you lived there. it never mattered.

the two of you turned your backyards into entire worlds.

one week they were jungles, full of imaginary animals and secret missions. the next week they were deserts where you were explorers mapping out land no one had seen before. you dragged old chairs and planks of wood and blankets into piles that became forts or pirate ships or whatever the adventure needed that day.

you took it very seriously.

“captains don’t quit” joe would say, standing on top of a wobbly lawn chair like he was addressing a crew.

“you’re not the captain,” you’d argue. “i found the island first.”

he’d think about it for a second, then nod. “fine. co-captains.”

most nights ended the same way.

one of you would ask your parents if you could have a sleepover, and the parents would pretend to consider it even though they both knew the answer was yes. half the time someone ended up falling asleep on the couch anyway.

your brother mostly stayed out of it, and joe’s sisters eventually stopped trying to pull him into whatever they were doing because he was always already busy.

busy meant with you.

when you got older the adventures got smaller but they never really stopped.

by middle school the two of you had discovered 'the creek' which wasn’t actually a creek at all. it was a small pond on the edge of town with a crooked wooden dock that had been there longer than anyone could remember.

it became your place without either of you really deciding that.

almost every night, especially in the summer, you’d walk down there together. the path cut through a patch of trees and opened up to the water, quiet except for frogs and the occasional splash of something moving under the surface.

sometimes you talked the whole time.

sometimes you didn’t.

you’d sit on the edge of the dock with your feet in the water, kicking slowly and watching the ripples spread out.

one night when you were fourteen the air was warm and heavy and the sky still had a little pink left in it from the sunset. you and joe had been there long enough that the wood of the dock had cooled under your hands.

he leaned back on his elbows, staring up at the sky.

“i think i’m done with hockey” he said out of nowhere.

you turned your head. “really?”

he shrugged, like he’d been thinking about it for a while.

“yeah. it’s just… i don’t know. i don’t like it that much anymore.”

this was recent news. his whole life had been hockey practices and games and early mornings at the rink. but the last few months you and his sisters had dragged him to a couple school plays and drama club meetings, mostly as a joke at first.

joe had turned out to be weirdly good at it.

not just good, confident in a way you didn’t usually see.

“you like the drama stuff more” you said.

he nodded a little. “yeah.”

after a second he added, “don’t make fun of me.”

“i wasn’t going to.”

he looked over at you like he wasn’t completely convinced, but then he smiled anyway.

“i think i wanna try acting,” he said. “like actually try.”

you kicked your feet through the water again.

“you should,” you said. “you’re already dramatic.”

he snorted. “shut up.”

“i’m serious. you’re good at it.”

there was a quiet second where he just looked at the water.

“what about you?” he asked.

you didn’t even have to think about it.

“journalism.”

“like a reporter?”

“yeah.”

“why?”

you shrugged. “i like knowing stuff. and asking questions.”

he nodded like that made perfect sense.

the sky had gotten darker by then, the kind of deep blue that shows up right before the first stars.

after a while joe said, “promise something.”

“what?”

he sat up a little, turning toward you.

“promise we won’t stop being friends when we’re older.”

you rolled your eyes automatically. “why would we?”

“just promise.”

you watched the water for a second, then held your pinky out toward him.

“fine.”

he hooked his pinky around yours without hesitation.

“promise” he said.

and at fourteen, sitting on a crooked dock with your feet in the pond and the whole summer stretching ahead of you, it felt like the easiest promise in the world to keep.

-

high school didn’t change much between you and joe.

if anything, it just made it more obvious.

you were still glued together in the same way you’d always been. walking into school at the same time, leaving at the same time, sitting together whenever you could. people started noticing it more once everyone got older and suddenly everything had to mean something.

by sophomore year people had basically decided for you.

“so how long have you two been dating?” someone asked once, like it was the most normal question in the world.

you and joe looked at each other.

“we’re not” you both said at the same time.

they didn’t believe you.

that happened a lot.

at first you tried explaining it. childhood friends, neighbors, known-each-other-forever type of thing. but people always gave you the same look. the one that said yeah, sure.

eventually you both stopped bothering.

if someone asked, joe would just shrug.

“yeah” he’d say casually.

and you’d roll your eyes but not correct him.

it was easier that way.

high school meant parties now too. the loud, crowded kind where someone’s parents were always conveniently out of town. you’d show up together most of the time, walking through rooms full of people you barely knew, music shaking the walls.

but you never stayed inside for long.

after a while one of you would tilt your head toward the door and the other would already be halfway there.

outside was always quieter.

sometimes you’d end up walking back to your house, crossing the street like you had a thousand times before. a couple years earlier you’d both figured out the perfect way to climb from your bedroom window onto the roof. a loose bit of gutter and a ledge that made it just doable if you knew what you were doing.

it became the new spot.

you’d sit up there with your legs stretched out, looking over the street that had basically raised you both. the neighborhood looked different from up there. smaller, somehow.

sometimes you could hear a party down the block, muffled through the trees.

“we could go back” joe would say occasionally.

you’d glance over at him. “do you want to?”

he’d think for about half a second.

“no.”

so you’d stay.

the creek was still yours too, just not every night anymore. life had gotten busier. homework, practice, rehearsals, everything that comes with being seventeen and thinking every decision matters.

but you still ended up there when things got heavy.

breakups happened. bad ones sometimes.

joe dated a girl junior year who made him miserable by the end of it. you sat next to him on the dock while he complained about the whole thing, throwing little rocks into the water between sentences.

“she said i’m emotionally unavailable” he muttered.

you raised an eyebrow. “you cried during toy story 3.”

“that movie is devastating.”

you laughed, bumping your shoulder into his.

your own relationships didn’t go much smoother. one guy broke up with you over text during winter break and you showed up at joe’s house ten minutes later, still in pajamas, phone clutched in your hand.

he opened the door, took one look at your face, and stepped aside.

“come in.”

that was usually how it worked.

you helped each other through everything. bad relationships, family stuff, school stress, the weird pressure everyone started feeling about the future. the world kept getting bigger and more complicated, but somehow the two of you stayed the same.

he was the kind of person you could sit next to in complete silence without it feeling awkward.

one night senior year you were lying on the roof again, the air cool and the street below quiet except for the occasional car passing through.

joe had his hands folded behind his head, staring up at the sky like he used to on the dock.

“kinda weird we made it this far” he said.

you turned your head toward him. “what do you mean?”

“i don’t know. everyone kept saying high school changes people.”

“did it change you?”

he glanced over at you.

“not the important stuff.”

you smiled a little, looking back up at the stars.

joe nudged your foot lightly with his.

“still co-captains” he said.

and really, you were alway's going to be.

-

by senior year the question everyone kept asking was where you and joe were going to college.

people asked it like it was a joint decision.

for a while, it kind of was.

you spent a lot of afternoons sitting on your bedroom floor or at the kitchen table with laptops open, comparing schools like it was a group project. every time one of you liked a place the other would look it up too.

“this one has a good journalism program” you said once, turning your laptop toward him.

joe squinted at the screen. “yeah but chicago has a better theatre department.”

you both paused.

then you looked at each other.

“chicago?” you said.

he shrugged. “just saying.”

for a while it felt natural to plan it that way. like wherever one of you ended up, the other would just follow. you’d done everything else side by side your whole lives. it didn’t seem that weird.

until one night you were both sitting on your roof again, college websites open, and you both kind of realised it at the same time.

“this is stupid” joe said.

you looked over. “what?”

“we shouldn’t pick schools based on each other.”

you closed your laptop halfway, thinking about it.

he wasn’t wrong.

as much as the idea of ending up in the same place felt easy, it also felt small somehow. like squeezing both of your lives into the same box just because you were used to standing next to each other.

“yeah,” you said after a second. “it is.”

joe nudged your foot with his.

“we’re still gonna be friends.”

“obviously.”

“like… nothing’s changing.”

you nodded.

“nothing’s changing.”

and for the most part, that’s how you treated it.

applications went out. acceptance letters came back. you ended up choosing a school in new york with a journalism program you couldn’t stop talking about. joe the picked one in chicago where the theatre department had a reputation for being intense in the best way.

everyone around you acted like it was some big emotional thing.

you and joe mostly just shrugged.

“planes exist” he said once when someone asked if it would be hard.

“phones to,” you added.

but it hit a little differently the night before you both left.

of course you were at the creek.

the dock creaked under your weight the same way it always had as you sat side by side, your feet dipping into the water. it was late enough that the town was quiet, the air warm but with that hint of fall starting to creep in.

you’d both been talking about random things for a while. dorms, classes, whether or not you’d end up with weird roommates.

then things got quiet.

you glanced over at joe.

his elbows were resting on his knees, hands clasped together as he stared out at the water. the moonlight caught his face just enough that you noticed something off.

it took you a second to realise what it was.

there were tears in his eyes.

you hadn’t seen him cry much since middle school. maybe a handful of times at most.

you didn’t say anything.

instead you just leaned your head gently against his shoulder.

he didn’t move away.

for a while neither of you spoke.

then joe let out a quiet breath.

“i’m gonna miss you” he said.

your chest tightened a little, but you smiled anyway.

“i’m gonna miss you too.”

he rubbed the back of his neck with one hand.

“i’m not gonna promise to call you every day,” he added. “because i’ll probably forget.”

you laughed softly against his shoulder.

“honest.”

“but that doesn’t mean i don’t love you anymore or that i've forgotten about you” he said quickly, like he needed to make that part clear.

you lifted your head just enough to look at him.

“joe,” you said, smiling. “i know.”

the next morning the two of you went to the airport together.

it felt strange walking through the building knowing you were both leaving, but not in the same direction. your parents were there, his family was there, everyone juggling luggage and last minute reminders.

your gate ended up being first.

you stood there with joe while they called for boarding, the line slowly forming behind you.

for a second neither of you moved.

then you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around him.

he hugged you back just as tight.

“text me when you land” he said into your shoulder.

“you too.”

“and let me know if your roommate is weird.”

you pulled back slightly. “same goes for you.”

he nodded.

it was weird.

standing there, letting go of him and turning toward the gate.

but it wasn’t the kind of weird that felt like losing something.

as you walked onto the plane, it mostly just felt like the start of a new adventure.

and you still had your co-captain

-

the first few months of college were chaos.

everything was busier than either of you expected. classes, new people, assignments piling up.

for a while it felt like you were both just trying to stay above water.

the first couple weeks you and joe texted constantly. random updates, pictures of dumb things you saw on campus, complaints about professors. but eventually the schedules got messy and the messages started spreading further apart.

it wasn’t intentional.

life just filled the space.

so you figured it out.

after a few trial-and-error phone calls and missed texts, the two of you realised you both had thursday afternoons free. no classes. no rehearsals for him. no late newsroom meetings for you.

it became a thing.

every thursday night one of you would call the other and you’d prop your phones up somewhere and watch a movie together. sometimes you actually paid attention to the movie. most of the time you just talked over it.

you’d catch each other up on everything that had happened that week.

joe would tell you about acting classes and weird theatre kids and how exhausted he was after rehearsals. you’d talk about your journalism courses and the ridiculous assignments professors thought were reasonable.

“you had to interview a stranger on the subway?” he said once, half laughing.

“three strangers,” you corrected. “one of them thought i was scamming him.”

he grinned through the phone screen. “you probably were.”

it was still weird sometimes.

there were moments where you’d see something and instinctively turn to tell him before remembering he wasn’t actually there. but the distance never felt like it was breaking anything. you both just adjusted.

years passed like that.

college moved fast. semesters blurring together, trips home for thanksgiving and christmas where everything felt oddly the same and completely different at the same time. sometimes your families even planned things together, like the summer vacation where both households rented a place on the cape.

everyone joked that nothing had changed.

in a lot of ways they were right.

by the time you were nearing the end of college, things started shifting in real ways.

joe had done small acting jobs before. little things here and there. minor roles, student projects, stuff that never quite felt like the big break everyone talks about.

you were always proud of him.

but one night during your usual thursday call he sounded different.

excited in a way you hadn’t heard before.

“wait,” you said, sitting up in your dorm bed. “slow down.”

he ran a hand through his hair on the screen, practically bouncing where he sat.

“okay so there’s this show,” he said. “it’s called stranger things.”

“that’s a good name.”

“right? and i just found out i got the role.”

you blinked. “joe.”

“yeah?”

“that’s huge.”

he laughed nervously.

“i’m playing this guy named steve harrington.”

you could practically see the energy coming off him through the phone.

“i start filming soon,” he said. “like… really soon.”

a couple nights before he had to leave, you flew out to see him.

his dorm looked like a tornado had passed through it. clothes half packed, boxes on the floor, random junk scattered everywhere.

“wow” you said from the doorway.

joe glanced around.

“yeah it’s bad.”

you spent most of the day helping him pack things up. folding clothes, stuffing notebooks into bags, trying to make sense of the mess he’d lived in for the past few years.

at one point he sat down on the floor, staring at the half-filled suitcase in front of him.

“i had to quit my waiting job today” he said.

you looked up from where you were taping a box shut.

“and?”

he rubbed the back of his neck.

“it was so awkward.”

you laughed.

“they were like ‘good luck with your acting thing’ in that voice where they clearly don’t think it’s real.”

you tossed a rolled up sock at him.

“well they’re wrong.”

he caught it and tossed it back.

“i know.”

there was a quiet moment after that.

“this is happening,” he said, almost to himself.

“yeah,” you said softly. “it is.”

things were moving for you too.

a few weeks earlier you’d landed an internship at a small media company in new york. it wasn’t glamorous mostly smaller assignments and write-ups about local events or people.

but it was real work. real bylines.

you’d told joe about it during one of your calls and he’d nearly knocked something over in excitement.

“see?” he said now, pointing at you from across the room. “we’re doing it.”

“we are.”

you both just looked at each other for a second, smiling like idiots.

because somehow you actually were.

when filming started, things got busier for joe.

the thursday calls didn’t happen as regularly anymore. sometimes you’d just get a quick text late at night or a short phone call when he had time between shoots.

but you could tell he was trying.

he’d send you random updates about the set, about the other actors, about the weird hours they kept while filming.

and when filming wrapped around christmas, you both ended up back home in boston at the same time.

the first night you went straight back to the creek.

nothing had changed there.

the same dock, the same quiet water.

joe was pacing a little as he talked, words spilling out faster than usual.

“i don’t know,” he said. “i just really hope this turns into something, you know?”

you watched him for a second before smiling.

“joe.”

“yeah?”

“it will.”

he stopped pacing.

“you really think so?”

you nudged his shoulder lightly as you walked past him to sit on the edge of the dock.

“i know so.”

and honestly, you were completely sure of it.

-

stranger things blew up in a way neither of you had really expected.

when the first season came out, it was suddenly everywhere. clips online, interviews popping up on your feed, people talking about it on the subway, in cafés, in your office. the first time you saw joe on a late-night show you actually had to pause the video halfway through because you were smiling so hard it felt ridiculous.

steve harrington.

your joe.

you’d always known he was good, but watching the world figure it out at the same time was something else entirely.

you texted him the night the show dropped.

holy shit, harrington.

he replied a few minutes later.

shut up.

but you could tell he was happy.

for a while things were still normal enough. you’d text sometimes, call occasionally when schedules lined up. he sounded busier, a little more tired, but still like himself.

then a few months later he mentioned he’d started seeing someone.

he said over the phone one night, sounding a little unsure of how to bring it up.

you smiled, even though he couldn’t see it.

“nice,” you said. “do you like her?”

“yeah,” he said quickly. “i do.”

“then i’m happy for you.”

and you meant it.

at first nothing really changed. but a few months into the relationship you started noticing the distance.

texts took longer to come back. calls happened less and less. sometimes you’d send something and get a reply hours later that felt rushed, like he was answering between other things.

you didn’t say anything about it.

partly because you didn’t want to make it weird. partly because you knew his life was moving fast right now. interviews, press stuff, the show exploding overnight.

and you were pretty sure he was getting ready to film season two soon.

it might not even be about you at all.

so you left it alone.

your own life in new york had started taking off too.

the internship turned into real work. real assignments, longer pieces, actual names attached to your articles. you’d started building something for yourself there, slowly, but steadily.

you had a small group of friends now too. people you’d met through work and through other friends, the kind of people who showed up at your apartment with cheap wine and stayed too late talking about everything and nothing.

there was even a guy for a little while.

nothing serious. just a few months of late dinners and wandering around the city at night. it ended easily, without much drama, and you stayed friendly after.

life was good. really good, actually.

just with a small, quiet space in it that used to belong to joe.

sometimes you’d notice it in the weirdest moments. when you saw something funny and instinctively went to text him before remembering you hadn’t talked properly in weeks. or when someone mentioned stranger things and you had to stop yourself from saying i know him.

you wondered sometimes if this was just… how it went.

people grow up. their lives get bigger. friendships that used to take up all the space start fading around the edges.

maybe the friendship that had carried you through your whole childhood had simply reached its natural ending.

even if part of you didn’t really want to believe that.

months passed like that.

you mostly kept up with joe the same way everyone else did. seeing clips of interviews online, the occasional headline, random photos that popped up on social media.

seeing him laugh on a talk show felt strange when you hadn’t heard his voice in weeks.

eventually christmas started creeping closer again.

on the flight home to boston you found yourself staring out the airplane window longer than usual.

you wondered if joe ever missed you.

it was easier for you to see him. he was everywhere online now. but he didn’t have that same window into your life. he couldn’t just open instagram and see your face everywhere.

and even if he could, would he look?

you shook the thought away.

when you got home your mom filled you in on the neighborhood updates over dinner, the usual stories about who moved away or whose kid had gotten engaged.

then she mentioned it casually.

“oh, and joe isn’t coming home for christmas this year.”

you glanced up.

“he’s not?”

“no, he’s staying with his girlfriend.”

you nodded slowly.

“oh. okay.”

and honestly, you were happy for him.

really.

if things were serious enough that he was spending christmas with her instead of flying home, that probably meant he was doing well. building a life somewhere else the same way you were.

that night, while you were sitting on your childhood bed scrolling through your phone, a message popped up.

joe.

merry christmas!

you stared at the screen for a second.

it wasn’t hey, i miss you or how have you been or anything like that.

just simple. just christmas.

but you typed back anyway.

merry christmas.

because maybe this was just what growing up looked like.

even if part of you continued to have that quiet space where your co-captain used to be

-

months turned into more than a year, then longer than that. somewhere along the way the silence between you and joe just settled into something normal.

you stopped expecting texts. stopped checking your phone for his name.

life filled itself in other places.

but every now and then you’d catch yourself thinking about how it used to be.

little things would bring it back. the smell of lake water in the summer, even stupid things like seeing a hockey stick leaning outside someone’s garage.

memories came back easily.

running through your backyards as kids. the roof of your house in high school. thursday night movies during college. the creek, always the creek.

and eventually you realised something that probably should’ve been obvious years ago.

you were in love with him.

not in any dramatic kind of way, it was quieter than that. more like noticing a piece of yourself that had always been there.

looking back at your life and realising how much of it had been built with him standing next to you.

part of you probably still was in love with him.

honestly, he’d been everything to you.

in a lot of ways he still was.

but that didn’t mean you were going to go chasing after him now.

his life had grown into something huge and busy and full of people you didn’t know anymore. and you weren’t about to force your way back into a place where you might not belong.

so you left it where it was.

what surprised you, though, was that you ended up getting closer with his sisters.

you’d always liked them growing up, but as kids you’d mostly been busy with joe. now that you were all adults, the dynamic shifted a little.

kate was the one you talked to the most.

when she texted you one afternoon saying she was moving to new york, you nearly dropped your phone.

seriously? you wrote back.

yeah, she replied. new job. terrified.

you smiled.

don’t worry. i’ll show you around.

and you did.

the first few weeks after she arrived you took her everywhere. small cafés you liked, parks she hadn’t seen yet, the bookstore you practically lived in on weekends. sometimes you’d just wander the city with no real plan, talking about everything from work to family to stupid stories from when you were all younger.

it was really nice. comfortable in a way you hadn’t expected.

one week your brother happened to be in the city too for a work trip. you all met up in central park one afternoon, grabbing coffee from a street cart before sitting on the grass together.

for a moment it felt strangely familiar.

you, your brother, one of joe’s sisters.

just missing the rest of the crew.

“this feels weird” your brother said at one point, glancing around.

kate laughed. “because not everyones here?”

“yeah.”

you shrugged a little.

“yeah. a little.”

but it still felt good.

like reconnecting with pieces of your childhood without having to dig too deeply into the parts that were missing.

that year you didn’t go home for christmas.

work offered you the chance to travel to france for a winter piece, something about documenting the slower pace of life in smaller towns and how it compared to the nonstop rush of big cities.

you said yes almost immediately.

and honestly, it was incredible.

snow-covered streets, long walks through old towns where everything felt slower and softer somehow. you spent weeks bouncing between different places, interviewing locals, writing late at night in small hotel rooms.

it was the kind of thing you’d dreamed about when you first decided you wanted to be a journalist.

one night you were alone in a random hotel somewhere in the countryside, half curled up on the bed with your laptop open, scrolling mindlessly before going to sleep.

a video clip popped up on your feed.

joe.

you almost scrolled past it automatically.

but something made you stop.

it was from an interview. joe sitting on a couch somewhere, laughing about something the host had said. the caption mentioned him talking about his childhood.

you clicked it.

“i loved growing up in boston,” he was saying. “i miss it sometimes.”

you smiled faintly. that part wasn’t surprising.

then he said your name.

you actually blinked at the screen.

“i had this best friend growing up,” joe continued, smiling a little. “we lived across the street from each other. we were basically attached at the hip.”

he talked about you like it was the most natural thing in the world.

about adventures in the backyard, about the creek, about growing up with his sisters and your brother around.

“it was the best time” he said.

something warm and bittersweet settled in your chest.

then the interviewer asked the obvious question.

“are you two still friends?”

joe hesitated.

just for a second.

“i guess… yeah,” he said eventually, rubbing the back of his neck a little. “i think we always will be.”

you let out a quiet breath.

right.

okay.

you ignored the part of your brain that wanted to point out the obvious. that he had stopped talking to you a long time ago.

instead you focused on the part that mattered.

that he remembered. that he still appreciated the years you’d spent side by side growing up. that somewhere in the middle of his very big life now, there was still a small place where those memories lived.

-

the next summer you ended up back home for a few weeks.

work had given you a break between projects, and for the first time in a while you didn’t have somewhere else you needed to be. so you flew back to boston and stepped into the same quiet street you’d grown up on.

it felt different.

not physically, the houses were the same, the sidewalks still cracked in the same places, the same trees hanging over the road. joe’s house was still sitting right across from yours like it always had.

but the feeling of it had shifted. like time had moved forward without asking anyone’s permission.

your parents had made a decision while you were gone, apparently.

they got a dog.

“you got a what?” you asked the first morning you were home.

your mom looked very pleased with herself.

“a dog.”

the dog in question was currently sprinting around the kitchen.

“we thought the house was too quiet” your dad added.

so naturally, the next morning you were given the task of walking it.

you clipped the leash on and stepped outside into the warm summer air, the dog pulling slightly ahead of you like it had somewhere important to be.

without really thinking about it, you started walking toward the creek.

partly because the dog needed the exercise.

mostly because you just wanted to go back there.

the path through the trees hadn’t changed at all. same dirt trail, same patches of sunlight breaking through the leaves.

when the water finally came into view you slowed down.

the dock was still there. crooked like always.

you walked out to the end of it and sat down, the wood creaking faintly under your weight. the dog circled once before flopping down next to you, satisfied.

for a while you just looked at the water.

it felt weird being there alone.

your mind wandered the way it always did there, drifting through memories you hadn’t thought about in years. late summer nights, your feet in the water, joe sitting beside you talking about some random thing that suddenly felt like the most important conversation in the world.

and then you thought about the promise.

fourteen years old, pinkies hooked together.

promise we won’t stop being friends when we’re older.

you smiled faintly to yourself.

after a moment you pulled your phone out of your pocket.

it felt a little ridiculous.

you hadn’t texted joe in… you weren’t even sure how long.

but sitting there on that dock made it feel less strange somehow.

so you typed something simple.

hey. this is kinda random but i’ve been seeing what you’ve been doing lately and i’m really proud of you. hope you’re doing okay. i’m back home for a bit and i’m sitting at the creek and it reminded me of you.

you stared at the message for a second.

then you hit send.

the dog shifted beside you, sighing softly.

you set your phone down next to you on the dock.

it felt good.

not because you expected a reply.

but because a part of you felt settled. like you’d closed a small door that had been left open for too long.

even if he never answered, he’d at least see it.

that was enough.

meanwhile, across the country in los angeles, joe wasn’t doing great.

the last few months had been rough.

he and his girlfriend had broken up. one of those long, messy endings where nothing dramatic happened but everything still fell apart anyway. interviews kept piling up, filming schedules were exhausting, and fame had started bringing a thousand little pressures he’d never really prepared for.

it felt like everything in his life was moving too fast.

he was halfway across his apartment when his phone buzzed.

he almost ignored it.

but when he glanced down and saw your name, he stopped walking entirely.

for a second he just stared at the screen.

your message sat there, simple and calm and completely unexpected.

…i’m really proud of you.

joe felt something twist sharply in his chest.

not because you’d said anything dramatic but because it suddenly hit him that this was the first time you two had spoken in… how long?

years?

how the hell did that happen?

he rubbed a hand over his face, pacing slowly now.

he’d meant to text you. so many times.

he’d thought about it while traveling, while sitting in trailers between scenes, while lying awake in hotel rooms after long days of filming.

i should text her.

i’ll do it tomorrow.

and then tomorrow turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months, and suddenly it felt too late.

now here you were.

texting him like nothing terrible had happened. just telling him you were proud of him and that you were sitting at the creek.

he could picture it perfectly.

joe leaned against the kitchen counter, staring at your message again.

…i’m really proud of you.

that sentence hit him harder than he expected.

he remembered the first time you’d said that.

you were both maybe seven years old. his little hockey team had won some junior game. nothing official, just a bunch of kids running around on the ice while parents cheered in the stands.

he’d walked out of the rink and there you were, waiting with your parents.

missing teeth. biggest smile he’d ever seen.

“i’m proud of you” you’d said like it was the most important announcement in the world.

later you’d teased him for months about the fact that you’d lost more teeth than him first. you used it constantly whenever you needed to win an argument. and somehow, even after all the premieres and interviews and applause and everything else that came with the last few years joe didn’t think anything had ever felt quite like hearing you say that.

he stared down at his phone again.

a heavy, guilty feeling settled in his chest.

because he had let it get to this. he’d let years pass without fixing it.

and he really fucking hated himself for that.

his thumb hovered over the screen.

for a second he wondered if he even deserved to text you back.

but of course he did anyway.

yeah i’m okay.

he sent it.

then immediately frowned at himself.

that wasn’t really the truth, and it definitely wasn’t how he talked to you. even after all this time it felt weird pretending things were fine when it was you on the other side of the conversation.

actually that’s kind of a lie.

he rubbed the back of his neck while he typed.

things have been a little stressful lately. but i’m alright. mostly.

and i’m really sorry it’s been so long.

he stared at the screen after sending that one.

hope you’re still killing it over in new york.

back at the creek your phone buzzed and you blinked down at it, a little surprised he’d actually replied.

you read the messages slowly, then typed back.

the conversation wasn’t long. just a handful of texts back and forth at first. the kind of awkward catching up that happens when two people haven’t talked in a long time but also know each other too well for it to feel completely strange.

you told him work was going well. he told you filming had been chaotic. you asked how la was treating him.

at one point you mentioned kate.

because she moved to new york a while ago, you typed. we’ve been hanging out a lot. i promised i’d show her around.

on the other side of the country joe leaned back against his counter, reading that line twice.

a weird little twist of jealousy hit him in the chest before he could stop it.

which was stupid.

he had absolutely no reason to feel that way.

but the image of you wandering around new york together made him wish he was the one there instead. wish he was the one seeing you all the time.

that’s good, he typed back.

you eventually stood up from the dock, clipping the leash back onto the dog.

anyway, you wrote, i should probably head back before this dog drags me home herself.

but it was good hearing from you.

he stared at that message for a second before replying.

yeah. it was.

you slipped your phone back into your pocket and started walking home through the trees, the dog trotting ahead of you happily.

even if that ended up being the last time you and joe ever spoke properly, it felt like something had settled into place. like the story had a little more clarity now.

that night, though, your phone rang.

you squinted at the screen from your bed.

joe calling.

for a second you considered letting it go to voicemail out of pure shock.

then you answered.

“hello?”

“hey.”

his voice sounded almost exactly the same.

maybe a little older. a little more tired. but still joe.

and somehow the conversation slipped into place almost instantly, like the last few years had been nothing more than a long pause.

joe started rambling within the first two minutes. something about filming schedules and a ridiculous story about a co-star forgetting their lines in the middle of a scene. you laughed, leaning back against your pillows while the house around you stayed quiet.

then you told him about france.

the small towns. the interviews. the weird hotel rooms.

“that’s incredible” he said.

and you could hear it in his voice, he meant it.

genuinely.

toward the end of the call it was well past midnight for you. the room was dark except for the faint light coming through the window, while joe was sitting somewhere in the middle of a sunny la afternoon.

he went quiet for a second.

“you know what’s weird?” he said.

“what?”

“this feels exactly the same.”

you smiled a little into the phone.

because it did.

even after everything it was still easy. still comfortable in that strange way that only existed between the two of you.

joe leaned back in his chair, rubbing a hand through his hair.

he’d spent years thinking he’d somehow lost his best friend.

and now after one conversation he could feel it again, like it had never really gone anywhere.

“i’m gonna text you more,” he said suddenly. “like actually this time.”

you hummed softly in response.

“okay.”

but the way you said it sounded careful. like you weren’t sure you believed him.

and honestly, that stung a little.

but what else could he expect?

you hung up not long after that.

and for a while, you both meant it. but life slipped in again.

when you were back in new york, things got busy. work piled up, his filming schedules shifted, time zones still made things harder than they should’ve been.

weeks passed. then more. and you didn’t really talk again.

until months later.

you weren’t even thinking about joe that morning.

you were just in the grocery store near your apartment, pushing a cart slowly down the aisle while half-reading a list on your phone.

you turned the corner at the end of the aisle.

and walked straight into someone.

“oh- sorry” you started automatically.

the other person froze.

you looked up.

joe looked like he’d just seen a ghost.

but not in a bad way, more like shock mixed with something softer.

“oh my god” he said.

before you could even react, he stepped forward and pulled you into a hug.

you laughed in surprise but hugged him back automatically, your arms wrapping around him like it was the most normal thing in the world.

“what the hell?” you said into his shoulder.

he pulled back slightly, still grinning in disbelief.

“what are you doing here?”

you blinked at him.

“…i live here.”

“right,” he said quickly, running a hand through his hair. “right, yeah. that makes sense.”

you grabbed the cart again, still laughing a little.

joe immediately fell into step beside you and then followed you around the store like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“i’m here for a conference thing,” he said as you grabbed something off a shelf. “like interviews and panels and all that.”

“fun.”

“not really.”

you smiled faintly.

as you reached the checkout area he shifted awkwardly for a second before speaking again.

“i’m in town for the week” he said.

you glanced up at him.

“yeah?”

“yeah.”

he hesitated.

“we should… meet up or something.”

-

you did end up meeting up.

a couple nights later you were sitting across from joe at a small restaurant you liked a few blocks from your apartment.

joe kept glancing around like he was taking everything in.

“this place is nice” he said.

“i come here a lot,” you replied, taking a sip of your drink. “the pasta’s good.”

“good to know.”

for a while the conversation stayed light. catching up properly this time instead of in rushed texts or late night phone calls.

at one point joe leaned back in his chair a little.

“i actually got into music recently” he said.

you raised an eyebrow. “like listening to it?”

“no, like… making it.”

“of course you did,” you laughed. “you can’t just pick one job like a normal person?”

he grinned.

“apparently not.”

you tapped your fork lightly against your plate.

“i actually did a piece a while ago about music in the city,” you said. “small venues, street performers, that kind of thing.”

“really?”

“yeah. it was one of my favourite things i’ve worked on.”

joe nodded thoughtfully.

“that sounds like something you’d like.”

as the night went on the restaurant slowly got quieter. tables emptied, the noise dropped until it was mostly just low conversations and the clink of dishes from the kitchen.

joe had been fiddling with his glass for a minute before he finally spoke again.

“can i ask you something?”

“sure.”

he hesitated slightly.

“do you blame me?”

you looked up at him.

“for why we stopped talking.”

you didn’t answer immediately.

not because you didn’t know the answer. just because you wanted to say it honestly.

“partially,” you said after a moment.

joe nodded slowly, like he’d expected that.

“but i was never mad,” you added. “i kinda just… expected it.”

his brow furrowed slightly.

“expected it?”

“yeah.”

you shrugged lightly.

“you moved on with your life. things got big and busy and complicated. that happens.”

you leaned back a little in your chair.

“so i just decided to be happy with the childhood we had.”

joe looked down at the table for a second.

“and it’s not like i was trying that hard to stay close either,” you continued. “i let myself drift the moment you did.”

he let out a quiet breath.

“yeah,” he said. “that’s… fair.”

after a moment he looked back up at you.

“i’m still really sorry though.”

you smiled faintly.

“i know.”

“i never wanted you to feel like you were something i could just let go of,” he said. “even if that’s kind of what happened.”

you both sat there quietly for a second.

“i just got caught up in everything” he added.

you raised an eyebrow.

“that’s kind of a shitty excuse.”

he snorted.

“yeah. it really is.”

you both laughed.

after a minute joe leaned forward again slightly.

“hey.”

“yeah?”

“will you come home for christmas this year?”

you blinked at him.

“that’s months away.”

“i know.”

“why are you asking now?”

he shrugged.

“just… try.”

you narrowed your eyes at him.

“you’re gonna blow me off again.”

joe scoffed immediately.

“i am not.”

you tilted your head skeptically.

he shook his head, smiling a little.

“just try.”

somehow, months later, it actually happened.

you were home for christmas.

so was your brother. and joe. and all four of his sisters.

it had been years since everyone had been in the same place at the same time, but somehow it worked out that year.

which is how all of you ended up outside in joe’s family backyard, sitting in the old deck chairs that had been there forever.

it was literally snowing.

everyone was wrapped up in blankets and jackets, breath visible in the cold air.

“this is stupid” one of his sisters complained.

“it’s tradition” someone else argued.

and they were right.

every time the whole group was together growing up, you ended up out here eventually. it didn’t matter if it was summer or winter, the backyard had always been the meeting spot.

so now, even with snow dusting the ground and freezing air biting at your noses, you were all sitting there laughing and talking like it was the most normal thing in the world.

your brother was telling some ridiculous story from work. kate was arguing with one of the other sisters. someone passed around mugs of hot chocolate.

joe sat a little quieter than usual.

not because he wasn’t enjoying it. but because he was looking around. really looking. at his sisters. at your brother. at you. at all the people who had been there since the very beginning.

it hit him suddenly how rare something like this actually was.

how rare it was for a group of people to grow up together and somehow still find their way back to the same place years later.

and you. you were the rarest part of it.

joe leaned back slightly in his chair, watching you laugh at something kate had just said.

and for the first time in a long time, he thought about how much he loved you.

-

that night joe couldn’t sleep.

the house was quiet in the way it only gets late at night during winter. the heat humming softly through the vents, the occasional creak of old wood settling in the cold. everyone else had gone to bed hours ago.

but joe was wide awake.

he was lying there staring at the ceiling, thinking about you.

really thinking about you.

about the first time he realised he was in love with you.

he could trace it back pretty clearly now. high school. someone had made another one of those comments. the ones people had been making for years.

are you two dating or what?

normally he’d roll his eyes. normally you’d both deny it automatically and move on.

but that time he didn’t. he’d just shrugged.

“yeah.”

he remembered glancing over at you right after he said it. waiting. half expecting you to make a face or shove his shoulder or laugh and immediately correct the person.

but you hadn’t.

you’d just rolled your eyes and kept walking.

and for some reason that had made something flutter weirdly in his chest.

he hadn’t done anything about it though.

not then. not later.

he dated other people. had real relationships even. girls he genuinely liked, even loved in different ways.

he never said anything to you.

not when you graduated high school together. not when you hugged goodbye before leaving for college. not when he first flew out to start filming stranger things.

never.

the closest he’d come to losing you completely was when you stopped talking those years later. when life got loud and messy and he let distance do what distance does. and even when he met his most recent girlfriend, someone he really did care about, loving her never really erased you.

it just dimmed that part of his brain for a while.

like turning the lights off in a room.

but the room was still there.

so now he was lying there staring at the ceiling wondering one thing.

at what point was enough enough?

he’d already lost you once. he only kind of had you back now. so when was it going to be too late to say anything?

if it wasn’t already.

because honestly, it probably was.

that thought made his chest tighten.

so he did something impulsive.

he grabbed his phone and texted you.

are you awake?

a minute later your reply came through.

yeah.

he sat up immediately.

wrap up and meet me outside.

you didn’t ask why.

you never really did when it came to him.

ten minutes later you stepped outside your house bundled in a coat and scarf, the cold biting instantly at your cheeks.

joe was already waiting across the street.

“hi” you said, breath fogging in the air.

“hi.”

“what’s wrong?”

“nothing.”

you raised an eyebrow but didn’t push it.

“okay.”

you started walking.

neither of you said where you were going.

you both already knew.

the path to the creek was icy in patches, the trees bare and quiet under the pale winter moon.

you walked mostly in silence until your foot hit a slick patch of ice and you almost went down.

“shit-”

you yelped, flailing slightly before catching yourself.

joe grabbed your arm instinctively.

“you good?”

“yeah,” you laughed breathlessly. “almost died but it’s fine.”

“dramatic.”

“shut up.”

when the pond finally came into view it looked completely different from the last time.

the water was frozen over, a smooth sheet of pale ice stretching across the surface. the dock was still there though. you both walked out to the end and sat down like you had a thousand times before. for a moment you just looked out at the frozen lake.

then you turned your head slightly toward him.

“so,” you said. “what’s wrong?”

joe smiled faintly.

“nothing.”

you studied him for a second.

then, surprisingly, you seemed okay with that answer.

you leaned back on your hands and looked up at the sky instead.

the stars were sharp in the cold air.

joe watched you quietly.

and he had a sudden, overwhelming thought.

you were always beautiful. he’d known that forever. but moments like this, under moonlight, felt different. like they belonged to him somehow.

selfish. but true.

before he could talk himself out of it, he reached over and took your hand.

you turned your head immediately, surprised.

joe was already looking at you.

“you know,” he said quietly, “i was thinking.”

“that’s dangerous.”

he huffed a small laugh.

“i think i finally know the moment i fell in love with you.”

you froze slightly.

completely caught off guard. for once you didn’t have anything to say.

joe looked back out at the frozen lake.

“i think it was when we decided to be co-captains” he said.

you blinked.

“i didn’t realise it then obviously. not until high school actually”

“what?” you said softly.

he just shrugged again and looked away.

“i just… wanted you to know.”

the two of you sat there quietly for a moment. the words settling into the cold air between you. then you spoke. very calmly.

“when you gave me your ice cream.”

joe turned his head back toward you.

“…huh?”

you smiled faintly.

“that’s when i did.”

“did what?”

“fell in love with you.”

he blinked.

you laughed softly.

“i dropped my ice cream and started crying,” you explained. “and you gave me yours. it was already half eaten.”

the memory came rushing back immediately.

joe stared at you, a soft, almost stunned expression spreading across his face.

for a second neither of you spoke.

then he said quietly,

“i’m sorry i let you down.”

the words hung there for a moment.

you didn’t argue. didn’t tell him he hadn’t. you just shifted closer and rested your head against his shoulder.

and the two of you sat there on the old dock, looking out over the frozen creek, like you had your whole lives.

you stayed there for a while after that.

neither of you really said anything. you were both just sitting there, your head still resting against joe’s shoulder, his hand loosely holding yours while the cold air settled around you.

then suddenly something streaked across the sky.

“oh-” you sat up quickly. “look!”

a shooting star.

you immediately closed your eyes, hands clasped together like you had when you were a kid.

joe rolled his eyes.

“you’re unbelievable” he muttered.

but a second later he sighed and closed his eyes too.

you peeked at him.

“did you make a wish?”

he opened one eye.

“maybe.”

you grinned.

after another few minutes you both finally admitted defeat.

“i think my toes are about to fall off” you said.

“yeah,” joe agreed, standing up and offering you his hand. “we should go before we actually get frostbite.”

the walk back was quiet. the confession hung in the air between you, but neither of you felt the need to dissect it right away. it was just there now, something real that had finally been said out loud.

when you reached the street between your houses you slowed to a stop.

“well” you said softly.

“yeah.”

before you could say anything else, joe stepped forward and pulled you into a hug.

it was warm despite the cold air, familiar in the way only he could be. your arms wrapped around him automatically.

after a moment he pulled back slightly.

his hands came up to cup your face, his thumbs brushing lightly against your cheeks.

he was smiling at you.

you smiled back.

you both leaned in slowly, almost carefully. and then you kissed.

it felt like everything at once.

years of history wrapped into one small moment.

when you pulled apart you both just stood there for a second, smiling a little like you couldn’t quite believe it.

“goodnight” you said quietly.

“goodnight.”

and that was it.

you both went inside and went to bed like nothing dramatic had happened. but something had definitely changed.

-

when it was time for you to fly back to new york, joe flew with you.

“i have some time before i need to go back to la” he’d said casually.

you didn’t question it too much.

new york was loud and bright as always when you got back. the city buzzing with that end-of-year energy as everyone prepared for new year’s.

your friends were thrilled when you told them joe was visiting.

they’d heard about him for years, the childhood best friend who showed up in half your stories.

“so this is joe” one of them said when you introduced him.

joe laughed.

“feel like i’m being evaluated.”

“you are” your friend replied.

but they liked him almost immediately.

that night you all ended up packed together in someone’s apartment, music playing, drinks in hand, the windows fogged slightly from the warmth inside.

joe stayed close to you most of the night. not in a clingy way, just near. like he’d always been.

when midnight finally came everyone crowded around the window watching the fireworks burst over the city.

people were shouting the countdown.

“three!”

“two!”

“one!”

cheers erupted around the room.

and before you could even think about it joe leaned down and kissed you again.

this time it felt different. this felt like a beginning. something new unfolding between you. something that hadn’t existed before. and that’s exactly what it was.

-

life didn’t suddenly become perfect after that.

joe still got busy. filming schedules were still chaotic, interviews still happened, life still moved quickly.

but this time he did something differently.

he made sure the things that actually mattered stayed at the top of his list.

you.

you still made him grovel a little, obviously. you reminded him often that he had a lot of years to make up for.

he never complained about it. if anything, he seemed more than happy to earn his way back.

you met the rest of the stranger things cast eventually, long dinners where everyone talked over each other and joe looked weirdly proud every time someone made you laugh.

you met his new friends in la. he met more of yours in new york.

slowly, the two of you settled into something comfortable again. like finding your way back to a place you’d known your whole life.

until one evening, months later, joe finally said it.

you were walking through central park when he suddenly stopped.

“hey.”

“yeah?”

he rubbed the back of his neck a little.

“do you want to go out with me? officially?”

you blinked at him.

“joe.”

“i know,” he said quickly. “extremely overdue.”

you laughed.

“extremely.”

he smiled sheepishly.

“i swear i’ll make it worth it.”

you studied him for a second before nodding.

“okay.”

because of course you would.

honestly, you were kind of glad to finally have joe earning his way back into your life properly.

and joe had never been happier to have his co-captain back.

——————-

it had started with a simple remark. that’s all it was meant to stay at. unfortunately, steve was having an extremely rough day and feeling particularly snappy. and you were more than willing to snap back.

“babe, could you please let your bowl soak once you’re done eating so it’ll be a little easier to clean in the morning?” you requested as you scooped up some of the dinner you’d just made into a bowl for him and set it on the table.

steve shut the door behind him and huffed out a loud breath, clearly annoyed. “seriously? the first thing i hear is about a bowl? no ‘welcome home!’ or ‘how was your twelve-hour shift at the station?’ just dish inventory?”

you stopped and turned to face him, one hand on your hip and the other still holding his food. “i’ve just spent six hours studying for my finals and another hour cooking for you so you would have food ready when you came home. i’m not asking for much, just that you help out a little so i don’t come home to a growing ecosystem in the sink tomorrow.”

he scoffed and ran a hand over his face. “help out a little? i’m working my ass off at the station just to help out a little. i’m tired, babe, okay? my brain is absolutely fried.”

“we’re both tired, steve. that’s the whole point,” you retorted, almost laughing at how selfish he was being. “i have a lot on my plate with school and you’re working late nights, i get that, but that doesn’t mean the apartment is gonna clean itself. i’m not asking you to do it all yourself, i’m just asking you to help me make it easier.”

his jaw ticked as he shook his head. “i do help out. in so many ways. i work all of these shifts so i can pay for things like rent and groceries. maybe i just wanna sit down for five whole minutes without getting an entire performance review. it feels like you don’t even appreciate anything i do.”

a pang hit your chest. you could feel your eyes begin to burn with tears. “wow. you’re gonna go there?” you muttered, your voice a little quieter now and full of hurt. “i told you an apartment wasn’t a good idea. i’m in university and it’s hard to even find time for myself— let alone a job. you knew what you were getting into, so do not put that onto me.”

“nobody’s putting anything onto you. see— this is the issue! you’re always making something into something it isn’t,” he said a little too truthfully. it made your heart squeeze uncomfortably. “i just want to come home and be able to relax and kick my shoes off without the constant nagging and scolding.”

you could feel your heart shattering completely behind your ribs. “fine. if that’s what you want, then i’ll leave it to you.” you placed the bowl down by the stove and turned it off, your appetite suddenly disappearing. “i’m done, steve. we’ve had this conversation before and clearly, you’re not open to suggestions.”

his brows furrowed. “what are you even talking about? i’m exhausted, don’t you see that? i’m sooo sorry if i forget to clean one dish. it’s not like i spent the last twelve hours grinding to support us or anything.” the sarcasm in his voice was sickening.

“you’re not listening to me! we’ve been here before and nothing has changed at all since then,” you spat back, hot tears of pure anger pooling in your waterline. “i don’t care about the money, steve. we’ll figure it out, we always have. it’s about you being here! i feel like i never get to even see you anymore.”

he rolled his eyes and wiped the anger from his face, now replaced with sleepiness. “i’m exhausted, okay? and the second i walk through that door, you’re here to stress me out all over again. the entire world can’t revolve around you at all times, y’know.”

a silent tear rolled down your cheek but steve didn’t falter. he didn’t rush to wipe it and apologize profusely. he didn’t even look guilty. he just stood there and watched. you wiped it furiously with the sleeve of your hoodie and began searching around the kitchen for your car keys.

he sighed like it was inconveniencing him. “what are you doing?” he asked, pinching the bridge of his nose like an annoyed parent.

you finally found them and moved towards the front door, pushing past him in the process. “if you’re so exhausted and stressed out because of me, then i’ll just leave and you can have that relaxing night you so desperately want.”

steve started to follow you. “wait. can you at least put on a jacket? it’s cold out—“

you shut the door before he could finish. hot tears contrasted against the cold night breeze as you rushed to your car. he didn’t chase you outside. he just let you leave.

you drove over to your dads cabin for the night to clear your head and get some advice. hopper was clearly annoyed through the entirety of your story to hear that steve was being a douche to you. el looked like she could fight him at the sight of your tears.

sleeping in your old room should’ve felt nice or nostalgic at the very least. instead, it felt cold and lonely with the memories of you and steve when you were teenagers and fighting monsters together. all of the times you two burst into laughter when hopper came bursting through the door because it was shut instead of three inches. the times where he’d hold you through the night terrors after everything that happened. the mornings where he’d kiss you so soft and sweet before heading off to work. the very few rare times that you could see him and hopper through the crack of your door, bonding over whatever as they made breakfast together and actually laughed.

el must’ve noticed somehow. you still didn’t fully understand how she always knew what you were feeling before you did, but she just knew. there was a soft knock at your door before she slowly pushed it open and muttered a soft, “do you want to have a sleepover in my room?”

that’s how you ended up in her room for the night, practically getting zero sleep at all. you two just talked the entire night while laying side by side in her bed. being her older sister and all, she trusted you with everything. if you were to ask her, she’d say you were the wisest person she’d ever met.

so she talked about mike. told you everything you needed to know about their relationship and more. she let her feelings out completely, something she’d never fully done before with this situation. you could see the physical weight lift off of her chest even in the dark. you listened and gave advice when she asked.

then it was your turn, el desperately wanting to hear what happened. she’d always looked up to the two of you, saying how you guys were like the couples in those cheesy romcoms. you really didn’t have much to complain about like she did other than the fact that he was always working.

steve treated you better than anyone else ever had. your relationship was pretty much a dream come true— besides the whole workaholic thing that only recently started. other then that, he was the perfect boyfriend. it just sucked that one small thing was tearing you two apart.

somewhere along the rant, you two finally knocked out. you were awake a few short hours later and slowly crawling out of her bed to get ready. a quick shower, brush your teeth, wash your face, then head out. hopper was already outside on the porch smoking a cigarette, mumbling something about not being a stranger— which you definitely weren’t, you were over there all the time— as he pecked your forehead and then watched you pull out of the driveway.

when you walked back into the apartment, your brows furrowed. it was completely clean. not a single dish in sight, no crumbs on the dining table, no shoe prints on the floor. hell, it looked like he’d even dusted. you could see his feet hanging off the couch from where you were standing, assuming he’d slept there for the night instead of your shared room.

you quickly grabbed your school bag and headed back out to your car, hurrying before he woke up to head back to the radio station.

your 9:00 am was dreadful when the only thing you could think about was your failing relationship. it was absolutely plaguing your mind and making you feel dreadful and anxious all at once. it was as if there was this big metal chunk just sat on your chest.

you couldn’t focus for the rest of the day. you even tried studying at the library for a little to get some homework done— and also avoid coming home for a little longer— but you barely got through the first page of your book. it was like you were reading over the words but not comprehending them.

after another hour or so of this, you went home to your apartment. steve was in the living room when you walked in. you could see his feet hair peaking over the couch cushions. he didn’t speak and neither did you.

you quickly grabbed a plate and reached into the fridge for some eggos, plopping them down onto the plate before popping them into the microwave. you took the syrup bottle from the pantry and the waffles up to your room before shutting the door. no more interactions between the two of you happened that night.

that’s how the next morning continued as well. it was the weekend now. you got ready to head over to your dad’s cabin while he got ready for the station. was it a little petty when you made eggs and bacon only for you? maybe. but you really didn’t care about that right now. he could pick something up on the way like he often did.

you ate, cleaned your dish, and left without a word. your heart broke a little more the longer you two were silent.

while you and el rotted on the couch, eating junk and watching movies all morning, you heard the radio in the kitchen roar to life. hopper was cooking lunch for the three of you but stopped, urging you two to turn the tv down to listen when robin started giving her code words for a crawl tonight. so much for that peaceful weekend you’d been looking forward to.

the last few crawls had gone horribly wrong. you and hopper were always the ones in the upside down— not by his choice of course. there was one in particular that left you shaken up for a few days after dustin and jonathan got into an argument, ruining steve’s focus as he tried to intervene while driving. they ended up getting off track, leaving you and hopper with no signal and no knowledge on whether it was safe to head to the exit. you’d ended up with a nasty gash up your leg from an encounter with a demo.

you arrived with your family to the station shortly after. steve, robin, jonathan, will, mike, nancy, and joyce were already there waiting. after another few minutes, lucas and dustin finally arrived.

they began running over the plan like they had a hundred times before. you watched the projector screen and listened carefully from your spot beside your sister with your arms crossed over one another.

mike moved to stand at the map, pointing at a street near the high school. your chest tightened. he traced along the length of the road up until he reached hawkins high, tapping on it as he explained something about going back there.

you couldn’t hear him, not a single word. it was all foggy and muffled as if you were underwater. that was the place where you and hopper had gotten lost and attacked by demos. your heart raced so fast it felt like you might actually pass out. usually you had the weight of steve’s hand to calm you. but now everything felt so cold and overwhelming.

the group quickly became one big jumbled mess of words and protests. that was your way out. you quickly slipped upstairs and towards the front door, gasping for air and practically clawing at your neck to try and clear your airway.

steve was annoyed to say the least. one hand rubbed at his temple to soothe the forming headache from all of the chatter and the increasing volume. he let out a huff and glanced over at you to see if you were half as aggravated at he was— a habit he’d picked up on since the start of crawls —only to find your empty chair. his brows furrowed as he glanced around in search of you.

he looked behind him and still found no sign of you. his feet moved around the crowd before he could think. he jogged up the stairs quickly and walked past the shelves, glancing down each aisle to see if you were there. not a single sign. he looked towards the recording area and found nothing. his stomach was starting to turn uncomfortably.

he heard a soft thunk and turned to his right, noticing the door wide open and gently hitting the wall with the force of the wind. he moved quickly out of fear that something might’ve been seriously wrong.

when steve walked out, his heart dropped. he rushed over to your shaking form and gently pulled your hands from your neck. “hey, honey. it’s okay, you’re okay. i’m right here,” he cooed softly, frowning at the red lines on your skin from scratching at it. he’d seen this one too many times. not lately though. that’s what worried him most.

he carefully moved you to sit in the grass with him as he sat across from you, not wanting you crowd your space. “look at me, sweet girl. just keep your eyes on me,” he directed. you still weren’t focused. his hands came up to tenderly cradle your face, the soothing movements of his thumbs on your cheeks made your distracted gaze finally find him. “there you are,” he said with a tiny, encouraging smile. “you’re doing so well, honey. jus’ forget about everything else, ok? it’s just you and me right now. just us.”

you gasped and choked on your sobs, your hands coming up to grab at his wrists. “i can’t—“ you cried, trying so desperately to get any sort of air into your lungs. “steve— i can’t breathe. i can’t—“

he nodded along and gave you another encouraging smile. “you can. you’ve got this, ok? i’m right here with you. just follow my lead,” he said softly, taking in big, exaggerated deep breaths. “nice and slow. i’m right here with you.”

you tried to mimic him, getting quick bursts of air into before you felt your chest start to loosen the slightest bit. his thumbs caught each tear that rolled down your cheeks. “that’s it, honey,” he cooed sweetly, leaning forward to rest his forehead against your own. he held you like you were the most precious, fragile thing in the world. “again. big deep breath, ok? doin’ so good.”

with one more big inhale, you felt your breaths begin to slowly even out again. you moved quickly to wrap your arms around his neck and tuck your head into his chest as you cried. his big arms wrapped around your frame instinctively, gently rubbing circles into your lower back. “better?” he whispered.

you nodded against him slowly and tried to calm your tears. “better,” you confirmed through a cry, holding onto him tighter. “i— i can’t go back there, steve. not yet. the demos— what if they’re still there and—“

he gently shushed you to keep you from working yourself up again, one hand come up to cradle the back of your head. “i know, baby, it’s okay. you don’t have to, not until you’re ready,” he muttered against the side of your head, pressing sweet kisses to your hair. “you only do what you and hopper are comfortable with. we won’t make you do something you don’t want to.”

there was a long pause of silence as he let the words sink in before he was pulling back the slightest bit so he could see your face. “i’m sorry about the other night. everything i said— i didn’t mean it. none of it. i was just so burnt out and it was a really bad day. i took that out on you and that wasn’t fair. i should’ve never said those things,” he apologized, tears brimming in his waterline. “i take it back. all of it. you don’t make me feel like that at all. you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me and— and not having you these last few days made me realize how much it’d kill me to really lose you.”

a frown tugged at your lips. “i’m sorry too for getting all snappy and raising my voice at you. i should’ve been more considerate,” you murmured softly. “i appreciate everything you do for us. i’m sorry if i don’t say that enough.”

he shook his head and paced a long, loving kiss to your forehead. “don’t be sorry. you didn’t do anything wrong,” he reassured, a stray tear rolling down his cheek. “that was the reality check i needed. i should’ve been more considerate. you do a lot for us too on top of your busy schedule and i should be helping out more. i just got so caught up in working that i didn’t even realize how much i was hurting you. that’ll never happen again. i promise you.”

you smiled to yourself and nodded. “i love you,” you whispered, wiping the tear from his skin with your thumb.

he pressed a sweet kiss to your lips, sighing at the feeling. god, he’d missed this. “i love you,” he whispered with that lovesick grin. “i’m not done apologizing yet. i swear i’m gonna make it up to you.”

you let out a soft giggle and pretended to think for a moment. “can this apology include getting a puppy?”

steve playfully groaned as he leaned forward and peppered gentle kisses to your neck, the crawl meeting long forgotten now. “let me sit on it for a couple hours.”

“you’re such an idiot, jonathan,” it was a common sentence uttered from your lips lately, “you don’t even know what we’re arguing about!”

“you’re right, i don’t!” there was a frustrated whine to his voice, as he raked his hands through his hair, “i would never cheat on you-“

“i know you wouldn’t,” you huffed, “i’m not accusing you of doing anything. i’m accusing you of having feelings for someone else, and thinking i’m too stupid to notice!”

“come on, please,” he threw his head back, sighing, “nancy is just a friend, she was there for me a lot with everything with will. it’s not like that, i wouldn’t do that.”

“i told you i know that,” you shook your head, “but i’m not gonna hold you back from what you clearly want, okay? you’re free to do whatever with whoever you please.”

“wait- are you dumping me?” for a moment, you saw a flush of hurt across his face, but it seemed swallowed by an uneasy relief, “babe, come on. seriously.”

“let’s just take a break,” you suggested, not for the first time in your tumultuous relationship, “you can think about what you really want, and i’ll do the same, okay? it’s fine, jonathan, honestly. i’m not angry at you, i just want to figure this out.”

“yeah, okay. fine,” he let out a shaky breath, nodding slowly, “if that’s what you want.”

“it is,” you murmured, “we’ll talk in a couple weeks, okay? i think this’ll be good for both of us. you know i don’t want you to be hurt.”

“yeah, i know,” you could tell he meant it, “see you in 2 weeks, then?”

“2 weeks,” you smiled faintly, “see you then.” it was an odd feeling, the resolution, the relief. you loved jonathan, in a way. he’d been there through so much, even just as a friend, and you wanted nothing but the best for him, even if that best was nancy wheeler. he’d do the same for you, you told yourself, the words assuring you of your decision as you drove home.

what you didn’t expect, though, was to see them together the very next day as you strolled through town, on your way to return books to the library. she was laughing, her face bright in the way it only was around him, and he looked so at ease, so happy, smiling down at her in that shy way he did. they looked good together, you thought. great, even, like it was natural. it had never come that easy for the two of you. you shook the thoughts from your mind, sliding the books into their return slot and turning on your heel, heading back toward your house. as you rounded the street corner, you collided with a wall. no, not a wall, a chest, though it was firm and strong- you looked up, and there was steve harrington, a lopsided grin on his lips and a stray curl on his forehead.

“woah, there,” he laughed, one hand on your shoulder, steadying you, “you alright?”

“fine,” you nodded quickly, unsure why your skin felt so hot beneath his palm, “sorry, i was totally in my own world.”

“don’t worry about it,” he shook his head, letting his touch linger, “you’re y/n, right? byers girlfriend?”

you tried not to be irritated by the association; “yeah. we had science together senior year.”

“oh, i remember,” he laughed again, warm and rich, “you’re like, a complete genius. i would’ve failed if i didn’t get to peak over your shoulder at your notes.”

“you did not!” you gasped, swatting his arm, “that’s awful, steve! i didn’t know i was an accomplice in your cheating.”

“oh, relax. that was forever ago,” he grinned, “what’re you doing out? i saw byers earlier, but he was with nancy.”

you bristled slightly, “i just had to return some books. i wasn’t meeting jonathan.”

“he’s not screwing around on you, is he?” he suddenly looked serious, stern, “i’ll go talk some sense into him, if he is. you just say the word.”

“no, steve, it’s fine,” you shook your head, almost smiling at his sincerity, hesitating before slowly explaining the situation, this break arrangement, jonathan’s infatuation.

“sounds like he is screwing around,” steve said when you were finished, eyeing you cautiously, like he was worried, “but you sound like you don’t care. why not just break up with him?”

“i want him to see this is the right thing,” you shrugged, “it’s complicated, i guess. i’m really not upset, though. you can stop looking at me like that.”

he put his hands up in mock surrender, eyes sparkling, “hey, i wasn’t looking at you like anything. i do have an idea, though.”

“what’s that?” you eyed him suspiciously.

“let me take you out,” he suggested, almost casually, “i mean, if byers gets to run around with nance. it’s only fair, don’t you think?”

“are you flirting with me, steve harrington?” you gasped dramatically, grinning.

“come on, now. who wouldn’t flirt with you?” his voice was softer, sincere, cutting right through the careless charade you’d put on. so, fine, okay. you’d go on a date with steve harrington.

steve, it turns out, was endlessly charming. you knew he could flirt, had seen it time and time again in high school, witnessed the trail of girls he left in his wake, always swooning and swearing he was some sort of god. what you didn’t expect, though, was to become one of those girls yourself, giggling and sharing a milkshake with him, hanging off his every word like it was gospel. it had been a long time since you’d been so relaxed, had such easy fun, let someone charm you. a small part of you felt guilty; it had only been one day, after all. but then you remembered the way jonathan and nancy had looked together, and the months on end that you’d spent with one foot out the door. it hadn’t just been a day, not really. it had been nearly a year of halfhearted affection and forced loyalty. so you pushed it all down, focusing on steve, which felt like the easiest thing in the world when he was so focused on you in return.

“you really are beautiful,” steve’s voice pulled you from your thoughts, and you blinked, slightly startled, “i mean, you were pretty in school, obviously. but you’re gorgeous now.”

“oh,” you flushed, down to your bones, “thank you. i look the same, though, really-“

“don’t do that,” he tsk’d, “let me tell a beautiful girl that she’s beautiful, yeah?” and then he reached across the table, brushing a lock of hair from your face, gentle as anything, “i get why byers was always following you around with that camera. i wish i had one right now.”

you’d never been the spontaneous type. you were methodical, an overthinker, precise and considerate. you weren’t sure, despite all of this, what possessed you to lean over the table and kiss steve harrington. maybe it was the lighting, maybe the way his eyes shined when he looked at you, the way his fingers toyed with the strand of hair as he tucked it behind your ear. you could tell yourself any number of things, but you knew it was only that it was him, that he liked you, that you liked him, that it felt natural, just as it did for nancy and jonathan.

he kissed you back the same way he did everything, easy and sure, right in a way you couldn’t fake. his hand settled on your cheek, cupping your face, pulling you closer despite the diners other occupants. his tongue slid across your bottom lip, and you had to pull away, cheeks hot and lips shining.

“we shouldn’t-“ left your lips, just as he said, “my cars right outside.”

he paid the bill in cash, leaving an excellent tip and pulling you out of the diner in a flurry of movement.

“let me take you somewhere,” he pulled the passenger door open for you, waiting until your legs were tucked safely inside before closing it, sliding across the hood as he went around to his side.

“like where?” you were still buzzing from the kiss, watching his every move, hungry for him.

“just trust me,” shockingly, you found that you did.

his hand settled on your thigh across the console as he drove, the fingers of his free hand tapping the steering wheel along to the music playing quietly from his radio. you drank in the sight of his jawline as he rolled a toothpick from the diner between his teeth, the way the skin of his neck tightened with each motion, his biceps straining against his cotton tee.

“i love this song,” he murmured, i’m on fire by bruce springsteen playing through his speakers. then, something you thought you’d never see; steve harrington was singing along, low in his chest, his thumb rubbing circles on your thigh. “tell me now, baby, is he good to you?” his eyes darted between you and the road, “can he do to you the things that i do?”

there was the unmistakable warmth of wanting, coiled in your stomach, making you shift in the seat of his beamer. the words, the intimacy of the moment, the rasp of his voice, they all washed over you, settled low between your thighs. finally, when you thought it would never ebb, he pulled off onto a side road, driving to the edge of a steep overlook, his car alone with the trees and grassy knolls. beneath you, hawkins was merely a blur of buildings and streetlights.

“this is beautiful,” you said, in awe.

“you’re beautiful,” he was perhaps even more awestruck than you.

you leaned over the console, kissing him again, so grateful for this moment with him. he was rougher now that you were alone, nipping at your bottom lip, hungry and uncaring if it was too fast. it went on for what felt like hours, the slow drag of his mouth against yours, his hands wandering over your body, not yet daring to sneak beneath your clothes. finally, when the wanting was too much, you were awkwardly fumbling into the backseat, giggling breathlessly as you fell into him.

“can i?” he asked, ever the gentleman as he pulled at the hem of your top, eyes shiny and pleading.

“yes, yes of course,” you nodded quickly, helping him free you from it, then pulling off his own. gradually, between kisses, you managed to shed the rest of your clothes, until you were bare except for your underwear.

“you are so beautiful,” he sounded like he was in pain, almost, or in love. you couldn’t tell in the dark, “let me taste you, please.”

you could’ve died and gone to heaven as he slid to his knees in the floorboard, parting your thighs, pushing your slick underwear aside and burying his face between your legs.

“oh my god, steve,” you gasped, hand migrating to his mess of curls, tugging lightly as he lapped at your core, his nose brushing your clit deliciously. he was like a man possessed, right in his element as he watched your reactions, eyes dark with lust. you were practically grinding against his face, eyes rolled back, back arched off the seat.

“please,” you mewled, “fuck, i’m so close. you’re so good, steve.” he was spurred on by your praise, groaning into you, the sound vibrating against your flushed skin. his tongue dipped into you, and you fell apart all at once, fingers tight in his hair, thighs threatening to clamp closed around him.

“so good,” he exhaled as he pulled away, his lips shiny with your slick, “you taste so fucking good.” he perched back over you, kissing you hard and hot, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. you pulled at him, hands on his shoulders, hungry for more, always more.

“please,” you panted between messy kisses, reaching between your bodies, cupping his bulge, nearly moaning at the size and weight of him, “need you to fuck me.”

“yeah?” he grinned at that, cocky as ever, “i can manage that.” he pulled his boxers off with one hand, his other woven through your hair, pulling your head aside to leave your neck open for him to kiss and bite at. you gasped as you felt his tip against your dripping core, teasing your hole, sliding against your puffy clit.

“you’re so wet, baby,” his voice was deeper, raspier, than before, “i don’t have a condom, ‘s that okay?”

“it’s fine,” you nodded quickly, “on the pill.”

he didn’t need anymore encouragement. with that, he pressed into you, agonizingly slow, stretching your walls further with each inch.

“oh, fuck,” you gripped his shoulders tightly, wincing at the burn of the stretch, “you’re so big.”

“you’re almost there,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead, one hand parting your thighs further, watching as he slid into you.

finally, he bottomed out inside of you, filling you deeper than you ever had been before. you were delirious with the feeling of him, of the way it ached, the way you knew you’d feel him for days after.

“atta girl,” he hissed out, twitching inside you, “can i move now? are you okay?”

“please,” you nodded immediately, “i can take it.” and take it, you did.

he pulled out of you fully before bottoming out once more, stealing all the air from your lungs, drawing a gasp from your lips. one hand made a home on your waist, the other gripping the seat above you, steadying himself effortlessly. you were a mess beneath him in an instant, undoubtedly soaking the car seat beneath you, lewd wet sounds filling the small space.

“you feel so good,” he praised, voice shaking, “fucking perfect, sucking me in. you needed this, didn’t you, baby?”

“mhm!” your jaw was slack as his tip brushed that spot deep within your walls, “needed it so bad, stevie, fuck. you’re so good, so big.”

“knew you did,” he murmured, “did he take care of you? hm? did he take you like this, or could i easily fill his shoes?”

“never like this,” you mewled, “nobody’s ever- nngh, nobody’s felt like this.”

“fuck,” he dropped his head down to kiss you again, messy, spit slicking your chin as he licked into your open mouth greedily. he pounded into you, the car shaking, your thighs trembling right along with it. you squeezed around him as his thumb came down to circle your clit, your back arching from the seat, chest pressing against his.

“come on, baby,” he encouraged, pulling away to kiss your jaw, then trailing down to your throat, “cum on my cock, please? i’m so close, wanna feel you let go.”

“i’m- fuck, oh my god,” you were lost for words, gasping as you came undone, walls spasming around him, shaking in his arms.

“there you go,” he groaned, “oh, fuck, you’re so tight. where d’you want it, baby? hurry.”

“inside,” you whined, hating the idea of him wasting it anywhere else, “it’s okay, please, just want it.”

he kissed you again, slow and tender, as he spilled inside you, warmth flooding your walls, and you shuddered at the feeling, an intimacy you’d never shared even with jonathan.

“my god,” he panted, pulling out slowly, chest heaving, “that was- you’re incredible. you’re okay, right?”

“mhm,” you nodded, blissed out, eyes barely open, but greedily drinking in the sight of him in the afterglow, “perfect, stevie.”

“i like that,” he grinned sheepishly, “stevie. nobody calls me that.”

“that’ll be your new nickname, then,” you murmured fondly, sitting up and wincing at the ache between your thighs, already, “can you help me find my clothes?”

he laughed slightly as he nodded, handing you your ruffled clothes, pulling his own wrinkled tee over his head. after you were both redressed, he just sat there for a moment, looking over at you.

“is this gonna happen again?” he asked softly, almost hesitantly, “or is it over when the breaks over?”

“it was never just going to a break,” you said after a beat, “i’d really like to see you again. maybe not in the back of your car next time, though?”

“i’ll take you wherever you want,” he smiled, “as long as you agree to see me again.”

“you can’t keep me away,” you grinned, leaning over and pressing a kiss to his cheek, “who knew you were such a romantic, stevie?”

Your head throbbed, and your eyes felt heavy. Inside, the party raged on, music booming, laughter spilling into the night, but you only watched from your quiet corner, a bittersweet smile hovering on your face. You had once been the life of the party, the one whose presence made a night worth remembering, but now, here you were, tucked in the backseat, ready to call it a night before midnight.

Thinking about it, parties weren’t the only thing he’d taken from you. He’d stolen something else too, the spark in your eyes, the part of you that used to feel untouchable. You realized it the moment you caught yourself staring at your reflection in the bathtub, trying to figure out what was missing. You’d learned to look away from mirrors. You wished you could flee your thoughts just as easily.

A loud laugh jolted you out of your reverie. It was Nancy, already tipsy, clinging to Steve, laughing like the world revolved around her. And there he was, looking at her with that infuriating, devoted smile, his puppy eyes sparkling as he looked at her. 

He opened the front door carefully, guiding her inside with gentle hands before slipping into the driver’s seat. You sank a little deeper into the back, clutching your now empty red cup, and tried to tell yourself it didn’t matter, even if your heart whispered otherwise. 

“You good?” he asked, glancing back at you as he started the engine. 

You shivered as a gust of cold air swept through the car. “Jesus, it’s freezing,” he muttered, turning the dial to crank up the heat before pulling onto the road. 

“Just tired,” you offered softly, your fingers fidgeting with the edge of the red cup. 

The streets were quiet, the glow of the streetlights painting everything in streaks of gold and white. Rain began to fall lightly, blurring the world beyond the window. You leaned back in the backseat, exhausted, the faint smell of alcohol and smoke from the party still clinging to the air. Nancy was slumped against the window, head tipped lazily to the side, her hair messy from dancing and a few too many drinks. Without thinking, you reached over and gently stroked her hair, smiling at your best friend. She’d been drinking a lot lately. You knew she needed this, needed to let loose. She put far too much pressure on herself, and tonight, at least, she deserved a little freedom. 

“Thanks for driving me home early,” you said softly, trying not to sound needy “I… I didn’t want to stay out so late tonight.” 

He flicked a glance at you through the rearview mirror, one corner of his mouth lifting just slightly. 

“Don’t worry about it,” he said casually. “I was ready to bail too. Josh is a dick.” 

You smiled, a little, the tension in your chest loosening. He didn’t make you feel guilty. He didn’t need to. That small consideration hit harder that you expected. 

The low hum of INXS - Never Tear Us Apart filled the car, soft and calming, as Steve hummed along quietly. When the car hit a bump, your hand went out reflexively to steady yourself against the driver’s seat. Steve’s eyes flicked toward you, his fingers brushed yours lightly, just enough to make contact, and then retreated back to the wheel as if nothing happened. Your chest skipped a beat, and you let your hand rest on your lap, suddenly noticing how his warmth still lingered on your skin. You glanced at him, catching the faint crease between his brows, the tension in his jaw and the way his gaze lingered just a fraction too long in the rearview mirror. 

“You’ve been quiet tonight,” he said, his gaze briefly flicking to you, a hint of concern in his eyes. 

“Just… worn out,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper, fragile and thin. 

He didn’t say anything for a moment, just let the car hum along the road. Then almost under his breath, he murmured, “You don’t have to hide it, you know. I’ve got you.” 

His words wrapped around you in a way that made something inside you loosen, and you allowed yourself a small smile, just enough to feel lighter than you had all night. 

You wanted to say something, to tell him how safe and seen you felt in that moment, but the words caught in your throat as you glanced at his girlfriend, still blissfully asleep beside him. Instead, you leaned back, letting the soft patter of the rain and the distant music fill the silence between you.

By the time he pulled into your driveway, the song had ended. You stepped out into the rain, your little black dress clinging in the wind. He tossed his jacket over your shoulders, it smelled like him, warm musk, with just a hint of smoke. It hurt to feel so safe and so wrong at the same time. As you retreated to your room, you realized something you weren’t quite ready to put into words. 

2.

The fluorescent lights buzzed softly overhead as you wandered through the nearly empty mall, the scent of popcorn and perfume hanging faintly in the air. Nancy had wandered off into a clothing store, leaving you and Steve alone near the record shop. 

You had your favorite ice cream in one hand and a bag of clothes in the other. It felt like the first time in ages that you were truly enjoying yourself. Maybe it was the ice cream, or maybe it was him? But either way, you felt light, carefree, and almost… happy. 

You were wandering through the aisle of the record shop, letting your fingers trail over the vinyls, the familiar smell of paper filling the air. The buzz of the place was comforting and safe, but then you felt a shift, a presence too close, too eager. You glanced up to find a guy standing beside you, leaning in just a little too much, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. 

“Hey,” he said, his voice low and smooth. “You come here often?” 

You half-rolled your eyes, already bored with the cliché pickup line, but you forced a polite smile, just to brush him off. “Sometimes,” you replied, glancing away, hoping he’d get the hint. 

He didn’t. 

His eyes lingered just a second too long, not meeting your face but clearly looking at your legs, the hem of your dress grazing just above your knees. You could feel the weight of his gaze as it slid over you, uncomfortable and persistent. 

“Nice dress,” he added, his tone dripping with insincerity. “Looks great on you.” 

You tried to step back, but he shifted, blocking your path. You could feel the unease creeping up your spine, your stomach tightening. You opened your mouth to brush him off, but before you could, you felt Steve’s presence at your side. He didn’t say a word, he didn’t need to, but the way he stood next to you, close but not touching, made the guy falter. He glanced between you two, then looked back at Steve, who hadn’t even acknowledged him with more than a cold glance. 

The guy hesitated, clearly uncomfortable now, but still he smirked and muttered something about “maybe seeing you around”. Arrogant, clueless… and painfully reminiscent of your ex. He backed off, though not without a lingering, almost apologetic glance at Steve. 

You looked up at Steve, expecting something. Anything. But he didn’t react. His expression stayed neutral, almost unreadable, yet the tension in his posture spoke louder than words. He wasn’t angry. Not at the guy, at least. 

“Everything alright?” Steve said after a beat, his voice casual, his hand brushing against yours. 

“Yeah,” you said, straightening up and brushing it off. “Just an asshole.” 

He gave a simple nod, then turned and kept walking, the conversation forgotten, but the brief interaction lingered between the two of you like unspoken tension. 

Minutes later, Steve pulled a cassette from the shelf, turning it in his hands before handing it to you. 

“Thought you might like this,” he said lightly, but the brief glance he shot you felt careful. 

You blinked at the tape, U2, With or Without You. “You… thought of me?” You asked, a smile tugging at your lips despite yourself. 

Steve handed you the cassette with a slight smile, the edges of the packaging worn from his own handling. “Yeah, it’s cool,” he said softly, his tone almost secretive, like there was something more to the song that he was letting on. 

You looked at him, confused for a moment. “Why this one?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. 

He just nodded, urging you to take the cassette. “Trust me.” 

You hesitated, but his earnestness nudged you. You accepted the cassette, but before you could even think of putting it in your bag, he pulled out a walkman from his jacket pocket, holding it out to you. 

“Here,” he said, his fingers brushing yours for a second as he handed it over. He seemed a little more nervous now, his usual confident demeanor slipping just a fraction. 

Curious, you took the small device from him. He stepped closer, just enough to close the space between you two, and carefully settled the headphones over your ears. His breath brushed against your cheek for a moment, warm and unexpectedly intimate in the quiet of the store. You felt the familiar stir of something unspoken. 

The moment you pressed play, the soft opening chords of “With or Without You” began to fill your ears. It hit you that this was the kind of music that perfectly captured how everything about being near Steve felt, like you were floating. The lyrics, soft but intense, wrapped around you like a memory you weren’t ready to name yet.

You didn’t pull away from the walkman, letting the music play out, but your mind kept drifting back to look in Steve’s eyes. The way he was watching you now, slightly vulnerable. It wasn’t just the song. It was everything about the moment, the way he handed it to you, the way his fingers brushed yours, the way you didn’t want to move. Your eyes kept flicking to his lips, and your mind couldn’t stop reminding you how perfect he looked right here, in this exact moment, near you, with you. 

He stepped back a little, watching you. “Well?” he asked, his voice quiet. 

You didn’t know how to answer. The music spoke for you, and for once, you didn’t need words. Was he trying to send you a message through it? 

You swallowed, suddenly aware of how close he felt. “It’s…” you stared at him, your cheeks warming. 

When Nancy’s voice echoed from the clothing store, calling for you, your stomach twisted with guilt and a strange, bittersweet ache. You had already crossed a line in your mind, and the thought made your heart race. Steve sighed, pulling the headphones out, avoiding your gaze as he turned and walked away. He joined Nancy in a gentle embrace. You watched them, wondering if it was all in your head. Had you read between lines that weren’t even there? 

Even after you left the store and walked back to the car, the cassette still in your bag, you couldn’t stop replaying that quiet stretch of time: the proximity, the lingering glances, the way he made you feel. What was going on? 

3.

The phone rang just after ten, sharp against the quiet hum of your house. You picked it up, expecting your best friend, but instead, it was him. 

“Hey… she’s not answering,” he said, voice a little rough, like he’d been up too late thinking. There was a distant noise in the background, faint street sounds, maybe the neighbor’s dog barking in the yard. 

“Oh, ok,” you murmured, pressing the receiver to your ear. 

“Mind if I stay on the line for a bit? Just… talk?” His tone was casual, but there was something underneath it. 

You hesitated for a moment, then said softly, “Sure.” 

At first, the conversation was light. School, homework, the weather. But soon, it shifted into more personal territory. He asked about your plans for the future, and you found yourself speaking in a way you hadn’t before. You had always been so guarded, but now, in the quiet of the phone call, it felt easier to open up. 

He seemed to listen to everything, about the classes you loved, your dream to travel, the things you wanted to leave behind. But then, almost out of nowhere, his voice dropped a little, and he said, 

“You know, I’ve been thinking… I really like talking to you. It’s just… with her, it’s hard sometimes.” 

You frowned, not sure what he meant at first. “With Nancy?” 

“Yeah,” he said with a soft laugh, a little nervous. “She’s… she got everything figured out, you know? She knows exactly what she wants. She’s all about studies, college, plans.” His voice softened, like he was admitting something he hadn’t before. “Me? I can barely get through the week without feeling like I’m just… floating. I don’t even know what I’m doing tomorrow, let alone five years from now.” 

Your chest tightened. You could hear the quiet vulnerability in his words, the weight of the uncertainty he carried. “But you’re not… I mean, you’re not just floating,” you said quickly “You’re figuring it out. It’s not a race, you know.” 

He was silent for a beat, then sighed. “Yeah, maybe. But sometimes I wonder if I’m good enough for her. She’s got everything planned, she’s smart, she knows where she’s going. I’m just trying to go with the flow… and sometimes I think she deserves someone who has it all together.” 

There was a pause on the line, and you felt a sudden pang in your chest, a bittersweet ache. You realized, for the first time, how much he was struggling with the comparison between himself and Nancy, how much he worried about being “enough”. Steve, if only you knew how much more than enough you were for me… But I’m not her. 

You didn’t know what to say. You wanted to reassure him, to tell him he didn’t need to be perfect to be worth something. Even if, to you, he was perfect in every way. But the words wouldn’t come. Instead, you let the silence linger for a moment, absorbing the weight of what he had shared.

Eventually, the conversation drifted back to lighter things, shared memories, inside jokes, but even as you laughed, you sensed the way you fit together too easily, and it left a bitter taste in your mouth, because he wasn’t yours and never would be. 

“I… I’m glad you broke up with him,” he said quietly, after a long pause. “You deserve to be happy, Y/N.” 

Your breath caught in your throat, and for a second, you couldn’t speak. The breakup had been hard, devastating, you had never told anyone about the worst of it, the things he had done. He’d been abusive, manipulative. He’d left town in the end, but the scars stayed with you. 

“It…wasn’t easy,” you whispered. “I- If I ever got out of… him… it’s because of you.”

You swallowed, the memory of that night still sharp : the day he had caught your ex hitting you, stepping in without a second thought, and the long talk that had followed. That conversation had given you the courage, the courage to finally leave. 

“I don’t know what I would have done without you, Steve,” you whispered. 

You could hear him exhale softly, a quiet, almost involuntary sigh that lingered longer than a normal pause. 

“You’d have found your way, but I’m glad I was there,” he said finally, his voice gentle but carrying a weight you couldn’t place. “You can always count on me. You’re my friend, I’d never let anyone hurt you like that.”

For a second, you thought you heard a small catch in his tone, like he had held back something just for you, a fleeting hesitation that made your heart thrum in a strange, unfamiliar way. Then he laughed softly, almost to shake it off, and the conversation returned to its usual warmth. 

You talked for almost an hour, your voices comfortable in the quiet of the night. When you finally said goodnight, your chest felt heavy, but your heart was full in a way that scared you. 

You pressed the phone to your cheek, closing your eyes for a second, letting the quiet of the house settle around you. You realized that the feelings you’d been brushing aside, hoping they would fade, or that they weren’t as strong as they seemed, were only growing. What you’d once thought was affection for your knight in shining armor was starting to feel more like… love? 

4.

The cassette clicked when the song ended. Static hissed softly before the next track started, something slow, something romantic, like it was mocking you. The room smelled like cigarette smoke and cheap beer and the rain that had followed you all inside. It was late. It always was when things finally went wrong. You were at Steve’s place, lounging with your friends. Jonathan and Robin were bickering about which movie to pick, their voices rising over the low hum of the conversation. You sat on the couch, your purple dress falling over your tights, a beer in your hand, your fingers twirling your hair in a small, restless habit.

She was talking, Nancy, about something small. School, maybe. Or her brother. It didn’t matter. What mattered was the way her voice faltered, just a little, like she was embarrassed to need comfort over something so stupid. 

He noticed instantly. 

He always did. 

He turned toward her, full body, no hesitation. Black outfit, perfect hair, arms that could hold you steady. He was so pretty. His knee touched hers. His hand found her wrist, thumb pressing lightly where her pulse jumped. You knew that touch. You knew exactly how it felt, how it steadied you, how it told you without words that you were safe now, that nothing bad was going to happen while he was there. 

Your stomach dropped. 

You remembered sitting on the edge of your own bed months ago, knees pulled to your chest, shaking so hard your teeth rattled. You remembered his voice then, low and careful, like sudden movements might break you. You remembered thinking, stupidly, desperately, that maybe this was… love? That had to be. He was so gentle… 

Across the room, she exhaled. She leaned into him without even looking, like she had done it a hundred times already. 

And he let her.

Something hot and poisonous curled in your chest. Jealousy, sharp enough to make you nauseous. You hated it. You hated yourself for it. She was your best friend. She had held your hair back when you were sick with fear. She had never once asked you why you stayed so long with him. She had never once said I told you so. She’d always been there for you, but now, all you could think about was how much you wished her boyfriend would stand up and claim you, right there, in front of everyone.

He smiled at her, not wide, not performative. Just soft. Private. The kind of smile you only gave when you were already in love and didn’t even realize you were showing it yet. His thumb brushed over her skin again, absentminded, intimate. Possessive. They were in their own little world.

A small laugh slipped from you, barely there, as you realized how much you’d been avoiding the truth.  

What you had hadn’t been the beginning of something, it had been the aftermath of something terrible. He hadn’t chosen you. He had caught you when you were falling apart. He had stayed because you were bleeding, and he was the kind of man who didn't walk away from broken things.

You felt stupid for ever believing otherwise. For thinking the way he had looked at you, careful, concerned, endlessly patient, meant you were special. You were just delusional. 

You swallowed hard. Your hands were clenched in your lap, nails biting into your palms, grounding you in a way he no longer would. The room felt too small. Too loud. Every laugh they shared sounded like a door closing. 

He didn’t love you. 

You imagined a future you weren’t in. Him as the perfect husband, knowing her coffee order by heart, dropping her off with a passionate kiss, wrapping her with love. He was the perfect father always at their kids’ competitions, cheering them, while you watched from the sidelines, smiling, pretending this didn’t hollow you out. 

He wasn’t looking at her the way he had looked at you. He wasn’t doing it to protect her. He was doing it because he wanted to. 

No, he didn’t love you.

You were just the girl he saved from drowning. Just a friend. 

You were never meant to be anything more. 

The thought stung, sharp, like glass breaking in your chest. 

You wished you hadn’t needed saving. Because maybe, just maybe, if you hadn’t been so broken when he found you, he might’ve seen you the way he saw her now.  

But he didn’t.

He was looking at her. He was touching her. He was choosing her. And the worst part? You couldn’t stop it. You couldn’t stop the way your heart was shattering just watching him love her in all the ways he never could with you. 

You caught her watching you from across the room, her eyes piercing through the walls you’d built up. Robin always knew. She was the kind of person who could see right through anyone, and right now, she saw all of it. She saw the chaos inside you, the ache that twisted in your gut, the feelings you couldn’t suppress. Her look wasn't pity, it was sympathy. Understanding. It made you feel so exposed and stupid. You quickly dropped your gaze, desperate to shield yourself from her silent accusation, even though you knew she wasn’t judging. 

Your vision blurred, a scream building inside you that you couldn't release. You’d never be his. No matter how different he was from her, no matter how many arguments they had, he loved her. And that was something you could never change. 

You were stuck, trapped between what you felt and what you knew you had to do. Part of you wanted to keep them both, wanted to hold on to the fragile thread of your friendship with her, to keep being near him, even if it meant torturing yourself every time you saw him with her. But deep down, you knew that staying in this place was only hurting you. Watching the man you loved, knowing he would never be yours, was like slowly suffocating. You were lost, unsure of what to do, because the longer you stayed, the more you were drowning in your own feelings.

5.

The bleachers were empty, the late-afternoon sun low and warm across the field. You climbed to sit beside him, metal scraping beneath your sneakers, heart hammering so hard it felt like it might burst. You were wearing a blue sundress, light and cute, the kind that made you feel soft even when everything else hurt. It was strange how something so ordinary, something you’d shared with him every day after school, had grown heavy and complicated now that you understood what you were really feeling. 

You stared down at your hands, clenching and unclenching, trying to steady your racing heart. You had to tell him. Even if it broke you, even if it changed nothing. You couldn’t spend your life wondering. You tried to ignore it, tried to push it away. You told yourself it was just loneliness, just envy at the sight of them together. But the truth pressed anyway : you weren’t jealous of them. You were jealous of her, because she had him.

Steve shifted beside you, hair falling just right over his forehead, yellow sleeves pulled tight over his arms. He was so close, and yet so impossibly distant, because everything you felt was locked inside.  

“She’s the one,” he said suddenly, casually, as if the words weren’t knives in your chest. “I want… kids, a house, the whole thing someday.” 

You froze. The sunlight glinted off his hair, and every detail of him. The curve of his jaw, the tilt of his head, the warmth in his eyes when he smiled at the thought. You wanted to speak, to shove the truth out of your chest, but your throat closed. 

He turned to you, grinning, mischief in his eyes. “And hey, you’d better play at the wedding,” he added, nudging you playfully. “You’re the best at piano.”

Your fingers slackened on the bleachers, the realization hitting you in a wave : you couldn't speak. You couldn’t tell him, not now, maybe never, because he was happy with someone else and you had no right to take that from him. You forced yourself to smile faintly, the world tilting slightly around you. 

“Of course,” you whispered, voice barely audible “I’d… I’d love to.” 

He frowned, tilting his head, but didn’t press. Then his lips quirked into that small, almost boyish smile, the one that made your stomach twist with a mix of longing and despair. 

“Eddie asked about you today,” he said, voice low, almost shy, “I think he likes you,” he laughed, a little uncertain, “I don’t know why, but I… don’t like it.” 

Your chest twisted. His words, innocent, protective, faintly jealous, were both a balm and a knife. Why did you have to make it so complicated, Steve? You were meant to be grateful that he cared, and yet it hurt like hell, because the way he looked at her, not you, was always sharper, softer, untouchable in a way you could never reach. 

“Steve!!” Nancy called his name, and his eyes lit up instantly, warm and unmistakable, like loving her was the easiest thing he’d ever done. 

You forced yourself to look at him : the way he met her by the bleachers, the careful way his hand rested at her waist before he kissed her softly, whispering sweet nothings meant for her alone. 

You wanted to step closer, to tell him that he could love you too, that you’d wait, that you’d be everything he didn't know he wanted but you couldn’t. You wouldn’t. Not after everything you’d seen, not after seeing how he looked at her. You had no right. 

So you stayed quiet. You swallowed the words back down, letting them die in your chest. You didn’t want to ruin what they had. You didn't want to hurt anyone. 

“Y/N ! You’re coming?” he called from the bleachers below. 

Why did his voice feel like a shard of glass in your ribs? 

Yeah, I’m coming. It doesn’t matter that I love you, Steve. I’ll just keep it to myself. I’ll watch you be happy with someone else because you deserve it. Hell, it hurts, but I think I love you more than I love myself. And it’s ok. It has to be ok. I can handle it. You wanted to scream it out…

Instead, you nodded, your voice faltering slightly as you spoke, betraying the weight of everything you couldn’t say. 

Now wasn’t the time, and it felt like it never would be.

a/n : Um... I don’t know? Feedback is always welcome (likes or reblogs too ofc) TYSM for reading, kisses baby 💕

“Fucking asshole,” you grumble, digging through the organized mess on his desk. Face pulled tight with barely concealed anger, you finally find your wired earbuds underneath a pile of papers.

You bunch them up in your hand and shove them into your pocket with a grunt. This is the third time he’s taken something from you without asking, just this week. First, it was your favorite pen. Then it was the new toothpaste you bought. It’s a new habit he’s developed, on top of his already annoying ones. Like not closing cabinets. Like eating all of your snacks and leaving the empty boxes filled with nothing but crumbs. 

Really, you never wanted a roommate. When you moved into your apartment, you finally felt free, finally felt like you could feel comfortable in your own space without the nuisance of other people. But your landlord got greedy. Upped the rent without warning.

And of course, he insisted that his nephew would be a good roommate. Would be able to split the cost with you. Sure, you could’ve turned him down. Could’ve begged him to let you handpick your roommate. But he never told you what an annoying fucking prick he is.

Two years living with him has felt like an entire lifetime.

“What are you doing in my room?”

Immediately, you spin around, heart plummeting, banging against your ribs violently. You jolt so hard that your hip slams into the desk painfully. “Jesus!”

“Chill, Princess.”

Steve’s leaning against the doorframe, one shoulder braced on the wood, blocking half of it. The hallway light spills in behind him, casting his body in shadow, outlining the broad slope of his shoulders and the messy curl of his hair. 

He’s wearing an old, washed-out tee, the light grey fabric stretching across his torso. His legs are covered in dark denim that hugs the muscles in his thighs in a way you absolutely refuse to acknowledge. You grind your teeth together at the sight, fingernails digging into your palms so hard you’re sure they’re leaving dents.

“Don’t call me that,” you snap, teeth clenching.

Steve holds his hands up in defense and steps further into his room. “Sorry, is your highness better?

“Shut the fuck up,” you grunt, pushing past him, your shoulder checking into his.

At the contact, he stumbles back slightly, a low chuckle rumbling his chest. “What crawled up your ass today?” He asks, following after you like a lost puppy. More like a rodent. “Seriously.”

“You did!” You yell over your shoulder, plopping down on the couch. As you sink into the cushions, you hope the tension will bleed from your body. All you want is to relax, to enjoy the rest of your weekend in peace. Leaning forward, you pick up the remote and flick on the TV, some old romcom playing. Like the world is openly mocking you.

To your dismay, Steve slides in front of your view, his hands on his hips. “What did I do now?” It takes everything in your body not to lunge up and yell in his face, to list off every single thing he does that drives you up a wall. But you don’t. Instead, you lean to the side, looking past his hip to glare at the TV screen. Noticing your shift, Steve steps to the side.

Anger tears through your veins, your teeth sinking down on the inside of your cheek. Your eyes snap up to his, chest heaving with barely concealed rage. “What do you think?” You breathe out, digging into your pocket and holding up your headphones.

Steve raises an eyebrow, tilting his head like he has no clue. “What? I made sure they didn’t get tangled this time.”

A soft puff of air comes out of your nostrils like a bull. “You took them.”

“Uh-huh?” 

“Without asking, asshole!”

He just rolls his eyes, his hands dropping to his sides. “Okay? You take my sweatshirts all the time.”

An embarrassing heat creeps up your neck at the memory. You shake your head, as if you can shake the redness from your face. “That was once, and it was an accident! I thought it was mine!”

“My clothes are like, three sizes bigger than yours!” Steve crosses his arms across his chest, biceps bulging with the motion.

Slowly, you cross your arms too, mirroring his body language. “Leave me alone, Harrington. I’m seriously not in the fucking mood.”

“Yeah, I can tell. God, you’re so uptight all the time,” he says, flopping down on the couch next to you, taking out his phone. “You need to get laid.”

What?

Your head snaps over to him, your face heating up. You tell yourself it’s only from the pure anger coursing through your entire body. “Excuse me?” 

“What? I’m serious. Maybe it’ll help you relax.”

At the sheer amount of audacity he’s throwing your way, you scoff. “What will help me relax is you leaving me alone and not stealing my fucking shit!”

“Mm. How long has it been?” He asks, not even looking up from his phone. The blank expression on his tilted-down face makes you want to send your knuckles into his jaw. 

“That is absolutely none of your business!”

“A month? A year? What’s the deal, Princess?” He asks, a video playing low on his phone, as if this is such an everyday conversation. It just pisses you off even more.

“Fuck you,” you growl.

“Sorry, I’m not offering. You’re not my type,” he mumbles, smirking lazily up at you, his eyes finally flicking up.

God, if only you could strangle him. 

Your teeth grind together, your nails digging into the meat of your bicep. The sharp sting is the only thing grounding you enough not to lunge across the couch and do just that. “Leave me alone.”

Steve just lounges back, his legs spreading, taking up even more unnecessary space. You jolt your leg back like his skin is acid when his thigh brushes yours. A low beep sounds from the device in his hands, a low vibrating following. “Ah, shit,” he mumbles. “Could I borrow a charger?”

Your jaw almost drops at his audacity. Instead, you keep your face pulled tight, trying not to let him burrow into your skin even more than he already has. “Absolutely not.”

“Please? I asked this time,” he offers, smiling like a proud kindergartener. He knows how much it pisses you off, knows exactly how to get under your skin. “Please?”

“If I say yes, will you go into your room and leave me the fuck alone?”

Seemingly considering it for a second, Steve just shrugs. “Fine. Where is it?” He asks, already rising off the couch. As soon as he stands up, the tension already melts from you. The further he is, the happier you know you’ll be. 

If you have to sacrifice an extra charger, so be it.

“Top drawer, next to my bed,” you wave him off, focusing back on the TV. You grunt, realizing you’ve missed three entire scenes. As you pick up the remote to rewind the movie, Steve shuffles away, lowly whistling some tune you don’t recognize. 

After a few moments, you hear the familiar screeching of your old drawer. The same one you have to open slowly at night, careful not to wake him up. All the color drains from your face as you suddenly remember why you only open that drawer at night. 

Quickly, you bolt up off the couch, socks sliding on the hardwood floor as you beeline toward your room. “Wait! Steve, hold on-” You skid to a stop in front of your door, stumbling slightly as your socks slip from beneath you.

You hold onto the doorframe, chest rising and falling like you just ran a marathon. Your stomach drops to your feet once your eyes settle on him. He’s standing next to your bed, a large grey object in his hand. 

Your vibrator.

His face is painted in shock, his lips pulled into a wide smile. “Princess, what is this?” He asks innocently, waving it around tauntingly. Laughter bubbles from his chest, too warm and bright for this situation. 

Every part of your body is set on fire, humiliation building so quickly within you it almost makes you dizzy. “Steve, put that down!” You yell.

Steve just laughs even harder, promptly ignoring your demands. “No way. This is too good. Jesus, how many settings does this thing have?” He asks, tilting his head as he runs his thumb down the base of it. Slowly, he pushes one of the buttons, a low buzzing filling the room. “Oh, wow.”

“Stop it!” You stomp into the room, your voice shaking pathetically. It just adds to your embarrassment, to the pure anger ripping through your entire body.

His thumb finds another button, and the speed increases, the sound of the buzzing nearly matching the volume of the blood pumping into your ears. “Do you use it every night? How hard does it make you-” his taunts get cut off when you lunge forward, attempting to tear it from his hands. He just laughs, holding it high above his head, just out of your reach.

You jump up to grab it, growling when he dodges out of the way with another laugh. “I’m serious! Stop being such a dick!” Again, you jump forward, your fingertips just brushing the toy. At the contact, he almost trips over his own feet, stumbling backward. 

“I can’t believe you have one of these, princess! Is this why you’re always so-” His words are interrupted again when you jump up and try to climb him to get it back. It almost slips from his hand, and he readjusts his grip. “Whoa!”

His feet slip out from under him when you advance on him again, your body colliding with his as hands shoot out to grab onto you. You both fall backwards, Steve landing with a loud grunt as his back slams on your carpeted floor. 

You land on top of him in a heap, both of you a tangle of limbs. The vibrator still buzzes loudly in his hand between you two. Slowly, in a daze, you pull up, your eyes narrowing at him. He meets your eyes, deep honey pools staring up at you. Coffee strands fall over his eyebrows, his pink lips slightly parted. 

“Give it back, Harrington.”

“Make me,” he says lowly, thinking you’re too embarrassed to make much of a scene. His thumb presses down on the button again, the speed increasing. He holds it between your chests mockingly, knowing you can feel the buzzing through your shirt.

With a downward twitch of your lips, you tug at the toy, giving him a warning glance. In response, his grip tightens, fingers brushing against yours as you both fight for control. “You know, you could just ask me to help you with this thing,” he says lowly, a wicked grin spreading across his face. Slowly, his eyes flick to your lips. 

Although you know he’s just teasing, only trying to get under your skin, your heart thuds harder against your ribcage. Your grip on the toy tightens, and you find the off button. It clicks off, the low buzzing ceasing. The only sound between you is his low breathing and the pounding of your heart in your chest. With a triumphant smile, you tear it from his hand. 

Just as you’re about to climb off of him, you feel something shift against your thigh. Hard. Firm. At first, you think it might just be the hard muscle of his thigh. But as you readjust, and you see the tick of his jaw, you realize exactly what it is.

“Are you…” Steve swallows hard, realizing how easily you can feel his growing erection all the way through his jeans. But, he doesn’t move away. Instead, his hips gently move up into the plush skin of your thigh. “Maybe,” he admits, his voice lowering. 

“You’re a pervert,” you mumble, though no venom laces your voice. Just like you wanted, you take back the toy, rolling off of him.

He sits up, watching you with a smirk. “You’re the one who jumped on me,” he says defensively. As you stand up, he adjusts himself discreetly, clearing his throat when you notice. “And for the record…”

“Shut up,” you suddenly snap, swallowing the lump of anger in your throat. Instead, it twists into something darker. Deeper. 

It’s like someone has flicked a light switch deep within you, turning two years of pure rage into a storm of emotions in your stomach, twisting deep and ugly. You want to see that smirk wiped off his face, want him to be putty in your hands. 

“You don’t even know what I was going to say,” he smirks, watching your expression shift. 

With a soft breath out, you grind your teeth together. “Sit down.”

His smile falters slightly at your sudden assertiveness. Steve raises an eyebrow, slightly intrigued. “What?” He crosses his arms, not making any motions toward the bed. “This an invite, princess? Because if so, I’m gonna need a real-”

Quickly, he stops talking when you hold up the vibrator in your hand. You’re eyeing him with a dangerous look he’s never seen in his life. The slow movement of his throat causes the fire within you to blaze even brighter. “On the bed. Now.”

Adams's apple bobbing as he swallows hard, his smirk fades completely. Slowly, he walks to the edge of the mattress, watching you warily. You can just about hear how hard his heart is pounding in his chest. A smile spreads on your face when he spreads his legs slightly without thinking, giving himself room. An action that previously made you want to rip all your hair out. Now, it’s nothing but convenient.

Shuffling over to him, you lean in close, your faces inches apart. Your eyes drag up and down his face, scanning each crease. Up close, you can admit how pretty he is. Freckles and moles dot his face like twinkling stars in the night, soft brown hairs grown above the curve of his top lip. Stubble lines the sharp curve of his jaw, enticing you to drag your lips down it. A light pink is crawling its way onto his cheeks and the tips of his ears. The wide, innocent look in his eyes is nothing but endearing, deep pools of honey staring up at you.

“You know, I think it’s time you got knocked down a peg, Steve,” you purr, your breath hot against his ear.

A shiver goes down his spine as the vibrator hums to life between you two, a low buzzing reverberating through your ribs. Steve looks up at you, conflicted between cocky and nervous. Leaning back slightly, his hands fist your bed sheets. “You wouldn’t-” he starts, but his voice cracks. Softly, he clears his throat, shaking his head as if it’ll stop the tremble of his words. You press the vibrator dangerously close to his crotch, the head just barely teasing the denim. “Princess, come on.”

Against his objections, you lean in closer, pressing the toy against the seam of his jeans. Inhaling sharply, his hands grip the bedspread tighter. “Fuck-” he huffs out, hips jerking involuntarily against the buzzing plastic. The pretty rose on his cheeks darkens, and his lips part. “Stop playing,” he says, but his voice is strained. Despite his words, his legs spread even wider. “You wouldn’t.”

With a smile and an innocent bat of your eyelashes, you turn it up a setting, pressing it even firmer. “Not so cocky now, huh, princess?” You mock.

His mouth falls open in a silent ‘o’ as the vibrator presses firmer against his hard length, his arousal undeniable with the denim stretching tight. Steve squirms slightly, very obviously trying to hold back a groan. “Fuck,” he whispers, biting his lip hard. Looking up at you, his eyes are wide with embarrassment.

“You’ve never used one of these, huh?” You tease, seeing it written all over his face.

“N-no, of course not,” he stammers, hips twitching against the vibration. His hands are fisted into the bedsheets, knuckles turning white. “I don’t- I don’t need one. I’m a guy, we don’t-” He cuts himself off with a choked sound once you adjust the angle, pressing the buzzing directly against the most sensitive part of him. “Oh, my god.”

You laugh mockingly as you watch a small patch of the denim darken with pre-cum. “You like that, don’t you?”

Steve doesn’t respond, his chest heaving. He follows your line of sight, groaning once he notices the dampness that has soaked through his briefs. Slowly, you sink to your knees, taking the toy off for just a moment. He looks down at you with glazed-over eyes once you begin to fiddle with the buttons. Eyebrows raise as you drag his zipper down, the sound echoing off the walls in the silent room.

He says your name, a low pathetic whine, followed by “what the fuck?” 

Once you tug at his jeans, he lifts his hips to help you, revealing tight black briefs. The fabric leaves nothing to the imagination, pulled tight against the curve of his erection. Slipping your thumbs into his waistband, you tug them down his thighs. His dick springs free, hitting the soft curve of his tummy through his tee. It twitches in the cool air, the tip flushed a pretty pink.

Although this is meant to put a hit on his ego, you’re only human. So, you can’t blame yourself for taking a moment to rake your eyes down what your roommate is working with. A trimmed patch of dark hair sits at the base of him, stretching up the small strip of skin at his stomach where his shirt has ridden up. A long vein runs along the side of him, a drop of pre-cum trailing down it.

And, unfortunately, he’s big. Certainly more so than any partners you’ve had in the past. Girthy, too, which causes a thought to fly through your head. Quickly, you push it away, taking a deep breath.

“No wonder you’re so cocky,” you whisper, wrapping your fingers around the base of him with one hand, the other wrapping around the toy again. Firmly, you press it against the underside of his shaft, right under the head.

At the contact, he gasps sharply, hips lifting off the mattress. “Oh, fuck,” he groans, hands flying to your hair. He doesn’t push you away, just grips the strands desperately, nails scratching against your scalp softly. “Jesus Christ, your-” His dick twitches against the toy, his whole body already trembling, despite the low setting. His mouth opens in another silent moan.

Eyes flicking up, you press it harder against him. “I’m what? Hm? Keep talking.”

“You’re not- You’re not supposed to-” Steve can’t form words, his hips bucking shallowly into your hand and the vibrator. Eyes roll back slightly, his face flushing a deep red. “This is- I’m supposed to be the one making you, ah-” a choked moan leaves his lips. 

With a laugh, you turn it up a setting, smirking in triumph when he whimpers. “You’re supposed to be making me feel good?” You finish his thought. “How long have you wanted to do that? Huh?”

His eyes widen as he realizes what he said, his thighs shaking at the increased stimulation. “I was just…”

“Tell me, Steve,” you urge, eyes flicking up to his. Without warning, you flick it up a setting, the buzzing getting quicker, louder. In response, he whimpers through clenched teeth, eyebrows furrowing.

“A year,” he murmurs, throwing his head back, revealing the expanse of moles to your gaze. You try and fail to keep the emotion on your face at bay, a soft heat crawling up your own face. Never once, in your two years of living with him, had you thought he’d have those sorts of feelings toward you.

Desperate to hide the shift of your face, you rise slightly, dragging your lips across his fluttering pulse. The position is less than comfortable, so you sit down next to him on the mattress, turning your body toward him, attacking his tanned skin again. 

“A year, huh?” You repeat softly, watching how purple blooms beneath his skin where your teeth just were.

Once you’re next to him, his hands fall back to the bedspread, fingers tightening around the sheets. You swipe your tongue out, tasting sweat and the remnants of his cologne that you’ll never admit you love so much. His dick jumps against the toy, pulling another whine from his throat.

“Three more,” you whisper against his skin. “Three… What?” Steve murmurs, his eyes widening. You pull back, dragging the toy in circles, causing his hips to jerk up again.

“Settings,” you whisper, turning it up again.

Breath hitching hard, his knuckles begin to turn white against the bedspread. Steve moans loudly, the noise going straight toward your core. You’ve never heard a man make those kinds of noises before, no matter how good you know he was feeling. You especially never thought Steve Harrington would make those kinds of noises.

“Baby, I can’t, I can’t take more,” he whines out, turning and pressing his forehead against yours. Mint fans across your lips as he pants, his eyes squeezing shut, long eyelashes casting shadows across his cheeks.

The nickname spurs you on even more, and you turn it up even higher, the plastic vibrating harder against your palm. “Shh, yes, you can,” you urge. 

Turning his head, he looks down at his lap, jaw hanging open as more pretty moans leave his throat. He looks down in awe, as if he can’t believe this is happening. If you’re honest, neither can you. But you definitely don’t hate that it is.

Pre-cum leaks in a steady stream down his shaft, seemingly never-ending. It drips down your knuckles from where your fingers are wrapped around his base, enticing you to drag your fist up and down slowly. The added stimulation pulls louder whimpers from his lips, loud enough to make you worry about your neighbors.

“Come on, where’s that bold Steve gone?” You tease.

“He’s-” Steve gasps, back arching as the stronger vibrations reverberate through his entire body, the muscles in his thighs tightening. His hips are bucking erratically now, completely losing control. “He’s dying right now, oh god,” he moans pathetically. “Please, please,” he begins to babble incoherently, completely at your mercy.

Your name falls from his lips, repeating over and over like a mantra, a prayer. “Please what, baby? Please turn it up?” Seemingly too embarrassed to say the words, Steve nods, a few strands of hair plastering to his forehead. With a tut, you shake your head, smoothing back the strands. “Use your words, tell me what you need.”

“Please, turn it up, please,” he begs, honey eyes brimming with tears. 

“Good boy,” you praise, the words surprising both of you. He whimpers, hips bucking into both your palm and the toy. At his request, you turn it up two more clicks, the settings maxed. Further than you’ve ever been able to handle.

His whole body goes rigid, a strangled groan escaping his lips as shockwaves of pleasure rip through his body. Eyes rolling back completely, his dick twitches sporadically against the buzzing. “I’m… fuck, I’m gonna-”

“Not yet,” you murmur, kissing his jaw sweetly, contrasting with how rough you’re being with him.

At your words, he whimpers, body trembling so hard you’d almost be concerned. You can tell he’s just teetering on the edge of orgasm, but holding back somehow. Sweat beads on his forehead, trailing down his temple. “Fuck you,” he chokes out, but there’s no heat in it, only desperation. 

You laugh in surprise, raising an eyebrow. A soft whine, comparable to a kicked puppy, leaves his lips once you take the toy away. His eyes snap open, lips parting. Surprise flashes across his features, more tears brimming at his waterline. “Don’t talk to me like that, and I might let you cum.”

“I’m sorry,” he spits out immediately, voice breaking. “I’m sorry, please, please, I can’t take it.” His voice is hoarse, whiny.

“Hm,” you hum, tilting your head at him. His lower lip trembles, and you take the hand that’s still wrapped around his shaft away, instead dragging your knuckles against the pink skin. Gently, despite his state, he presses his lips against your skin, eyes pleading.

His hips grind up uselessly against nothing, a hand leaving the bed sheets. He wraps his fingers around your wrist, thumb brushing against your pulse point. “Please, baby, I’m sorry. I’ll be good, I promise. I won’t steal from you, I’ll close the cabinets, fold the laundry.” 

A soft smile twitches at your lips before you can stop it. “Will you stop stealing my snacks, too?” Nodding quickly, he kisses each knuckle again, his lips searing into your skin. “Never again.”

“Promise?” “I promise,” he whines again, blinking at you.

“Okay, fine,” you shrug, as if he’s not affecting you at all. In reality, it’s quite the opposite. It took the same effort on your part to take the toy away as it did for him to plead with you, if not more. Slowly, you press the vibrator right against the most sensitive part of him, his hips jolting at the shock.

It only takes a few more moments for him to throw his head back, for more pleas to leave his mouth. Except, this time, he doesn’t wait for you to answer. He cries out, body convulsing as he cums harder than he ever has in his life. White ropes shoot across the revealed skin of his stomach, some landing on his tee. 

Before his whines can get even louder, you smash your lips against his, muffling his increasing whimpers. His tongue slides against yours, his fingers tangling into your hair as he presses you firmer against him. Once you’re sure he’s thoroughly wrecked, you flick off the toy, leaning over to place it on your nightstand.

Steve collapses against the mattress, his dick still twitching slightly, oversensitized from the intense orgasm you just gave him. He looks up at you with glazed-over eyes, a drop that could either be sweat or a tear sliding down his temple. Chest still heaving, he attempts to catch his breath. “Fucking hell,” he breathes out.

You go to the bathroom for a moment, bringing back a box of tissues. Gently, you clean up his release from his tummy, bringing even more scarlet to his cheeks. Crumpling up the tissue, you toss it in the trashcan next to your bed. Then, you sit with your legs folded beneath you next to him.

“How are you feeling?” You tease, placing your palm against his chest. Even through his tee, you can feel the rapid beating of his heart. Eyes rake down his torso, and a smile pulls at your lips as you watch the soft pudge of his stomach rise and fall with each deep breath.

“Like… Like you just broke me,” he says, managing a weak, shaky laugh. His larger hand covers yours against his chest, fingers intertwining. “I can’t feel my legs,” he whispers, looking at you with a dazed, adoring expression.

You smile down at him, gently pressing your lips against his. Slowly, you pull back, tilting your head. “You gonna be nice to me from now on?”

Nodding eagerly, he squeezes your hand gently. “I’ll be so fucking nice, princess, you’ll think I’m a different person.” The pad of his thumb traces circles on the back of your hand, the motion melting the ice walls you’ve put up in front of him. “I promise.”

“You know, if you pull the same shit again, I won’t stop next time.”

Steve shudders at your words, his thumb stopping its motions. “You’re a monster,” he breathes out, but there’s really no resistance in his words, just awe. “A beautiful, evil monster.”

Gently, you lower yourself next to him, propping yourself up on an elbow, peering down at him with a soft smile. He rolls onto his side to face you, one arm wrapping around your waist and pulling you closer weakly. Tired lips press against yours softly, his thumb stroking your jaw.

“How did you turn me into this?” He laughs softly.

“Into what? A pathetic puppy?” You tease, pushing his hair out of his eyes.

“Ha, ha,” Steve rolls his eyes. “You basically just turned me into your little bitch. Didn’t think you had it in you, really.” Your finger draws a pattern up his pec. “And I didn’t think you could make those noises,” you volley back with a shrug.

Embarrassment prickles at his face, his cheeks turning a bright scarlet. His eyes drop, as if he can’t even look at you.

“Hey, hey, no,” you say quickly, tilting his head back up. “Look at me,” you whisper, smiling once those familiar pools of honey find your gaze. “I liked it. Like, maybe too much. I’m happy I could make you feel that good.”

“Yeah?” He whispers.

“Mhm,” you hum. Slowly, a question comes back to the forefront of your mind. “Hey, did you mean it earlier? When you said you’ve wanted to do something like that for a year?”

Slowly, he nods, and you can tell he wants to look away again. But this time, he doesn’t, his gaze holding yours steady. “Maybe for even longer. And I don’t mean… You doing stuff like that to me. I wanted- I want to make you feel good. Better than any of those shitty exes I always hear you complain about.”

At his words, your lips part, the color in your face definitely matching his. You’ve never had anyone admit something like that to you without any ulterior motives, and the earnest expression on his face tells you that there are none. “Yeah?” “Yeah,” he nods, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Can I? Is that okay?”

“Please,” you whisper, completely forgetting your original motive behind doing this in the first place.

A smile spreads across his face as he rolls you onto your back, using an elbow to prop himself up next to you. His fingers slowly trail down your body, finding their way to your center quickly. Starting with gentle circles, he presses the pads of two fingers against your clit through your shorts. “Like this?” he asks, although you know he can tell by the hitch of your breath.

Nodding, you close your eyes gently, a soft whimper leaving your lips. “Mhm.”

Fingers work against you slowly, deliberately, taking their time to explore what feels good. He’s in no rush, completely content in allowing you to feel each movement, each shift. “So pretty,” he whispers, learning you, memorizing your body language. 

A soft breath leaves your lips as he applies more pressure, your legs spreading open for him. He watches your face carefully, adjusting his pressure and speed based on your reactions. When you bite your lip, he focuses on that spot, knowing it's going to drive you crazy. “Look at you, so cute.”

Slowly, his fingers slip underneath your waistband, sliding under your panties. “This okay?”

You nod enthusiastically, moaning once his fingers brush your clit, this time with no barrier. Steve picks up the pace just slightly, pressing a little harder. Slowly, his fingers dip lower, the middle one teasing your entrance. “God, you’re so wet, all for me?” He whispers, looking down at you in awe. “Makin’ me whine like that turned you on this much?”

All you can manage is a soft nod, followed by a whine once he presses the tip of his finger into you, sliding it against your walls. Working you slowly, he sinks it in even deeper, down to his knuckle. Despite only having one finger curled within you, the thick digit is already stretching you open. 

“Gonna put in another one, okay baby?” 

At your more than enthusiastic nod, he slides another one in, curling them with each shallow thrust. Burning ever so slightly with each movement. Easily, he finds that spongy part inside of you, the one that causes your back to arch off the mattress and stars to explode behind your eyes. Steve knows he has you right where he wants you when he feels your legs start to tremble against his forearm. “Come on, princess, let me hear you.”

He tears more desperate moans from your throat, which he promptly swallows when he leans over and presses his lips to yours. Pulling back, he rests his forehead against yours, breath mingling as you pant. “Feels s’good, Steve,” you whine, eyebrows furrowing.

Your back arches and your toes curl once the pad of his thumb presses against your clit, circling so expertly you can’t help but moan louder. He laughs softly, pressing against that spot within you firmer. Before you can process anything, that familiar feeling builds quickly within you, knocking the breath from your lungs.

Walls clench around his fingers, pulling another chuckle from his lips. “You close?” He asks, although you know he doesn’t need to.

Nodding quickly, you wrap your fingers around his wrist, needing something to ground you. Unlike you, he doesn’t stop, doesn’t even hesitate to pick up the speed, to curl his fingers even deeper with each thrust. 

“I won’t torture you, baby, waited too long for this,” he murmurs, pressing his lips against yours again, already addicted to the feeling.

It only takes a few more thrusts of his wrist, a few more circles of his thumb for you to cry out his name, for that tightness in your stomach to release. Shockwaves tear through your veins, every part of your body trembling with pleasure. His name is on your lips, repeating over and over like a broken record.

Steve doesn’t let up, riding you through your orgasm, only slowing down when tears prick your eyes from overstimulation. Slowly, he pulls his fingers out, apologizing gently when you wince at the loss. You watch with wide eyes as he holds up his fingers in front of you both, the skin glistening with your arousal.

Then, he does something that forces another groan from your lips. He wraps his lips around his fingers, cheeks hollowing around them as he tastes you. Eyes rolling back, he moans at the taste of you on his tongue.

“You’re going to kill me,” you whisper, pressing your thighs together once the dull throbbing sharpens.

He smirks around his fingers, taking them out of his mouth slowly, knowing exactly what he’s doing to you. Leaning down, he kisses you softly, allowing you to taste yourself on his lips. With a shaking hand, you slide your fingers through his hair, scraping your nails against his scalp gently.

“Steve?” You murmur, pulling back slowly.

“Yeah?” He whispers, thumb stroking your bottom lip.

“Sorry for… also being a bitch to you. I haven’t been the best roommate either.”

Lips twitching into a frown, he shakes his head, a cute pout falling onto his mouth. “I wouldn’t wanna live with me either, baby, you don’t have to apologize.”

“Hey, no,” you whisper earnestly, cupping his jaw, smiling once he leans into your touch. “I’m glad we’re roommates, Steve. I know I never show it, but I am. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Yeah?” He asks, voice cracking softly, as if he finds it hard to believe you.

“I promise. Except maybe when you steal my snacks,” you joke, leaning up to kiss him when he begins to protest. 

“I’m glad too, princess,” he murmurs against your lips, rolling onto his back and pulling your head against his chest.

As he wraps his arms around you, you think back to every moment with him. Every argument, every blowout. Despite your emotions, despite your previous words, they never did feel that serious. Never felt like they had any sort of venom or purpose behind them. It sort of felt like you were dancing around this unspoken thing, avoiding seeing past his annoying quirks just so you could dodge your feelings.

So really, it was never about him being a dick. About him stealing your shit, not closing cabinets, and leaving sweatshirts scattered around the living room for you to clean up and fold later.

At that thought, a previous argument pops to the forefront of your mind. With a deep breath, you nuzzle into his chest.

“I stole your sweatshirt on purpose,” you admit, wrapping your arm around his middle.

Steve laughs loudly, the sound warm and bright, rumbling against your ear. “I know. I left it out for you.”

the room was already too warm before joe even came out.

you could feel it in the air, that low buzzing kind of excitement that made everything louder than it should be. people pressed shoulder to shoulder, phones half-raised, the stage lights bleeding soft orange across the crowd. somewhere behind you someone kept shouting his name like he could hear them.

you told yourself you were normal about it. mostly.

you liked the music. that was the official reason you were here. the fact that the singer also happened to be joe keery was… secondary. technically.

the show had been going for a while now, long enough that the room smelled like spilled beer and sweat and cheap perfume. your ears were ringing a little, but you didn’t care. you were close to the barricade, which already felt like winning.

he finished the song with that half-smile he always did, pushing his hair back from his face as the crowd roared.

then he hopped down from the stage.

that was when things got chaotic.

security walked beside him as he moved slowly along the barricade, leaning down to high-five people, taking phones to snap blurry selfies, laughing at things fans yelled up at him. he looked a little flushed from performing, sleeves rolled up, still holding his guitar pick between his fingers.

you hadn’t really planned anything.

not exactly.

the polaroid had started as a joke between you and your friend while you were waiting in line outside the venue. you’d taken it hours ago, sitting on the curb, squinting into the sun. on the white border at the bottom you’d written your number with a marker, adding a small smiley face next to it.

you didn’t think you’d actually give it to him.

but now he was getting closer.

one fan down.

two.

someone next to you was practically crying.

joe kept moving along the barricade, relaxed and easy, like he had all the time in the world.

and then he was right in front of you.

up close he looked a little different than you expected, taller, for one thing. and his hair was messier than it ever looked online.

he glanced over, smiling automatically, hand already lifting for another quick high five.

instead, you held out the polaroid.

for a second he just blinked at it.

then he took it, turning it slightly so he could see the picture.

his eyebrows lifted.

you felt your face getting warm but tried to keep your expression neutral, like this was completely normal behavior.

“is this-” he looked back at you, amused already, "this your number?”

“maybe,” you said. “depends if you’re cool.”

he laughed, a real one, head tilting back a little, and glanced down at the polaroid again.

“this is bold” he said.

“i believe in efficiency.”

the people around you had started paying attention now, a few phones pointed in your direction. joe didn’t seem to notice. or maybe he just didn’t care.

he slid the polaroid into the back pocket of his jeans.

“well,” he said, grin lingering as he started moving down the barricade again, “i respect the confidence.”

then he was gone, swallowed up by the crowd again, already waving to the next group of fans.

your friend grabbed your arm immediately.

“did you just give joe keery your number on a polaroid?”

you stared at the place he’d been standing a second ago, heart still beating a little too fast.

“yeah,” you said.

and honestly?

you didn’t think about it again.

not until your phone lit up two days later with a text from a number you didn’t recognise.

your phone buzzed again while you were still staring at the picture he sent.

So what’s your name, polaroid girl

you huffed a quiet laugh, leaning back against the kitchen counter. the pizza in the microwave had long since finished beeping, forgotten.

polaroid girl.

it started small after that.

a few texts that night. then a few more the next day.

you half expected it to fizzle out quickly, like one of those random interactions that felt funny for a second and then quietly disappeared. but it didn’t. he was easy to talk to. way easier than you expected.

sometimes it was just stupid stuff, pictures of whatever city he’d woken up in, complaints about gas station coffee, random music recommendations. other times you’d end up texting for hours without really noticing.

somewhere along the way you told your friends.

that part… did not stay calm.

“you’re lying” one of them said immediately, staring at your phone.

“i’m not lying.”

“there’s no way joe keery is just casually texting you.”

you slid the phone across the table so they could see the conversation.

they read silently for about ten seconds before looking back up at you.

“oh my god.”

“i know.”

“oh my god.”

you groaned, grabbing the phone back. “can we please act normal about this?”

“no” they said instantly.

fair enough.

but the weird thing was, after the initial shock wore off, it didn’t really feel like texting a celebrity. it just felt like… texting joe. he asked questions. actual ones. about your job, your friends, what you liked doing when you weren’t at concerts handing out polaroids.

and you asked him things too, about touring, about music, about the random cities he kept bouncing between.

you just got along. like you’d known each other longer than a few weeks.

a couple weeks later your phone buzzed while you were at work.

you glanced at it during your break.

joe: Random question

joe: Will i see you at the show tonight?

you frowned a little at the screen.

tonight?

you’d completely forgotten he was coming back through your city.

ugh i wish you typed back.

im working late today

there was a short pause.

then-

joe: Worst news i’ve heard all day

you smiled a little at that.

yeah yeah

try to survive

the typing bubble appeared again.

then disappeared.

then came back.

joe: Wait

joe: Can i see you after?

you blinked at the message.

after the show?

joe: Yeah

joe: If you’re not too busy

yeah you typed after a second.

yeah you can

your shift ended later than usual.

by the time you pushed the door open and stepped outside the street was already dark, the air cool enough to make you pull your jacket tighter. you were halfway down the sidewalk before you noticed someone leaning against the brick wall across the street.

hands in his pockets.

messy hair.

familiar face.

you slowed down a little.

“…joe?”

he looked up, breaking into a quick grin when he saw you.

“hey.”

you walked closer, still a little surprised he was actually there.

“don’t you have like… a show you just played?”

“yeah.”

“and you’re just… standing outside my job?”

“well,” he shrugged slightly, “i said i wanted to see you.”

you couldn’t help smiling at that.

for a second neither of you moved, just standing there on the sidewalk like two people who’d somehow skipped straight past the normal introduction part.

“hi” you said finally.

“hi” he said back.

then he pushed off the wall.

“you walking home?”

“yeah. it’s not far.”

“mind if i walk with you?”

you shrugged casually. “sure.”

so you started down the street together.

it was weird at first. not bad-weird, just the kind where your brain was still catching up to the fact that the person you’d been texting for weeks was suddenly right there beside you.

he kept glancing around like he was checking the street.

“you hiding from fans or something?” you asked.

“a little,” he admitted. “also i don’t have a ton of time. we’re leaving tonight.”

“rockstar life.”

“tragic, i know.”

you walked in comfortable silence for a minute.

then you nudged him slightly with your elbow.

“so.”

he glanced over.

“get any new polaroids tonight?”

he laughed under his breath.

“no.”

“none?”

“none.”

you looked over at him suspiciously.

“really?”

he shook his head.

“even if i did,” he said, “i wouldn’t take it.”

“wow.”

“what?”

“polaroid girl replaced already”

he glanced at you again, a small smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.

“no,” he said. “i got you now.”

you tried to act normal about that.

failed a little.

“bold statement” you said instead.

“i believe in efficiency.”

you laughed quietly, recognising your own words.

your building came into view a minute later.

“this is me.”

he nodded, stopping with you.

for a second it got a little quieter again, that same strange pause from earlier.

but this time it felt easier.

joe rubbed the back of his neck lightly.

“i’m glad i came” he said.

“yeah?”

“yeah.” he glanced at you. “i’ve really liked getting to know you.”

you smiled a little.

“same.”

another small pause.

then-

“can i see you again soon?”

you raised an eyebrow.

“wow.”

“what?”

“you’re asking my permission now?”

he laughed softly.

you leaned back against the door for a second.

“yeah,” you said. “of course.”

his smile widened just a little.

“okay. good.”

neither of you moved right away.

finally you gestured toward the street.

“you should probably go before your band leaves without you.”

“probably.”

but he still lingered for another second before stepping back.

“goodnight, polaroid girl.”

you rolled your eyes, smiling.

“goodnight, joe.”

and as he walked away down the sidewalk, you had a feeling this probably wasn’t the last time he’d show up outside your work.

-

it wasn’t the last time he showed up outside your work.

not even close.

the next time he was back in the city, your phone buzzed sometime mid-afternoon.

joe: What time do you get off today

you stared at the message for a second before typing back.

why

joe: No reason

joe

joe: Okay fine

joe: Can i walk you home again?

you smiled to yourself before answering.

7:30

joe: See you then

and he did.

he was leaning against the same brick wall when you stepped outside, hands in his jacket pockets like he’d been there the whole time.

after that it just kept happening. whenever he was in the city, you’d get some variation of the same text.

What’s your schedule like today

or

Are you working tonight?

sometimes even just

Polaroid girl are you free after work?

and if you were, he’d show up.

it turned into a quiet little routine without either of you really talking about it. you’d leave work, and he’d be there somewhere nearby, pretending he hadn’t been standing around waiting for ten minutes already. then you’d walk home together.

sometimes you stopped for coffee. once you grabbed late-night takeout and ate it on the curb outside your building because everything else was closed. other nights you just wandered the long way back, talking about whatever came to mind.

tour stories, your coworkers, music you both liked. the dumbest possible things. it was weird how natural it felt. like you’d skipped straight past the awkward part people usually had when they were still getting to know each other.

your friends noticed it immediately.

“so… you and joe keery just take romantic walks now?” one of them asked one night.

“they’re not romantic.”

“he literally waits outside your job.”

“he’s just being nice.”

“he asks for your schedule.”

you tried to ignore them.

mostly because they were a little bit right.

you and joe started hanging out outside of the walks, too.

if he had a day off in the city, he’d text and ask if you wanted to grab coffee. sometimes you’d meet up before your shift instead, sitting in some random café while he tried to convince you that gas station coffee wasn’t that bad.

once he dragged you to a tiny record store he’d found because he “needed a second opinion.” another time you ended up wandering around a park for two hours because neither of you wanted to go home yet.

the walks were still your thing, though.

your little tradition.

and every time he left for another stretch of tour dates, the texts kept going.

random pictures, late-night conversations, voice messages when he was too tired to type. it was subtle at first, the shift.

the way your conversations started lasting longer. the way he’d remember small things you mentioned weeks ago. the way he’d look at you sometimes when you were talking, like he was trying to memorise something. like it meant something.

you weren’t really sure when it stopped feeling like two people casually texting and started feeling like something else.

but it did.

and neither of you had actually said it out loud yet.

but it was definitely starting to feel like the kind of thing that turned into a relationship if you weren’t careful.

not that either of you seemed in a hurry to stop it.

-

when joe left for south america, nothing really changed at first.

you were used to the distance part by now. touring meant different time zones, weird hours, the occasional day where one of you fell asleep before answering the other. it happened.

so when his texts slowed down a little, you didn’t think much of it.

the first day, you just assumed he was busy.

he’d told you they were traveling between cities, something about a long flight and then a drive out to some place where they were hiking before the next show.

you sent a quick message sometime in the afternoon.

hope the hike doesn’t kill you

no response.

later that night you sent another one.

did you survive

still nothing.

you went to bed thinking he’d answer in the morning.

he didn’t.

the next day you texted again.

you alive over there?

the message delivered.

but there was no typing bubble. no stupid joke about gas station coffee in another country. no blurry picture of whatever random place he’d woken up in.

by the end of the second day, it started feeling off.

you checked the conversation more times than you wanted to admit. reread old messages like maybe you’d missed something.

you tried to be normal about it.

he was busy. touring. different country. bad signal.

all very reasonable explanations.

still, by the third day, the quiet felt a little louder.

you typed out another message during your break at work.

hey. everything okay?

you stared at it for a second before hitting send.

the little delivered notification appeared underneath.

and that was it.

by that night, you stopped texting.

in some twisted way, you’d kind of expected it eventually. he was famous. his life was chaos and traveling and thousands of people in every city. you were just… some fan he met at a concert. someone who handed him a polaroid as a joke.

the whole thing had always felt a little too good to last.

you were sad about it.

more than you thought you would be.

but you also tried to be realistic. people got busy. people drifted away. things ended without a big explanation all the time.

so you told yourself that was probably what happened.

and eventually, the ache of it settled into something quieter. something you could ignore while you worked. something you could push aside when your friends asked if you’d heard from him lately.

you just shrugged and said he was probably busy. after a while, they stopped asking.

a week later you finished your shift and stepped outside into the cool night air.

you were halfway down the steps before you saw him.

at first your brain didn’t process it.

someone standing across the street near the brick wall, hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket, hair slightly messy like it always was.

you blinked.

then blinked again.

“…joe?”

his head snapped up immediately.

and the second he saw you he straightened, crossing the street so fast it almost looked like he’d jogged the last few steps.

“hi- okay- hi,” he said quickly, slightly out of breath.

you just stared at him.

your brain was still trying to catch up.

he ran a hand through his hair, already starting to ramble.

“i know this is going to sound like the worst excuse in the world, but i swear i’m serious- i lost my phone.”

you said nothing.

“like actually lost it,” he continued, words tumbling out too fast. “we were hiking and i had it in my jacket and then at some point it was just- gone. completely gone. i didn’t realise until later and by the time we went back it was- yeah.”

he gestured vaguely, clearly flustered.

“and i know it probably looked like i just stopped answering you,” he added quickly, “but i didn’t, i swear. i didn’t even have your number memorized or anything, which i should’ve, honestly-”

you were still just looking at him.

processing.

three days of silence.

and now he was standing in front of you talking so fast he was almost tripping over his own words.

joe hesitated when you didn’t respond.

his expression shifted slightly.

“i’m sorry,” he said, softer now. “i know it probably seemed like i just-”

you stepped forward and kissed his cheek. just a quick, simple press of your lips.

when you pulled back, he looked completely thrown off, like his brain had stopped working.

“i believe you” you said with a small smile.

his face flushed almost instantly.

“oh.”

he blinked.

“okay.”

there was a short pause.

then he looked at you again, a little nervous, a little hopeful.

“can i kiss you?”

you let out a laugh before you could stop yourself. the bluntness of it caught you completely off guard.

joe laughed too, rubbing the back of his neck slightly.

“too direct?”

“a little” you admitted.

but you nodded. that was all the encouragement he needed.

he stepped a little closer, one hand hovering uncertainly near your arm before he leaned down and kissed you. just warm and soft and a little tentative, like both of you were still figuring out if it was really happening.

when he pulled back he was smiling in that slightly disbelieving way you’d seen a few times before.

“hi” he said again.

you rolled your eyes a little.

“hi.”

you started walking toward your building, and he fell into step beside you automatically.

after a minute he glanced over.

“i missed you” he said.

you looked down at the sidewalk for a second before answering.

“i missed you too.”

a small pause.

“i thought you blew me off” you added.

he shook his head immediately.

“i wouldn’t.”

then, after a second,

“i really like you.”

you looked back at him, smiling.

“yeah?”

“yeah.”

you reached your building a moment later.

you leaned against the door for a second, looking at him.

“are you in a rush tonight?”

he shook his head.

“no.”

“good.”

you pushed the door open.

“do you want to come up?”

his smile widened instantly.

“yeah,” he said. “i’d like that.”

the rest of the night was quiet in the best way.

you ordered food and sat on the floor of your living room because neither of you bothered moving to the couch. you talked about his trip, about work, about the fact that he apparently needed to start memorising important phone numbers.

at one point he leaned back against the wall beside you and nudged your shoulder lightly.

“i’m still sorry about disappearing.”

“i know.”

“it wasn’t on purpose.”

“i know” you said again.

he glanced at you.

“good.”

you smiled, resting your head briefly against his shoulder.

and somehow, without either of you really planning it, the night stretched on longer than expected. like neither of you were in much of a hurry to say goodbye this time.

-

when joe finally got off tour, things got quieter in a good way.

for months it had always been pieces of time. late night walks after your shifts, random afternoons between soundchecks, texts sent from airports and tour buses and cities you couldn’t even keep track of anymore.

now he was just around.

the first week after he got back, you saw him almost every day without really planning it. sometimes he’d text in the morning asking if you wanted coffee. other times he’d show up near your work out of habit.

“you know you don’t actually have to wait outside anymore” you told him one evening as you walked down the street together.

he shrugged.

“it’s tradition now.”

so you kept the walks.

but there were other things too. normal things. the kind you never really got to do before.

lazy afternoons where you both ended up on opposite ends of your couch doing nothing in particular. trips to the grocery store because neither of you wanted takeout again. wandering through record shops without a schedule waiting for him somewhere.

sometimes you’d catch yourself looking at him and thinking about how strange it all was.

a few months ago he’d just been a guy on stage.

now he was standing in your kitchen arguing with you about what movie to watch.

somehow it all felt very normal.

your friends had stopped pretending this wasn’t turning into something obvious.

“so… are you guys dating?” one of them asked one night.

you hesitated.

“i mean… not officially.”

they stared at you.

“he basically lives at your apartment.”

“that’s dramatic.”

“he has a toothbrush there.”

you didn’t have a good response to that.

the thing was, neither of you had actually said it yet. not properly.

you spent time together. a lot of it. he held your hand sometimes without thinking. you’d fallen asleep next to him more than once after long conversations that stretched too late into the night.

it just hadn’t been labeled. not until one evening a few weeks after his tour ended.

you were walking home again, the familiar route from your job, the one that had started the whole thing. the air was cool, the street quiet except for the sound of your footsteps. joe had been a little quieter than usual the whole walk.

you noticed it after a while.

“what are you thinking about?” you asked.

he glanced over at you.

“nothing.”

you raised an eyebrow.

“that’s never true.”

he laughed softly.

“okay, fine. something.”

you stopped walking, turning to face him.

“should i be concerned?”

“no,” he said quickly. then he rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly looking a little nervous. which was new.

“i just realised something.”

“what?”

“i’ve known you for months,” he said. “i’ve walked you home like fifty times. i’ve basically moved into your apartment.”

“basically?”

“and technically,” he continued, ignoring that, “i’ve never actually asked you out.”

you blinked.

“…oh.”

he shifted his weight slightly.

“so i figured i should probably do that.”

you tried not to smile too obviously.

“probably.”

he looked at you for a second, that familiar half-smile creeping back.

“would you like to go on a date with me?” he said, mock-serious,

you laughed.

“joe.”

“what?”

“we’ve been doing that already.”

“yeah,” he said. “but now it’s official.”

you pretended to think about it for a second.

“okay.”

his eyebrows lifted slightly.

“okay?”

“yeah,” you said, smiling. “i’ll go out with you.”

he let out a quiet breath like he’d been more nervous than he wanted to admit.

“good.”

you started walking again, and after a second his hand slipped into yours like it had a hundred times before.

this time, though, there was something a little different about it.

like the whole thing had finally caught up with what you both already knew.

and as you reached your building, joe nudged your shoulder lightly.

“so,” he said.

“so?”

“first official date.”

you shook your head, laughing.

“you’re such an idiot”

“yeah,” he said easily.

then he squeezed your hand.

“but i’m your's now.”

—-

When you both became teenagers, none of that changed. You both got closer than ever. He made friends with a group of boys, and of course, let you hang out with them. His friends would constantly tease him about you, because nobody was stupid. It was very clear that you two had a thing for each other. Neither of you ever labelled it, because the last thing either of you wanted was to lose the other. If you lost each other, you would lose yourselves too. Although you never labelled what your relationship actually was, the two of you would go out to eat at restaurants, which you never labelled as a date, but it really was. You would tangle up in each other's beds, hold each other, and even kiss when nobody was looking. You were each other's firsts; you really did do everything together.

Joe started to get into acting, and of course, you were his number one supporter. You would record his audition tapes, be by his side during interviews to see if he got the role, and you were there when he got the role of Steve Harrington for Stranger Things. You were beyond proud of him. You wished you could've told him that more than you did.

The two of you separating for him to travel to film Stranger Things was the hardest thing you think you've ever had to do. You came to the airport with him and helped him with his suitcases. Remembering that day makes your heart ache in your chest. Tears streamed down your face as you hugged him tightly for what felt like hours, and you wished it could have been longer. Watching him walk away was worse than a breakup. From you two being attached by the hip growing up, to being separated for him to pursue his acting career. Part of you was angry that you had to let him go, but the other part of you had to be proud.

For months, he made sure to text you when he wasn't busy on set. He would send you pictures and give you updates. That slowly started to die down when he got seriously busy with acting. You felt as if he had already forgotten about you, and you spent nights sobbing into your pillow. Not only were you unable to stare into his eyes anymore, but now he wasn't speaking to you at all. Every night, you would stare at the ceiling, wondering if he had forgotten about you, forgotten about all the memories the two of you made growing up. You never saw it coming. You thought that this was a forever thing.

Joe being away from you and not speaking to you made you realise there were so many things you wished you had said. You wished you had hugged him a little longer, and you wished you could've told him how you really felt. Both of you talked about not wanting to lose each other as kids. You never dated because there was always the risk of losing each other. Now you're not talking to each other at all. Even though Joe wasn't available to talk to you anymore, his sisters still were. Growing up with Joe meant growing up with all four of his sisters, especially Caroline, as you were closest in age.

It had been years since you and Joe last talked. You honestly forced yourself to believe that he had forgotten all about you. You still supported him from afar, watching all the series and movies that he was in, and listening to his music too. Even though he hadn't spoken to you in years, you were still proud of him, and that would never change.

Caroline had invited you to her wedding a few months ago, and of course, you said yes to going. If there was one thing about you, it was that you would always be there to support the people you had known since childhood. Even though you were excited to attend, you had been mentally counting down the days until you would see Joe there. There was a little worry at the back of your mind, you were terrified to lock eyes with him after he had forgotten that you existed.

Fortunately for you, that day had come. You got dressed in the gorgeous, baby blue dress that Caroline thought would look good on you. She was secretly hoping that you and Joe would talk at her wedding. She was absolutely rooting for you and Joe, and she has been for years.

You turned up to the wedding with your hands trembling, trying to mask your nervousness by smiling at everybody and being overly talkative. The ceremony was beautiful, but part of you wished you were sitting watching the ceremony with Joe beside you. The dreaded part of the wedding came around; the wedding reception. You knew you'd see Joe, and you didn't think your heart could take it.

Everyone was up dancing on the shiny floor, and you were there with your head down, sitting at a table, gently swirling your drink around your glass. As soon as you hear footsteps coming up behind you, you don't even have to guess who it is. The sound was all too familiar. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to hold yourself together.

"Hey." Joe says from behind you, gently sliding his hand onto your shoulder, making you melt. The fact that he was being too casual after not speaking to you for years made you feel all kinds of emotions. You slowly turn your head to look over your shoulder, and you're met with Joe giving you the sweetest smile.

"Hey." You mumble, your eyes flicking over him.

He pulls out a seat beside you, his body facing yours. You see the look on his face, the one that tells you that he's feeling guilty. Even after being apart for years, you still know him like the back of your hand. A shaky sigh leaves your lips, finally speaking up after a moment of silence.

"You stopped updating me. You stopped talking." You choke out, tears already welling up in your eyes. He had barely even been here for a minute, and you were already making a mess of yourself.

"I'm sorry. I really am. One day I just got really busy, and I know that's the shittiest excuse ever, but I've lived with the guilt every day." He sighs, looking down at his shoes. You could tell he felt guilty, but that wasn't going to fix the years of him not speaking to you.

"I spent my days thinking that you had forgotten about me. I didn't want to lose you. As kids, we made a promise that it would never happen, and it did." You whisper, blinking your tears away.

"Believe me when I say I thought about that too. We were attached by the hip for years." He smiles, thinking back to when the two of you were young. "My parents and sisters never heard the end of it. All I ever talked about was you. They even considered putting tape over my mouth to shut me up." He chuckles, lifting his head up to look into your eyes.

"Same for me. You were all I talked about.. and I liked it that way. Even if people found it fucking annoying, I never did. I could spend hours just talking about you, and I wouldn't get bored." You smile sweetly, tilting your head to the side.

"I miss it. I miss being by your side every day, and I miss holding you in my arms." He laughs, his voice cracking. His words make your heart ache, gently squeezing your own arm in an attempt to soothe yourself.

"Hold me, then." You whisper, your eyes flicking over his face. He wastes no time scooping you up onto his lap, wrapping his arms tightly around your waist and letting his head fall to your shoulder. The feeling of his breath tickling your neck brings back so many memories that had been stored in the back of your mind. You gently card your hands through his hair, finally feeling his warmth against you after years.

"I'm such an idiot." He mumbles against your shoulder, squeezing you tightly in his arms. "I should've told you sooner, I should've told you when I started to feel that way about you."

"What do you mean, Joe?" You ask, and you swear you can feel your heart beating in your throat.

"I was so fucking in love with you, and I was terrified that telling you that would break us apart. If we had ever gotten together, there was a bigger chance of us never talking again. That almost happened, and that was without me telling you anything." He chokes out, pressing his forehead against your shoulder.

Even though everybody was out on the dancefloor in the same room as you, it felt as if everything came down to just the two of you in each other's arms. "I really did love you, too. That's still never changed.. even after years of silence." You whisper, pressing your lips to the top of his head.

Joe lifts his head from your shoulder, his eyes dropping from your eyes to your soft lips. If he didn't do this now, he would live with the regret of never doing it. "Please." He looks up at you with pleading eyes, and you don't even need to respond.

Your lips crash onto his, messy and desperate. Years of pent-up emotions are finally being released. You tug at his hair, trying to pull him closer to you than he already is. His hands grip your waist, groaning against your lips. He gently nips at your lip, laughing against you. If you could savour this moment and the taste of him forever, you would. His hands are all over you, unsure of where to settle them. For the rest of the night, the two of you spend your time warming up against each other, talking about your childhood, and updating each other on life.

You wished that you weren't so positive, and you wished that you had never gotten your hopes up. It had been weeks since the two of you expressed your feelings to each other at the wedding, and it had been weeks since he last spoke to you. You don't know why you thought for a second that he would stop being busy for you. You don't know why you thought he would suddenly start talking to you again. You've never felt more pathetic. All that talk about feelings, just for him not to contact you again.

You had spent days lying in bed or on your sofa, binging movies to try to take your mind off of it. You would be lying if you said this made you feel better. Nobody had heard from you in weeks. It's like you were doing exactly what Joe did to you, but to everyone you knew instead. Every time you tried to leave the house, all you could do was sob.

There's a gentle knock at your door, and you sit up feeling confused. You hadn't ordered anything, and you hadn't been talking to anyone, so it wasn't like you had invited anyone over. You slowly get up and make your way over to the door. A deep sigh leaves your lips, and you open the door, your eyes immediately meeting Joe's desperate one's.

Something in you snaps, and you break down sobbing, hitting your hands on his chest. Not hard though, even through everything you're feeling, you would never want to hurt him. "Stop coming back to me. All you do is get my hopes back up, and I start to feel like you're finally coming back to me, then you leave me on my own. I feel like a fucking idiot. I really thought what you said at the wedding was true, and then you never spoke to me again after that. Leave me alone. All you're doing is hurting me even more." You cry out, tears streaming down your face.

Worry is written all over his face, your words making his heart hurt. Your legs start to shake, and you lose your balance. Joe scoops you up into his arms, closing the front door and carrying you further into your house. At this point, you can't even fight back. You just let him carry you. He places you down on the sofa and sits next to you, gently brushing your tears away with the pad of his thumb. Suddenly, the room starts to feel smaller than it actually is.

"I forgot to give you my number after the wedding reception finished. I got a new one a while back because people were finding my number and spam calling me." Joe scratches the back of his neck, his eyes flickering over your face, guilt washing over him. "Of course I wanted to keep talking to you, I've never wanted to ignore you. Ever. I meant everything I said at the wedding. I'm so sorry."

You glare at Joe, still upset that this keeps happening. "How did you find me? I never told you where I lived."

A small grin forms on his lips, gently brushing his thumb over your cheek as he admires you. "A little birdie called Caroline told me. I realised I never gave you my number after the wedding, so I asked her where you live to come see you."

"Why didn't you just ask her to give you my number?" You roll your eyes, trying to hold back the little smile that wanted to form on your lips.

"I did ask her for your number, but also seeing you in person is way more effective. I don't want to stay apart from you any longer." He whispers. "I'm not leaving your side. Unless you decide to break my heart and tell me you don't want to see me again after I flew over to see you and bringing my things with me."

You laugh, giving him a slightly confused look. "Are you lying?"

"No. My suitcases are outside.. Probably the worst place to leave them, but they aren't as important as you." He grins, sliding his hands through your soft hair, and you melt into his touch.

"What about filming for shows and whatever? and singing? tours?" You ask, closing your eyes as you relax into him.

"Not filming anything for months, and my tour ended weeks ago, so I have nothing planned. If you're going to ask what would happen if I stayed and had to go back to doing those, you would come with me.. If you wanted, of course." He whispers.

You open your eyes, giving him the most loving look. "I hope you're being serious. I don't wanna get my hopes up again."

"Very serious, ma'am. I'm not leaving your side again. You're the most important thing in my life. Everything else can wait." He leans down and presses gentle kisses all over your face, making you laugh.

After a beat of silence, "Do we have to do the whole 'will you be my boyfriend' thing, or are we way too old for that..?" You chuckle, squirming under him.

"I think it's quite obvious. Don't need to say anything. I love you, and that's final." He smiles against your forehead, sliding his hand under your shirt to rest on your back, warming you up.

"You're an idiot, Joe Keery. I really love you." You chuckle, pressing your lips onto his gently, closing your eyes and savouring the taste. Though you really don't have to do that, because he isn't going anywhere. "Please don't ever leave again." Your voice cracks, and he looks into your glossy eyes.

"I'd be an absolute fool if I were to leave you, baby. I'm right here, always. You're stuck with my annoying ass now. Forever." He chuckles, pressing kisses along your jaw.

The two of you spend the rest of the day in each other's arms, whispering promises and 'I love you's into each other's ears. Outside, the city was busy, but inside, the two of you were tangled up in each other's arms, finally right where you're both meant to be.

“Yeah, yeah for sure, Mel.” Frank returned the smile and started bounding towards the cafeteria. He had to turn around to talk to Mel, his stride much longer than hers. “The caf. is faster than brewing some in the lounge, probably better coffee too. Pro tip.”

She was trying her best to match his stride, and doing a pretty good job, too. Frank barely had to slow down from his usual pace. It was nice, he realized, not having to hold back around her.

“Sounds good!” Mel had her hands tucked away in her zip-up and her braid was swaying behind her as she speed-walked beside him. She looked awfully chipper for this early in the morning, it was endearing. “Y’know, I actually never was a coffee drinker before I started working here. Caffeine can make me jittery, but emergency medicine seems to require a lot more energy than any of my rotations.”

They were rounding the corner into the cafeteria, heading towards the large carafes of mediocre coffee.

Frank chuckled. “Yeah, it’s kind of a necessity for the job, getting hooked on caffeine. I mean, I get withdrawal symptoms if I don’t get my second redbull of the day.” And then, stupidly, “I almost miss the pills.”

She stopped in her tracks, and it took Frank a couple more steps to realize she wasn’t by his side anymore. He turned around and met her gaze, her dark eyes wide and her eyebrows furrowed.

“Joke, Mel.” He shouldn’t have been joking about that, especially not at work. Especially not to Mel. “Sorry, that was uh, bad taste.”

“No, no. Um, It’s okay.” She moved quickly past him, grabbing a paper cup and filling it from the carafe.

Frank lingered a little behind her, a wave of guilt washing over him. He tried to name the cause—something the therapist he was required to see was big on, finding the primary emotion—and he landed on disgust. Disgust that he was the kind of guy that can make flippant jokes about his addiction in front of his nicest coworker.

He was about five disasters deep on his train of thought when Mel turned around to face him. “Do you take anything in yours?” A small smile was back on her face.

“Sorry?” It took a second for him to be fully back in the room.

“Your coffee. Do you take milk or sugar or anything? I didn’t want to assume.” She was pouring milk into one of the two cups she had filled during his momentary breakdown. 

“Uh, no. I take it black.” He moved beside Mel, grabbing two lids and passing one to her.

“Like your soul?” She said, with a cheeky smirk, taking the lid from him. 

Frank let out a small laugh. “Yeah, exactly. Nice one, King.” They started heading back to the central station, elbows knocking every once and a while. “Sorry about that, I know I made you uncomfortable. I shouldn’t have joked about it.”

“It really is okay, Dr. Langdon. I was just caught off guard.” She stopped before they turned the corner to the ER. “Listen, um, if you ever do need to talk about your addiction, you could talk to me.”

She looked like she was waiting for him to either yell or walk away from her. Another pang of guilt washed over him, he didn’t have to wait very long to find the disgust close behind it. 

“Because, you know, I have been told I’m a pretty good listener.” He knew she was. He’d known it since the first day they worked together.

“I know Mel, thank you.” He placed a hand on her shoulder and gave it a quick squeeze. A wide smile was plastered across her face, and for a couple seconds Frank couldn’t bring himself to look away from her dark eyes. “Come on, we should go check on sign-outs. I’ll see you at rounds, okay?”

“Okay!” She broke away from his grasp and disappeared around the corner with a quick wave, leaving Frank standing in her wake; a little dumbstruck by the feeling that came from looking in her eyes. It was still guilt, he thought. But not stemming from disgust or sadness, like usual.

—

Mel thought it was strange how easily she fell into step beside Langdon after he came back to work. 

Everyone else gave him a wide berth, cautious when leaving him alone with patients and questioning almost every decision. It was like they were waiting for him to have an outburst in the middle of the ER.

That couldn’t be further from the Dr. Langdon that she knew. He was obviously having a hard time, but he was never anything but kind and competent when she worked with him. And it was obvious that everyone’s actions had an effect on him, so she started showing up early to get coffee and chat with him. If no one else could muster up the strength to be a friendly face, she definitely could.

Mel was in-between cases and checking the board when Langdon joined her at the counter, sliding a granola bar to her.

“I know you’ve got a quick metabolism, King, so you better keep those calories up.” He was leaning one arm on the counter, his body turned toward her.

“Thank you.” She turned the granola bar over, fruit-and-nuts. Her favourite. “You remembered!”

“Yeah, of course I did. Careful though, technically this is a nut-free environment. That’s contraband.” Mel let out a small laugh and opened the bar. Langdon was eyeing the board, probably trying to find an interesting case. “Huh. For once, I think we might be having a slow day. You know, comparatively”

It had been snowing pretty heavily, which slowed down foot traffic. It was a little early in the year for snow, late October.

“Don’t say that, Dr. Langdon.” His eyes met hers, they were true-blue, and always soft. “Just watch, any second now there’ll be an MI or something coming through the doors.”

He laughed, tossing his head back, a smile so wide it looked like his face had to work hard to keep it contained. It was the happiest she had seen him in a while. It must have been a good day for him.

“I hadn’t pinned you as superstitious, Mel.” She just shrugged in response. Langdon raised his eyebrows then turned his attention back to the board. “Come on, looks like there’s a minor lac in south 2, you can help me suture.”

Mel knew that Langdon didn’t need any help with suturing a laceration, and he technically wasn’t supposed to teach her anymore. But she couldn’t help but fall into step behind him regardless.

They had made it halfway to the room when Mateo called out to them.

“Hey, Langdon, Mel! We got a STEMI coming in. ETA like, now.”

“Alright, we’ve got it.” Langdon turned on his heel, re-routing for the ambulance bay, Mel had to jog behind him to keep up. She couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle.

“I told you!” 

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s do this thing.” He turned around and flashed a smile at her.

They got out to the bay right as the paramedics were taking the patient out of the ambulance. He was a man in his mid-50s, still alert. Mel explained the procedure quickly as they walked the gurney to a trauma room.

“Yes, Mr. Wilson, the balloon will help open the blocked artery. Cardiology will work on you in the cath lab when we’re done here.”

Langdon was darting around the patient, asking questions, giving orders. Just as competent as he was when she first met him. Maybe even better. She liked to watch him work: confident, quick, and clean. He moved around to the same side of the gurney as Mel, so close that their elbows were touching. That was something she had to get used to in the ER, the proximity.

He leaned slightly to get eye-level with her. “Wanna lead, Mel? We’ve done plenty of these.”

“Yes, yeah I can do it.” She grabbed the instruments she needed from Mateo, moving closer to the patient and taking a deep breath.

Langdon slotted in slightly behind her to peer over her shoulder, his hand lightly resting on her lower back. She wondered if his hand placement was intentional or subconscious. Either way, the weight of it was actually kind of comforting; it was the kind of weight she would miss when he took his hand away.

She looked back at him one last time before beginning the procedure. “I can do this.”

He smiled and gave her a quick nod. “Yes, Mel. You can.”

—

Frank’s apartment was a shithole.

It was the result of a frantic apartment search, and he had settled for the first one-bedroom that allowed pets within 15 minutes of PTMC. It was in a semi-recently renovated apartment building, the paint somehow already peeling from the walls.

The apartment had to be pet-friendly because Abby refused to deal with the dog that Frank had saddled them with before his stint in rehab. Ivy was curled up at his feet as he was splayed out on the couch in his mostly-empty living room. Initially, Frank had thought of her as a burden; a reminder of his failed relationship, his inability to maintain his life. But now, he was mostly just thankful for the company.

He could only bear watching reality TV reruns for so long before he needed more than his dog to keep him distracted. It was clear he needed to talk to someone but he struggled to think of who would be willing. He didn’t have any friends outside of the hospital, and mostly everyone there was wary of him. At one point, it would have been Robby, but that was not a route Frank was willing to go down. McKay was cool—and was the one he would feel most comfortable discussing his issues with, given her own past—but his addiction was not the conversation topic he was looking for.

That left one option, the one he knew he would land on.

Mel was the only one who seemed to be able to treat him like a real person, not some idea of who they thought he was. Frank knew he shouldn’t be saddling his baggage on her, she had enough on her plate as it was. But the boredom was getting unbearable, and she was the only person he wanted to see.

There was the guilt again. It seemed that whenever he thought of her it was always close behind.

Before he could think himself out of it, he unlocked his phone and dialed her number. The phone only rang once before she picked up.

“Hello? Langdon, is everything okay?” She sounded equally confused and concerned.

“Hey, Mel. Everything’s fine.” He reassured her.

“Oh, okay. Good, I'm glad.”

He probably should have texted or something to have precedence for contact outside of work. Whoops. But just hearing her voice was enough for him to feel slightly better.

“Um, don’t take this the wrong way or anything but why are you calling me? Not that I don’t want to talk to you, it’s just a little… unexpected.” It sounded like she was trying to skate around something, but Frank couldn’t quite figure out the subtext.

“You’re off today, right?” He knew she was. There was a last-minute scheduling screw-up that required shuffling multiple doctors to make sure they weren’t working obscene hours that week. They were both affected.

“Yes! You are too?”

“Sure am, and bored out of my mind.”

“Me too. I didn’t even find out I had a free day until last night, and I didn’t want to disrupt Becca’s routine, so she’s at the center.” Frank was reminded once more of her extremely full plate. “To be honest, I haven’t had a day to myself in a really long time. I don’t know how to be alone, I think.”

“Want to grab some food? I’m going stir-crazy here by myself.”

It took long enough for Mel to answer that Frank was strongly considering apologizing, hanging up, never talking to her again, and quitting his job. But before he could act on his impulse, her voice came through his phone speaker.

“I’d really like that.”

“Great. I know the perfect place.”

Once Frank was off the phone, he texted Mel the address and attached the link to their menu in case she wanted to look ahead. Then he topped up Ivy’s food and hopped in his car: a sensible hatchback that felt incredibly empty without his kids. One of the only things he got in the divorce along with the dog.

The drive was fast enough to abate Frank’s impulse to turn around and go home. He settled into his favourite corner booth and pulled out his phone to text Mel that he was there.

He couldn’t help but smile when she replied almost immediately.

“Almost there! :)”

And a few minutes later she was sliding into the seat across from him with a bright smile on her face. It was Frank’s first time seeing Mel outside of the hospital and took a second for him to adjust. Her hair was still in a braid, but it was loose and there were strands hanging out rather than slicked back. It was like seeing someone without their walls up. It was kind of special, knowing that he was the only one seeing her like that.

“This place is so cool!” Mel was looking around the diner. It was a Pittsburgh establishment, and Frank could guess that it had barely changed since it opened in the 60’s. ”It’s cozy.”

“I’m glad you approve.” Frank slid a cup of coffee towards Mel. “Here. With milk, right?”

Somehow Mel’s smile got even wider. “Dr. Langdon, you remembered!”

“Of course I did.” Of course he did, he remembered everything she told him. That’s what friends do , he thought. And because they were friends: “You know you can call me Frank, right?”

She took a sip and lingered for a second looking down into her mug.

“Okay. Thank you, Frank.”

And for a second when she looked up, Frank was sure he could see her blush. But the guilt rising up his throat told him that he must have been imagining it.

—

Mel walked through the doors to the ambulance bay, heading to the bus stop. It was a quiet evening, for the most part. Minus a disagreement between Robby and Frank on a trauma case that brought all three of them into the room.

Frank had left right after that. There had only been half an hour left in their shift and Mel could tell that the environment was not beneficial for either Robby or him. She only had a couple charts to finish up, which she finished quickly.

As she was crossing towards the street, something caught her eye, stopping her in her tracks.

Frank was tucked around a corner, crouched down against a wall. He had his head in his hands, covering his face. Even from a distance, Mel could see him shaking, either from the November chill or from his shallow breaths. Or both.

She double-checked that no one was behind her and made her way over, stopping a few feet away.

“Dr.—I mean, Frank?”

No response.

“Can you hear me? It’s Mel.”

He nodded.

“I’m going to sit down beside you, now. Do you want that?”

Another nod. Mel came closer and slid down the wall to sit beside him.

“Is this about Robby?” A nod. “Do you want to talk about it?” He shook his head. 

Somehow, he looked like a little kid. Vulnerable and small. So different from how he normally was.

“How can I help? I want to help you, Frank.”

A strange, strangled noise came out of his mouth. Like a wounded animal. 

And then, “Can you just stay with me?”

Mel could do that.

“I’m right here.”

Mel didn’t know how long they sat there in the cold, but she knew that at one point her hand ended up around his shoulders, and his head ended up tucked into the crook of her arm, and his hand was resting on her leg, just above her knee. And the touch was not unsettling, it was natural. And his breathing slowed to match her own. 

And then he finally looked at her. For what felt like forever.

“Thank you.”

And all she could do was nod, extricate from his grasp, then pick herself up off the ground.

She reached out her hand to him. “Come on, let me drive you home.”

He shook his head. “No, Mel, I don't want you involved in my… mess.”

  “I’m already involved.” She let out a little laugh. “And in my professional opinion—Dr. Langdon—I don’t think you should be alone or behind the wheel right now.” She gestured again with her outstretched hand. “Come on.”

She could see the exact moment that he stopped resisting her: his shoulders dropped and he let out a long exhale. Frank took her hand and she pulled him up to his feet.

“Ok. Keys, please.”

“Wait, Mel, can you even drive? You take the bus.”

“I sold my car to help with student loans. Plus, it’s better for the environment.” She shrugged. “Keys, Frank.”

“Alright, alright.” He handed Mel his keys and started walking towards the parking lot. “My car’s over here.”

Mel unlocked the car and got into the driver’s seat, adjusting the seat and mirrors. “Sorry, you’re going to have to readjust these tomorrow. Put your address in the GPS.”

He did as she said and then let his head rest against the passenger seat window.

They were silent for the entirety of the drive, but Mel didn’t find it uncomfortable. It was like there was an unspoken agreement. 

When they arrived at his apartment, the first thing out of Frank’s mouth was an apology.  

“My place is a mess, sorry in advance.”

He opened the door to maybe the most depressing space Mel had ever seen, everything white or gray. She was unconvinced that anyone could be living there. Well, save for the cutest dog on the face of the earth, who was waiting just past the entryway.

Frank walked ahead of her, tossing his keys on the kitchen counter and bending down to pet the dog. She could see him wince, just slightly. Mel fully entered the space and took in her surroundings; or, the lack thereof.

There were stacks of boxes, all labelled hastily with sharpie: ‘med. journals,’ ‘clothes,’ ‘kitchen.’ Mel noticed that the handwriting wasn’t Frank’s.

“Abby did me the favour of packing.” Frank was just behind her, looking over her shoulder like he did while they were working. “I came home from rehab and all my stuff was in boxes.”

Mel didn’t know what to say, his ex-wife was a topic they had not yet broached. She turned so she could see his face.

“I’m sorry, Frank. That’s horrible.”

He tucked his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Yeah, it was.” He tilted his head like he was considering something. “But I deserved it.”

The dog snuck between them, sniffing Mel’s hand. She knelt down to give it a scratch between its ears. “What’s its name?”

Frank crossed to sit on the couch, one of the only pieces of furniture she could see. “That’s Ivy, short for intravenous.”

“What, really?”

Frank raised his eyebrows.

“Oh! Joke.” Mel let out a breathless laugh. “Funny.”

He cracked a small smile. “She’s just Ivy. No relation.” He hesitated, holding eye contact with her. “How long can you stay?”

“The center can take Becca overnight, she’ll be glad to spend more time with her friends.” She moved to sit beside Frank on the couch. He patted the space between them and Ivy hopped up as well.

“I can stay as long as you need.”

—

A few weeks had passed since Mel took him home, and since then Frank and her had started walking Ivy in the evenings before she had to leave to pick Becca up from the center. And getting coffee in the mornings before their shifts became a ritual.

It was nice to have company. Nice for Frank to have someone to talk to when he didn’t know what to do. 

And it was nice to work with Mel. Nice to trust her with patients and be met with the same. Nice to watch her become more and more sure of herself with every case.

It was so nice Frank couldn’t help but feel like he was waiting for the other foot to drop.

They were chatting in the break room about the latest episode of Frank’s favourite medical podcast when Samira walked in.

“Hey guys! I think a bunch of us are going to head out for a few drinks after shift if you want to join.” She was leaning in the doorway, stretching her arms. “It’s been a busy day, are you two hiding in here?”

Frank laughed, “Nah, just resting my back for a second.” He could feel Mel’s eyes on him, no doubt worrying about if he was in pain. “And schooling Mel on the latest episode of the EM:RAP podcast.”

Samira raised her eyebrows. “Isn’t that what we can thank for that crazy subclavian during Pittfest?” Frank nodded. “Anything good?”

Mel brightened up. “Langdon was telling me about A.I. development in reading ECGs, I don’t know how useful that would be in the ER considering how quick we have to move.”

Samira laughed. “Well, I’ll leave you to it. I gotta go check on some labs.” She pushed off the wall, backing out of the room. “Let me know about tonight!” And she was gone.

“It could be fun to go out with everyone.” Mel turned towards him on the couch, re-braiding her hair. Frank was watching her fingers work, appreciating how deftly she was manipulating the strands. “Frank? It could be fun, right? I mean, only if you think you can handle it.”

He swallowed hard. “Yeah, sounds like a plan. Never had an issue with drinking, only benzos.’

She had finished her braid and was standing up from the couch. “Oh.”

“It’s all good, Mel. I'm looking forward to it.”

She smiled. “Well, good. I’ll go tell Mohan to count us in!”

Frank returned the smile as she left the room.

The rest of the shift went by quickly. Frank was able to find a rhythm, treating patients efficiently, just as he was taught and just as he intended.

If he was honest, he would say that he was nervous to go to a bar. That he wasn’t really sure if his addiction was just limited to pills. That he was scared of what it would take to find out.

But as he was changing out of his scrubs and splashing water in his face, he thought of how it used to be, going out with everyone. How confident he felt when he was having fun. How he wanted to feel like that again. How excited Mel looked to be with everyone. To be with him.

The bar was only a few blocks from the hospital, so Frank walked. Bounding down the sidewalk in long strides and gulping down the cold air. He liked early winter, liked the way his lungs seized up at the sharp change in temperature. He liked to run in the morning, making tracks in the untouched snow as the sun rose. Or, at least he used to.

When he entered the bar, everyone else was already there. They were huddled around a large table in the corner of the busy room. Samira and Mel were sitting at one end, with Whitaker, Santos, McKay, Collins, Mateo, Princess, and Donnie filling out the rest. Even Javadi was there, and Frank realized she must have turned 21 while he was away.

Before heading to join the group, he stopped to grab a drink. “Can I just get a coke, no liquor, thanks.”

As he was leaning on the bar, McKay came to join him. “Another rye and ginger for me.” She turned to look at him. “You drinking?”

“No, just a coke.”

“That’s good. I couldn’t drink for the first couple years of being clean, I kept making stupid decisions.” The bartender handed them both their drinks, and they started making their way over to the table. “Dark soda makes it easier. Less stares.” Right before they got into earshot of the others, she added, “If you need to talk, I’m always a call away, okay?”

Frank clapped her on the arm. “Thanks Cassie, really.”

“Don’t mention it.”

He heard Mel’s voice cut through the noise of the bar: “There you are!”

He let go of McKay and slid into a seat by Mel and Samira.

“In the flesh.” He turned to the rest of the table. “Hey guys.”

The conversation revolved around weird cases everyone had worked on, objects shoved where they shouldn’t have been, weird occult diagnoses, etc. Frank was struck by the shattering realization that everyone had gotten closer without him: Santos and Whitaker were bickering about something, Collins and McKay were talking in shorthand, Mel and Samira were getting along swimmingly, Princess and Donnie were obviously gossiping, and Mateo and Javadi seemed to be flirting, in some strange way that Frank would never be caught doing. It felt like he was on the outside of something, and that feeling would have been easier to manage if he weren’t sober.

Frank excused himself to go to the washroom, closing the door and taking some respite from the noise. He looked at himself in the mirror, he looked tired. He was tired. But he was there and he was trying, so that had to count for something. 

He splashed some more water in his face and steeled himself before walking back to the bar to order another coke. But as he was leaning into the counter to talk to the bartender, he saw a flash of blonde exiting through the front door. He turned to look at the table, and there was no sign of Mel.

“Sorry, uh, excuse me.” He pushed off of the counter and rushed outside, grabbing his coat off a hook. 

She was leaning against the brick wall of the building, just a couple steps from the door. Her head was tilted back and her eyes were closed. Frank noticed her hair—he always noticed her hair—was messy, cascading down her shoulders. The hair tie had found a new home on her wrist. He had never seen her like this, cheeks flushed, lips parted. He felt a deep pang of something in his chest, but if he named the feeling he knew it would start something he wouldn’t be able to stop.

She turned her face towards him, meeting his eyes and smiling.

“Were you going to say something, or just keep staring at me?”

“Are you okay?” She couldn’t have been drunk, she’d been nursing one long island iced tea since he’d arrived.

“It’s loud in there.” Her voice was soft, and she was shivering. No wonder, she only had a t-shirt on.

“Yeah.” He moved towards her and held his coat out. “Come on, it’s cold out here.”

She didn’t make any move to resist him, so he wrapped it around her, rubbing his hands up and down her shoulders to try and warm her up. “You’re still doing it.” Her eyes were so dark, especially at night. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been looking at them. “Staring.” At this distance he could smell a faint hint of alcohol on her breath.

“Sorry.” He said. But he didn’t look away. “You’re freezing, let’s get inside.”

“Can you stay out here with me? I just need a couple minutes.” Mel leaned into his chest, turning her cheek to the side.

“Of course.” He hesitated for a second, then wrapped his arms around her fully. If anyone had come out and seen them, it would have looked bad.

It would have looked like how it was.

—

The cotton of Frank’s sweater was warm against her cheek, a sharp juxtaposition against the cold air around them.

Mel didn’t know why she was doing this. True, she didn’t drink often, but she didn’t think that one drink would make it this easy to look into his eyes. To hold him. To be held by him.

There was an expression on his face when she first turned her head to look at him. It was hard to place. A look that she hadn’t seen his features form since she had known him. Dark but soft at the same time. An expression that was hard to look away from.

“Are you warm enough?” She could feel the vibrations of his voice through his chest. His chin was resting on the crown of her head.

“I’m fine, Frank.”

“Cause you can have my sweater too, if you want.”

“Please stop talking.”

“Okay.”

They stayed like that for a while, his hands rubbing absentminded circles on her back. She studied his breathing, the way his chest expanded as he inhaled. She tried to focus only on the sound of his heartbeat.

When she finally pulled away, she was met with the same look on his face as before. His arms were still wrapped around her back, firm and steady.

Maybe it was the drink that made her do it, but she was pretty sure she was sober by then.

The more convincing answer was that Frank’s eyes were so blue that she couldn’t look away, and his hair was falling in his face as he looked down at her. So she snaked her hand up his chest, and up his neck, and grazed her fingers over his cheek, and ran them through the strands of hair, starting at his temple and moving to the nape of his neck.

And he didn't move away, but he had stopped breathing; He was holding his breath like he was waiting for something. So she pulled him down towards her by his neck and raised up on her toes until their lips were just an inch away from each other.

“Frank, I’m—”

But before she could finish the sentence, his lips were on hers. Soft but deliberate. Mel thought that they fit together like puzzle pieces, moving together in a comfortable rhythm. His hands dropped to the small of her back, pulling her closer. She brought her other hand up to rest on his cheek.

She could have stayed like that forever, his tongue running against her bottom lip. Their breath mixed in the winter air.

And then just as suddenly as he started the kiss, Frank ended it. He pulled away, and he wasn’t looking at her anymore.

She must have done something wrong. She shouldn’t have crossed that line. Especially not now.

“Oh my God.” She let go of him, taking a step back. Suddenly missing his hands on her. “I’m sorry.” Mel’s voice was too loud in her own ears, the noise of the bar would have been preferable to the silence of the snow-muted street.

She shrugged off his coat and pressed it against his chest as she moved past him. “I’m so sorry, Frank. Forget I did anything.” She was stifling a sob as she pushed through the front door of the bar.

The last thing she heard before the door closed was Frank’s voice, breathy and strained. 

“No, Mel. Wait—”

But she couldn’t hear the rest as she found her seat back at the table. And when Samira asked her if she was okay, and why her cheeks were red, all Mel could say was that it was really cold outside.

—

Frank never really believed in God, but he was sure someone up there had it out for him the next day at work.

First, Mel walked into the ER with her hair down and Frank had to do a lap to keep his mind off of what had happened the night before. He was extremely relieved when he got back to the central station to see that she had braided it back, but the taste of her lips on his wouldn’t leave the back of his mind.

Then, somehow, he and Mel ended up on almost every case together. And even though they barely spoke a word to each other, it was like they were incapable of breaking eye contact. Even when they were across a room, their eyes found each other.

Further, every time they traded places around a gurney they had lingering touches: his hand on her lower back, her hand on his bicep, their elbows touching. It was enough to drive a man much stronger than Frank insane.

Lastly, at every turn, he had people coming up to him and asking if everything was okay between him and Mel. Samira, McKay, Dana, even Robby. All with varying degrees of suspicion. And every time, he replied, “Everything’s fine, thanks.”

If any day was deserving of a NA meeting, that was certainly the one. He couldn’t get out of the hospital fast enough, for fear of finding a way to get more benzos and relapsing right then and there. He was white-knuckling the steering wheel the entire way to the church.

The group that eventually stuck was held in the dingy basement of an old church. The others he had tried out were always in rooms that were too big and bright for him. It was more comforting in a place he could live up to.

It was coming up on the 6-months mark from when rehab actually started working. Frank had relapsed a couple times before he actually committed to getting better. He’d get his 6-month key tag later that week.

He walked down the back stairs of the church, through the hallway into the main basement. The familiar musty smell was overwhelming, especially when mixed with the aroma of bad coffee. He was initially surprised at how many people just came to the meetings for the coffee, but he had clued in that it was the hook to get people in the room. Like a gateway drug for recovery.

Another reason that Frank liked this meeting was that it was arranged in rows with a podium for speakers at the front rather than in a circle. There was nothing worse than trying to avoid eye contact for an hour and a half.

Frank found a seat in the last row, listening to the current chairperson of the group. He was a reedy guy, seemingly all sinew and bone. He had talked about how important his workout regimen had been in his recovery, Frank thought he was probably just replacing one addiction with another.

Then, the sharing started, and for some reason, Frank was standing, and walking up to the podium and saying, “My name is Frank, and I’m an addict.”

He swallowed hard, not sure where to start.

“So, I’m a doctor. A senior resident. And last year, I was caught stealing benzodiazepines from the hospital I work at.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, deep, and clenched his fists until it hurt. “I started abusing prescription medication following a back injury. And because of that I’ve lost almost everything that kept me steady: running, my colleagues’ trust, my wife, regular visits with my kids. Everything. I feel like I’m constantly treading water, trying to find something to hold onto to keep my head above the surface.”

Frank wasn’t sure if he should have kept going, but it felt like if he didn’t voice it he would implode.

“But, uh. There’s someone I work with, a wonderful doctor, a wonderful woman. And she’s the only one who’s treating me like I still deserve to be there. And she’s been a great friend to me the past few weeks. We get coffee, and walk my dog, and we work well together. So it feels like I’ve finally found a foothold, right? A friend to talk to, someone to rely on.”

He chewed his lip for a second, trying to gauge the reaction of the group. A couple concerned glances, a couple kind smiles. He decided it was better to look at the podium in front of him.

“But now I’ve completely fucked it—sorry, screwed it up. Because last night we were at the bar with a couple of coworkers. I hadn’t been drinking but she had been, and we were standing outside. And, um, I crossed a line, and we kissed, and it upset her. I should have known better, it wasn’t appropriate. But she was beautiful, she is beautiful. And I know deep down that I’m attracted to her, but I’m definitely not the man who deserves to be with her. So I’ve never wanted pills more than now, because I’d rather be numb than have to deal with the fact that I may have just ruined our friendship.”

He let out a shaky breath.

“Because I’ve realized that nothing is more important than this, not even pills. And if I can’t have her how I want, I’ll be happy with having her as a friend. And if I can’t have her as a friend, then I don’t know what I’m going to do.” He stepped away from the podium. “Uh, thanks.”

And he walked down the aisle, but instead of sitting back down, he kept walking back through the cramped hallway, and up the stairs, and out into the parking lot.

Frank sat in his car for a long time, not sure what to do with himself. He had shared before in meetings, but never that candidly, and never that negatively. You were supposed to focus on your feelings of hope, strength, etc. Usually he said something every couple weeks about how hard it was to be divorced, but that he was hopeful for his relationship with his kids. Or, how he was sad he didn’t have the same relationship he used to have with a mentor, but that he’d found strength in his own skills. He had never really gotten into anything that explicitly declared him at fault, but he knew that everything that had gone wrong in his life he’d been mostly responsible for. And now about 20 other addicts knew that too.

He eventually picked up his phone and dialled a number, holding it up to his ear and waiting for a couple rings before she picked up.

“Frank?”

“Hey, Cassie. I’m cashing in on your offer.”

“I’m all ears, kid.”

—

The lights were too bright. That’s all Mel could think. The lights were too bright, and everything was too loud, and this kid was too young to be going through this.

The paramedics had brought in a 7 year-old girl, Mia, who had been hit by a car while riding her bike. She had severe road rash, at least one broken rib, a broken tibia, and possible lacerations to her organs from the broken rib, which were likely causing internal bleeding in her abdomen. She was conscious for a few minutes when they brought her in, and all she could say was that she wanted her dad.

Mel was securing Mia’s airway when Langdon came bounding in through the doors.

“What the hell happened to this kid?” He was examining her abdomen. “Abdomen is rigid.”

“She was hit by a car while riding her bicycle. I can see the cords.” Mel had gotten the intubation tube in and was pulling out the laryngoscope. “Bag her.”

Jesse attached the bag to the tube. “Yellow, nice work.”

Frank had started the E-FAST to confirm internal bleeding. His eyes flitted up to Mel’s like they always did when they worked together. She felt like she couldn’t breathe, but she pushed it down.

“Did they get the asshole that did this?” He was still looking at Mel.

“Could you get me a splint, Jesse? We need to stabilize this break in her leg.” Then, to Frank. “No, it was a hit and run.”

“Jesus.” He had the image up on the monitor now. “Yep, internal bleeding in the RUQ. Shit. We need surgery down here now.”

“They’re on the way.” Jesse was bagging and keeping an eye on the heart rate monitor.

“With an Ortho consult?” Mel was trying to focus on the leg. Take it step by step. Tighten the straps above and below the break, make sure it’s stable for surgery.

Jesse nodded.

Mel glanced at Mia’s face, peaceful despite all the chaos around and inside of her. “She’s so little. It’s not fair.”

Frank looked over his shoulder at her. “No, it’s not. So, we’ve gotta fix her up. Okay, Mel?”

“Okay.”

So they fixed her up. Then Garcia showed up and confirmed that she needed surgery right away, so they rolled the gurney out of the trauma room, and pushed it into the elevator, and watched as the doors closed and Garcia took over bagging.

“We’ve got this, great work guys.”

And then everything was quiet, and Mel didn’t have a task to focus on anymore. And she felt the tears coming, but she didn’t want anyone to see, so she turned away from Frank and started to the central station.

“I’m going to call the family.” Her voice sounded strange and distant coming out of her mouth.

But before she could get far, she felt a hand on her arm. Soft but firm.

“No. Jesse, can you please call them?” Frank sounded like he was asking, but Mel could tell it was really an order. “I’ll talk to them when they get here.”

Jesse made eye contact with Mel, checking in. And when she gave a small nod, he said, “Yep, for sure,” and walked away.

“Come with me.” Frank took Mel away from the center of the ED, towards an empty exam room. And she went with him, because she couldn’t find it within her to pull away.

As soon as they were through the door he sat her down on the bed, turned the lights down, closed the door behind them, and drew the curtain closed so no one could see.

“Is that better?” His voice was barely above a whisper. Mel nodded in response, unable to find the words. “Can I sit with you?”

“Yes.” She moved over to give him room, her voice was still distant.

Frank sat down beside her and slipped an arm around her back, gentle and comforting, and she rested her head on his shoulder. Her emotions came to a head at the touch, tears streamed down her face and silent sobs wracked her body.

“It’s okay.” He used his free hand to cradle her head, stroking her hair. “Hey, sweetheart, it’s okay.” And Mel was pretty sure he was crying too, judging by the crack in his voice.

“It made me think of Becca.” She was speaking through the tears. “When we were kids she got hurt. Not that badly, but enough to leave an impression. Dad was supposed to be watching us, but she fell off her bike and he wasn’t there. So I had to calm her down enough that I could call 911. She kept saying that Dad was supposed to take care of her.”

“I’m sorry you had to do that.” He was smoothing her skin with his thumb, firm and intentional. “You did great work in there. You held it together, you got the job done. You did exactly what you were supposed to.”

She nodded. “Thanks.” Her voice was barely audible, even in the quiet room.

She felt his body heave with a deep breath, her head rising and falling with his shoulder.

“I was scared. She reminded me of Tanner and Ella. I never want to have to see them like that. I want to be able to protect them.” His voice was shaky and quiet. Mel knew that his kids were important to him, and she could tell that it was killing him to be separated from them. “I can’t believe someone could hit a 7 year-old with their car and not even stick around to call the paramedics. What a piece of shit.”

Mel reached a hand up to hold onto his arm, squeezing his bicep. He turned to plant a kiss on the top of her head. Maybe Mel was selfish, but she couldn’t get enough of his hands on her. Even just like this. Especially just like this.

After a couple minutes, they had both stopped crying and their breathing was back to normal.

She patted his arm and sat up straight again, looking him in the eyes. “You should call your kids, Frank.”

“Yeah.” He let out a long sigh.

“Thank you.” She reached out and squeezed his hand. “Sorry I got emotional.”

He laughed softly. “You’re not alone, Mel. You’re just the only one of us who’s even remotely in touch with their emotions.” He placed one hand on her cheek, swiped away a rogue tear with his thumb, and looked deep into her eyes. “Take however long you need, I’ll keep them off your case.”

She nodded, and leaned into his hand a little. Then he was standing, and leaving the room, and he was gone. And Mel missed his touch. 

And then she took a few deep breaths, and the room was empty again.

—

“How hard can it be to find an apartment that doesn’t suck around here?”

Frank was using one of the work stations to try and find a new apartment, the end of his lease was coming up and he hadn’t renewed it for the upcoming month.

Since the day that they treated the hit-and-run kid, Mel and him had fallen back into their regular patterns, with Frank even joining Mel and Becca for dinner a couple times over the past few weeks. They hadn’t spoken about their kiss or the moment in the exam room, and it felt like they had silently agreed not to. If that’s what it took to still have her in his life, he was willing to leave it be.

The apartment search was spurred by a visit with Mel which ended with her telling him to find a new place to live otherwise she wouldn’t stop by anymore: “This place is… depressing . I think it’s making you more depressed. Either find someplace new or I’m rescuing Ivy and never coming back.” And he could tell she was serious, so he got to work.

McKay had sat down beside him, peered over his shoulder at the screen and laughed loudly at what she saw.

“You’re doing this instead of charting? Don’t let Robby see.” She shoved his shoulder lightly.

“Yeah, whatever. Old man should take his own advice and pad his charts too, maybe then we’d get paid enough for me to afford a half-decent place.” He huffed.

“How long do you have to find somewhere to go? Please don’t tell me—”

“Three days.”

McKay gave him an extremely withering look. “No, Frank, really?”

He raised his eyebrows and turned back to the screen.

“One word, bud:” She clapped him on the shoulder and stood up, grabbing an iPad. “Screwed.” And she walked over to chairs, letting out one more big laugh.

“Don’t I know it.” He scrolled through a rental site, and while there actually were some decent places, none of them seemed like they had the potential to be home.

Mel had sidled up to the counter, checking the board and sipping on a juice box.

“Who’s getting screwed?” She smiled the way she did when she didn’t want to laugh at Frank’s jokes.

“Dr. King, is this appropriate workplace conversation?” He raised an eyebrow, and was pleased with the small laugh she let out in response. “No, it’s true, I am one hundred percent screwed.”

“What’s going on?” She chewed on the straw of her juice box and leaned against the counter to face him. It took Frank a lot of effort to stop staring at her lips. And even more effort to push down the guilt tugging at his chest.

“I told my landlord that I wouldn’t be renewing my lease, and now I have three days to find somewhere else.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Frank, no.”

“Wow, deja vu.” That earned him an eye roll. “But really, I’ve backed myself into a corner here, Mel.” Frank leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms over his head. “You were right, I need to live somewhere that doesn’t feel so empty.” He needed a place that didn’t remind him of how alone he felt right out of rehab.

She didn’t respond immediately and Frank could tell that she was thinking something over. That was one of his favourite things about her: how expressive she was. Her eyebrows pulled together, creating small lines on her forehead that he would give anything to smooth out with his thumb. Frank thought he could probably spend hours studying the details of her face. Really, he struggled to think of anything else he would rather be doing.

“Well, if you can’t find anywhere else—which I think is most likely given how late you’ve left it—I, um… I have some room in my townhouse. At least until you can find somewhere else.” Her voice was quiet and soft, and Frank could tell it was a big deal for her to offer. It was a big deal for him, too. “Langdon, I’m serious, you know?”

“I know.” She wouldn’t have said it if she didn’t mean it. Another thing he loved about her. “But, Mel, I don’t want to be a burden. You have a lot to deal with already without me.” He leaned forward, putting his weight on his elbows. “It’s one thing to live with a coworker, a friend. It’s another thing to live with someone in recovery.”

Mel just looked at him for a couple seconds, then she moved to stand in front of his knees, forcing him to sit back to look up at her.

“Becca loves you, so that’s not an issue. My basement is finished, so you and Ivy would have a lot of space.” She smiled her wonderful small smile and tilted her head. “And, if you do anything that would endanger either yourself or anyone else, I’ll kick you to the curb.”

Frank scooted his chair back a little bit.

“Wow, Mel. I never knew you to be so cruel to someone in need.”

“Is that a yes?”

If Frank was honest, he would say yes to anything she wanted him to. And he would much rather live in Mel and Becca's basement than a sad, grey, empty apartment.

“Yes, Mel.” He nodded. “It’s a yes.”

—

“Mel, I think he’s here!” Becca’s voice reverberated from downstairs, and Mel smiled to herself at the excitement in it. She could feel the same excitement thrumming through her chest, warm and almost unbearable, inexplicable for the circumstances.

When Mel had told Becca that Frank was going to stay with them, at least for a little bit, she was met with the biggest smile she had seen for a while. The first time that Mel had Frank over for dinner, she was worried that they wouldn’t get along. But when Becca and him sat across the table volleying facts about her favourite movies, and his favourite music, and what Mel and him did at work that day, she was able to let out a breath she had been holding for a long time. Frank listened—really listened—and answered every question with thought. Like he always did with Mel. 

When Frank left that evening, Becca sat with Mel on the couch and said, “I really like your friend.”

And Mel had said, “Yeah, I really like him too.”

“He looks sad, though. You should cheer him up, you’re good at that.”

Mel smiled, “Thanks, Bec. I’m trying.”

“Good.” And Becca had given her a quick hug, then went upstairs to get ready for bed.

Now, Mel was hurrying down the stairs to meet Frank at her front door. She took a quick breath, then opened it to see him standing in front of her. He was carrying a small box of his things and had Ivy on a leash sitting beside him.

“Hey, roomie.” His grin tugged at her heartstrings, and the whole image of him standing in the doorway was almost too much to bear.

She swallowed hard and stepped aside so he could pass her. “Come in!”

Becca came around the corner and let out a small shout of joy at the sight of Ivy.

“Hi, Becca! This is Ivy, she’s really friendly.” Frank crouched to put his box down and let Ivy go to Becca’s open arms. He straightened back up and faced Mel. “Thanks again for doing this.” His eyes were open and sincere. “Seriously, you’re saving my life, here.”

“Well, I am a doctor.” She gestured to the box he brought in. “Can I help you with the rest?”

He grinned again. God, she loved that grin. “Becca, can you make sure Ivy doesn’t run off while we bring stuff in?” 

“Yes! We can go to my room, right Ivy?” And they both trotted up the stairs.

“I’m glad she likes her so much.” Frank was heading out the door, turning to talk to Mel. “I was worried Ivy would be another intrusion.”

“Oh, no. Becca loves dogs, we had one when we were kids. He was really sweet: Cooper,  a big doberman.” Mel had loved him, too. “It'll be nice to have Ivy around.”

“Good to know you like at least one of your new house guests.” He raised his eyebrows at her and unlocked his car.

“It’ll be nice to have you, too, Frank.” She had to ignore the flush she felt creeping up her cheeks as she said it. And the way she could feel him looking at her.

She opened his trunk and was once again struck by how little stuff Frank actually had. Just a couple boxes of books and clothes, one with some spare mugs that had significance: ‘best dad ever,’ ‘I finished my first marathon and didn’t throw up.’ The only things that looked to be new were the supplies for Ivy. Mel felt like she was looking at the ghost of who he used to be. 

It only took them two trips to the door to get all his belongings in. Frank had insisted that he could get his things down to the basement himself, despite her protests about his back. Eventually, everything had been set up so that he could at least make it through the night, and a list had been made of things to pick up the next day.

After dinner, Becca had retreated to her room for some alone time, leaving Mel and Frank on the couch in the living room. His head was resting against the back of the couch leaving his neck exposed. Mel felt he looked almost vulnerable, open and relaxed. She was sitting against the arm of the couch, facing fully towards him, knees tucked up to her chest. Despite the physical distance, the proximity of sharing the same home was starting to set in. Comfortable, yet charged with something she didn’t want to name. As if to name it would be to diminish it with one definition.

Mel was content just looking at him. She had to admit, he was easy to look at. His features were set into his face with precision, as if placed there by design. It would be easy to lean into him again, to kiss him again, but it was clear there was a line that they both weren’t willing to cross. They both needed each other in a different way for now. And Mel was good at waiting.

Frank turned his face toward her, his eyes meeting hers and a tired grin on his face. She couldn’t help the smile that creeped up in response.

“Now you’re doing it.” His voice was low, calm. “Staring.”

She was caught off guard by his reference to the night at the bar, albeit indirect. It still caused her cheeks to flush when she recalled the way he looked at her then.

“I’m just getting used to seeing you here.”

He shifted to mirror her on the couch. They way his lips tugged to one side of his mouth told Mel that he was thinking something over.

“I just wanted to thank you again, Mel.” He put one hand up to stop her response that was already brewing. “Seriously, thank you. You’re an angel. I don’t know what I’d do without you as a friend.”

Mel couldn’t help the drop she felt in her stomach when he said ‘friend,’ but that was what they were, so there was no use in feeling disappointed. She couldn’t find the words to respond in the way she wanted to, so she stuck with: “You’re welcome, Frank. I don’t know what I’d do without you, either.”

He nodded, then stood up, crossed over to her, and planted a small kiss on the top of her head, just like he did when they were alone in the exam room.

“Goodnight, Mel.” His voice was barely above a whisper as he made his way down the stairs, the back of his head disappearing down into the dark of the basement.

And when he was gone, Mel let herself say it back.

—

They fell into a comfortable pattern, their own form of domesticity.

They went grocery shopping together, Frank bounding around with the list Mel wrote for him, dropping items into the cart as she made her way methodically through the store. He insisted on carrying the bags to the door, overloading his arms so it only took one trip.

Frank cooked breakfast for the three of them in the morning. Fried eggs, pancakes, bacon, fruit salad, coffee. Frank cooked every meal, really, because he was a surprisingly good cook.

“How did you learn how to cook so well?” Mel asked one morning as they were driving to work.

He chuckled and glanced at her quickly before giving his attention back to the road. “My mom taught me when I was little, and I never stopped. I like doing it for other people again, I didn’t cook a lot when I was living alone.”

Everyone walked Ivy together around the neighbourhood and the local park. Becca always took the leash, walking a few paces in front of Mel and Frank. These walks gave the opportunity for many long conversations: about how they grew up, what they want for their futures, how it is dealing with life and a residency. When Becca wasn’t up for a walk, Mel and Frank ran together, each sharing an airpod and pacing themselves against the dog.

Frank started to run again regularly regardless, learning how to strengthen his core to be able to sustain exercise with his back pain. When alone, he always ran in the early morning, gulping down the brisk air and watching the sun rise over the rivers that ran through the city. And when he was feeling really bad, the runner’s high was almost enough to curb his cravings.

Mel began to take time for herself, after Frank had urged her to. He was capable of watching the house, taking Becca to the center and to her activities. Mel thought he actually enjoyed it, being needed. It was good for her to recenter herself, swimming laps and taking yoga classes. Anything that could quiet the voice in her head telling her all the things she should’ve been worrying about. It was nice to have someone else who could worry about them with her.

Eventually, the kids started visiting. Abby had come over to make sure Frank’s living situation was healthy—really, to make sure that he was really getting better. Mel and Abby got on well, considering everything, but there were very few people that Mel couldn’t get along with.

“You’re sure he’s alright?” Abby was leaning on the kitchen island as Mel washed dishes.

Mel hummed, keeping her eyes on the suds. “I think he’s trying to be. And I think that’s all he can really do.”

Mel could hear Abby let out a long breath. “He deserves to be happy, I think.” Mel turned to meet her eyes. “I loved him, I did. But I’m not what he needs. Our relationship was practically over even before rehab.”

“I’m sorry, Abby.” Mel got the urge to reach out and hold her hand, but she was all covered in soap, so she grabbed a tea towel instead. “That must have been really hard.”

Abby let out a dry laugh. “It’s okay. Just…” Another deep breath. “Just look out for him, okay? I’m not what he needs, but—But I think you could be.”

And all Mel could do was nod.

Before Abby left, she gave Frank a long, firm hug. And it was both extremely awkward and extremely necessary. It was like a period on whatever it was they felt for each other.

“I’m glad to see you’re doing okay.” She muttered into his shoulder.

“I’m glad to see you’re doing okay.” Frank sighed. “I really fucked everything up, Abby.”

She nodded. “But you’re going to make it better.” She pulled away and patted his shoulder. “I’ll drop the kids off tomorrow, okay? They’ve missed the fuck out of you.”

He was blinking back tears. “Yeah? The feelings are mutual.”

“Goodnight, Frank.” And she disappeared out into the night.

Tanner and Ella started spending weekends with Frank when he was off, and even though they took some time to warm up to everything, Frank felt like he could breathe again. Mel was fantastic with the kids, playing games and colouring with them, and Frank loved seeing them with her. Becca had said that they were the nicest kids she had ever met, and they always asked her to read them books after dinner. They brought laughter and love back into Frank’s life that had been missing for too long.

Mel had set up the other spare room in the basement for the kids, and at night, she watched as Frank tucked them in. She watched as the missing piece of his life slotted back into place.

Life went on, as life does. And through all of it, Frank had subconsciously stopped looking for another place. And Mel hadn’t bothered to bring it up, either.

—

“Mel, Hon.” Frank whispered as he shook Mel’s shoulder lightly. “You should get to bed.”

4 months had passed since he moved in, and it was like he was becoming a completely different person. He didn’t feel the crushing weight on his chest anymore, it was being replaced by the ease and comfort that came with being needed and needing someone else.

Everything between him and Mel was normal, or as close to normal they could get. There was still no discussion of those glimpses of intimacy they had—the passionate kiss outside the bar and the stolen moment in the exam room—and as much as Frank tried to push it down, the feeling was eating him alive.

Living together almost amplified the silence regarding their relationship. ‘Friends who have kissed once, and held each other during hard moments, and stare at each other across every room they’re in together, and are acting like a married couple but sleeping in separate rooms’ didn’t exactly roll off the tongue. But it felt like sharing a home made it harder to approach the subject.

And sure, Frank had imagined what it would be like to be together, but despite his improvements, the guilt still rushed in when he thought of a wonderful woman like her dating a mess like him. But he couldn’t stop thinking about running his tongue over her lips again. And it was ruining his life.

But there he was, flat on his back on the couch, with Mel’s head resting on his chest and their legs tangled up, one of her arms draped over the edge and the other wrapped around his waist. His breath rippled the gold strands of hair as he watched her head rise and fall with his inhale and exhale.

The first time this had happened, he had woken up with a start and pulled away from her. Both of them had retreated back to their rooms quickly with an awkward exchange of goodnights. It had since become a habit to stay up talking on the couch until they fell asleep in each other’s arms. It took a while for Frank to stop feeling guilty at how naturally their bodies slotted together, but a reassurance from Mel let him get over it quickly.

“Frank, stop fidgeting. I’m the most comfortable I’ve been maybe ever.” She murmured through heavy, sleepy breaths. “Just relax.”

Frank would take anything Mel would give him. Besides, it made it easier to fall asleep when he did eventually make it to bed. Which was definitely the only benefit.

Shaking himself from his thoughts, he tried to wake her up again, rubbing his hand up and down her back.

“Come on, Melissa, you don’t want to stay all night on the couch.” His voice was low and gravelly, ridden with sleep. “Let’s get you upstairs.”

She shoved her face deeper against his chest, speaking into his shirt. “Mmm, no.”

“No?” He puffed out a soundless laugh. “What, do you want to come downstairs with me?”

She was quiet for a couple seconds, then craned her neck up to look at him. “Are you joking?”

Well, initially he was. But seeing her dark eyes peering up at him made him reconsider.

“You can if you want. I sleep better with someone there.”

Mel hummed. “Me too.”

“Okay. Come on, then.”

She pushed up off of him and planted her feet on the ground. He followed suit, grabbing his phone from the coffee table and offering her his hand. She took it and he led the way down the stairs to his room. He spent a moment just looking at her, hair messy in her pyjamas. He thought it was the most beautiful she had ever looked.

It was new to have her in his room, she never really went in there other than briefly poking her head in. It was pretty bare; he didn’t really have a lot to fill it out with. A bookshelf in the corner held his medical journals and books, along with a framed picture of his kids, and one of Ivy’s beds was at the foot of his bed. For a brief moment, he was embarrassed that he had so little of himself to show.

“Which side do you sleep on?” Mel’s voice broke the silence.

“The right.” 

“Good, I sleep on the left.” She moved to the bed, slipping under the covers and placing her glasses on the nightstand.

Frank got into the other side, careful to leave some space between them. For some reason, laying beside her in the bed felt more real than on the couch. He rolled onto his left to face her, the faint light from the small window dappling across her face.

Mel turned to meet his gaze and they laid there like that for a long time, just looking at each other and breathing. She moved towards him and he opened his arms, enveloping her into a big hug.

“Goodnight, Mel.” He said against the top of her head. She just tightened her arms around him in response.

And Frank fell asleep to the sound of her heart beating against his chest.

—

Mel had gotten used to the hum of people in the house. Becca and Frank chattering in the morning as he made breakfast, the kids playing on the weekends, the ambient sounds of the TV shows Frank watched. It had been a long time since Mel had lived in a house with life in it; she did her best with Becca after their parents died, but it had felt so lonely for so long. To hear the sounds of laughter and conversation consistently was a welcome change.

But that night, the house was fully silent for the first time in months. Frank had to stay late at work, roped into a difficult case that needed extra overlap on the hand-off. He didn’t have time to come home for dinner before his NA meeting in the evening. This had been communicated by quick, apologetic texts as his ETA kept getting later and later. 

Becca was out of the house for a sleepover at the center, which she had been talking about the entire week leading up to it. Mel had facetimed her after dinner, which was quickly ended after Becca told her not to worry about her. Mel didn’t tell her that the call was mostly for herself.

She had curled up in her favourite chair—Ivy at her feet—with the intent of reading a novel she had on her shelf for months, but it quickly turned into her checking her phone every couple pages to see if she had any new messages from either Becca or Frank.

After an hour, her phone lit up.

“ Finally on the way home. I have a surprise to show you! See you in 10. ”

Mel liked that Frank always let her know what he was doing, that he cared enough to check in with her. She smiled and typed out her response: “ I missed you today. ”

A few seconds passed, and Mel thought that he didn’t see it, but then she briefly saw him typing before his message came through.

“ Jesus, Mel, it’s been a day. See you soon, Sweetheart. ”

‘Sweetheart’ was a name that Frank reserved for special moments: comforting her while she cries, celebrating big wins on cases, and when he thinks she can’t hear it when they’re cuddling. But his use of it casually in a text sent off a spark in her chest. All she could do for the ten minutes it took him to come home was re-read it over and over again.

She heard him before she saw him. “Hey, I’m home!” The sound of his jacket rustling as he hung it up preceded his footsteps padding around the corner into the kitchen. “You want tea?”

She sat for a few more minutes, but eventually she decided that she needed to see him. His voice wasn’t enough anymore. She leaned in the doorway to the kitchen and took in the sight in front of her: Frank’s dark hair mussed out of its gelled style, his t-shirt hugging his biceps as he prepared their mugs, the irresistibly domestic sight of him in their kitchen.

“Hey.” Mel’s smile was practically audible.

His blue eyes met hers with a glint, her favourite grin spreading over his face. He poured water for the tea and brought the mugs to the kitchen island.

“How was your day?”

Mel sat at the island, letting the hot water warm her hands through the ceramic of her mug.

“Very boring.” Then, a little softer, “I missed you.”

“Yeah, you said.” A bright chuckle escaped his lips. “That was quite the message to receive, Melissa.”

“So was yours.” She wasn’t going to let that ‘Sweetheart’ slide, but there was another pressing matter. “What’s the surprise?”

“Oh, yeah. I told you that this was a meeting I really needed to be at, right?”

She nodded.

“Well, this is why.” He pulled a key tag out of his back pocket and placed it on the island. “As of today, I’m officially a year sober.”

“Oh, Frank!” She stood up out of her chair to pull him into a hug. “I’m so proud of you.”

His hands landed on her lower back like they always did, and he pulled her against him just like he did outside the bar.

“Thanks, Mel, Really. For everything.” He pulled his head back to look at her face. “It’s been a hell of a year.”

“It has.”

“But it’s also been the best I’ve had in a while, know why?” That indefinable look was back in his eyes.

“Why?” She snaked her arms up around his neck, testing the waters.

“Because of you.” He rubbed his hands up and down her back, another one of her favourite things he did. “I felt like I wasn’t really living before you. It’s like you coming into my life is a sign from God.”

She furrowed her brows. Her heart was telling her that this was going down a road they had been narrowly avoiding for months, and her head was telling her to stomp on the brakes.

 Mel decided this was a road that desperately needed to be driven down.

“A sign to do what, Frank?” She tilted her head, watching as his eyes narrowed in response.

“I don’t know, Mel. I have no idea what to do.”

“Well, I do.”

Before she could think about it she pulled his mouth down to meet hers, their lips meeting in an urgent kiss. It felt like coming home.

His hands found their way under the hem of her shirt, splaying out against her skin. The touch sent shivers up Mel’s spine, causing her to pull the hair at the nape of his neck. He let out a small, delicious sound against her mouth.

Frank kissed like how he worked, efficient and confident. He pulled her entire body flush to his, as if he was afraid she was going to pull away. Mel liked the pressure, liked how sure it felt. They were kissing, this was real.

Mel brushed her tongue over his lips, asking for access, and he graciously let her explore his mouth. He moved so urgently it was like he was air-starved and she was his oxygen supply, it made Mel dizzy.

She turned them so she was leaning back against the island, desperately seeking something to ground her.

“Mmh, hold on.” Frank murmured against her lips. He reached over and moved their mugs to the side, with Mel still clinging onto his neck and breathing into his mouth. He pulled back and just stared at her, so she did the same. He looked unbelievably handsome, disheveled hair and lips swollen. She couldn’t help the smile that she felt creeping onto her face.

“Good god.” He cradled her face in his hand, swiping his thumb over her bottom lip. “I can’t believe this is finally happening.”

“Finally?” He’d been waiting ? He could’ve had her on their first day working together. She would’ve given him anything he wanted.

“I mean, in my dreams it’s pretty fucking great, but this is even better.”

This elicited a small, strangled noise at the back of Mel’s throat. She crashed their lips back together and he lifted her onto the counter, slotting himself between her legs.

His hands were wandering under her shirt, pressing against her ribs, her waist, her stomach. He was covering every inch of skin, leaving impressions that would stick in Mel’s mind for a long time. 

Mel couldn’t stop raking her hands through his hair, studying the way he groaned or bit her lip when she tugged just enough. She was amazed by the sounds he was making; unreal, special sounds that were just for her cascaded through his lips, landing against her own. Mel tried to catalogue them in her mind, saving them for later.

Through kisses and heavy breathing, Mel managed to gasp out one question: “D’you want to go upstairs?” 

She felt his smile grow against her lips.

“Yeah?”

She nodded, fisting the collar of his shirt.

“Yeah.”

He wasted no time in hiking her legs around his waist, hoisting her up without breaking the kiss. Mel giggled as he careened up the stairs, clinging onto him and admiring the flex of his muscles as he carried her. Frank pushed open the door to her room with his foot, putting her down just beside her bed.

She pulled at the hem of his shirt, and he pulled back to oblige her. The view Mel was met with was better than she could have imagined: newly-toned muscle decorated with a smattering of chest hair.

“Have you been working out, Frank? Her voice came out breathier than she intended.

“What, like what you see?” He moved so that his lips were just barely hovering against hers.

“Mhm.”  She couldn’t look away from his eyes.

Frank teased at the hem of her shirt, pushing it up so he could rest his hands on her ribs. “Tell me what you like,” he dropped his mouth to her ear, “and I’ll take this off.”

“I like your hair, how it looks when you wake up or after a long shift.” He planted a kiss on her jawbone. “And I like how you look in your scrubs, how your arms pull at the sleeves, and how I can see a sliver of your skin when you raise your arms.” He moved to kiss down her neck. “And I love your eyes. I love how I can tell exactly what you're thinking just by looking into them.” 

He hummed against her skin and pulled her shirt up. She raised her arms so it could pass over her head. She heard a sharp breath leave Frank’s mouth, and when she looked at him, his eyes were darting back and forth from her eyes to her chest. At that moment she remembered she wasn’t wearing a bra, and was immensely grateful for the reaction it got from Frank.

“Tell me what you like, Frank.” She ran her hands up and down his arms, examining the curves of his musculature.

He huffed out a breath, then moved to close the gap between them again.

“I like everything , Melissa.” He rasped out.

Frank pushed her lightly until the back of her knees hit the edge of the bed. She sat back as he leaned forwards over her, bringing his lips back to meet hers in a slower, more gentle kiss. He moved his hands down to slide off her pants, so she lifted her hips and then dragged him with her until her head was resting on her pillows, kicking them the rest of the way off.

His hand he wasn’t propping himself up with was busy kneading her breast. Mel was clutching onto his shoulders, dragging the tips of her nails over his skin and relishing in the reactions she got: a bite on the lip, a brush of his thumb over her nipple, a rock of his hips against her own. He moved his hand down to toy with the hem of her underwear, then felt over the wet spot at her core. He groaned against her.

“Fuck me, Sweetheart.” He gasped out into her mouth. “Can I?”

“Yes—Yes, Frank. God.” Mel bucked against his hand, desperate for contact.

He pulled her underwear to the side, dipping into her wetness and circling around her entrance slowly. The whine she let out was almost unrecognizable even to her. Frank’s touch was light yet sure, moving with practiced fingers to the places she wanted him most. He slid so that he was laying beside her—his whole body pressed against her own, using his knee to keep her leg open—to get a better angle.

“I love it when you call me that.” She blurted out through her heady breathing. “S-sweetheart.”

“Yeah?” He plunged two fingers into her, his thumb finding her clit. “You like being my Sweetheart? My best girl?”

Mel just moaned, dropping her head back into the pillows. It was an incredibly surreal experience to have Frank saying these things to her. She had only ever heard them in her mind, it took effort for her to remember that it was real.

“Mel, Baby , you’re so fucking beautiful.” 

He wouldn’t stop whispering in her ear, speaking in tandem with the rhythm he was thrusting his fingers into her. The more he spoke, the closer to the edge Mel could feel herself getting. She tried to get more friction against his thumb, gripping his wrist and bucking up into his hand.

“So eager, so receptive. You’re so good, Mel, so good.” Frank planted a kiss on her jaw, keeping his pace steady. “Come on, Sweetheart.”

It was like her body couldn’t disobey his request, and after a couple more pumps she felt the knot come undone in her core. She let out a low, strangled noise, and Frank kissed it out of her. Her body was rocking back and forth on his fingers as he helped her ride out her orgasm.

She came back to her senses as he pulled his fingers up to his mouth.

“Oh.” Mel caught her breath, watching Frank intently. “Oh my God, Frank.”

“You okay?”

Oh, Mel was more than okay.

“Mm-hmm.” Was all she could muster.

She hooked her arm around his back, pulling him back over top of her and arching up into him, her lips connecting with his yet again.

“Off.” She tugged at the waist of his jeans.

Frank obliged, leaving her only the amount of time it took him to slide both his pants and underwear off in one swift motion. His body found hers again before she even had the chance to miss him. She clutched his shoulders and slung a leg over his hip, like she was trying to meld her body onto his. Desperate to close any distance between them.

“Condom?” Frank’s voice was breathy and low, Mel could tell he was getting impatient.

“No. I have an IUD.”

“What about?—”

“I’m clean, Frank.”

“Okay, okay, me too. And I do get screened after every sexual partner, which, to be honest, hasn't been relevant since Abby. But—”

“I’d like it if you would stop talking and fuck me now.”

“Yep, okay.”

Frank lined himself up, breathing hard into Mel’s ear as he dragged the tip of his cock up her folds. When he pressed into her, he let out the most delicious groan, one Mel did her best to commit to memory. She replied in kind with a high-pitched keen into him when he sunk all the way to the hilt.

They spent a precious moment just breathing with him inside her, their foreheads pressed together. Mel thought she could have stayed like that forever. And then he started rocking into her, and she was eternally grateful that they didn’t.

Mel loved that Frank liked to tell her how much he enjoyed her. He was always saying “God, Mel you feel so good,” or “you’re perfect, Sweetheart” with each one earning a louder moan from her in response. When he hit her sweet spot she dug her nails into his shoulders—apologizing internally—and he said, “Shit, Baby, that feels good?”

“Don’t stop.” She was mouthing at his neck, her voice muffled by the skin.

“I wouldn't have even thought about it.”

Frank held his pace steady, driving her towards another orgasm. He caged her in with his arms, like he was protecting her from anything happening outside of that moment. She could feel the bed shake from how hard he was rutting up into her, banging against the wall, and decided she would worry about the damage later.

When she was nearly there, Frank slid a hand down to her clit and she followed it with her gaze, mesmerised by the sight of his cock sliding in and out of her. And when she came, she could see her hips stutter against his just before she had to throw her head back to let out a silent cry of pleasure.

The hair at the nape of his neck was begging to be pulled, so she pulled it, willing him to cum inside her. It was like something was unlocked with him, as he held her hip down with one hand and fucked her with abandon, silent for the first time in the night. After a minute, Frank stilled inside her and came with a deep groan, kissing any skin he could get his mouth on.

After their breath had been regained, he slid over, laying beside her and rubbing circles on her abdomen with his thumb. She tucked her head in the crook of his shoulder; feeling tired and fucked-out, and really, very happy.

“I love you, you know.” She could feel his voice resonate through his chest: deep and steady.

All she could do was smile.

“I know.”

—

Frank glanced up from his cup of coffee across the ED, finding her gaze almost immediately. That always seemed to happen with them, intuitively knowing where the other one was and when they were looking. Mel’s deep brown eyes glinted as she gave him the most beautiful little smile over the top of a monitor. 

Dating Mel was surprisingly unremarkable. He started sleeping in her bed immediately after that first night, tangled together and breathing in sync. Other than that, it was basically the same as it had been before; it was even better, because they didn’t have the big question mark of their relationship looming over their heads.

The response from Becca was not what Frank had been expecting. He thought that she would have at least given them a big reaction, given that the two closest people in her life had gone through a big life change. Instead, they were met with an eye roll. “Huh, you guys finally figured that out? Well, good!” Then she laughed and put her movie back on the TV, sitting with Ivy in her lap and leaving Mel and Frank gobsmacked.

No one at work knew. They didn’t need to, not yet. Frank figured they only had a few weeks tops before it would become unavoidable, given the way they were knocking elbows and staring at each other. But he figured they might as well soak up the anonymity as long as they could, while it was still special and secret. He would probably tell McKay, Mel would tell Samira, and then the whole ED would magically know.

The biggest change for Frank was that he felt good, really good, for the first time in a long time. When he looked at Mel, or kissed her, or stood beside her, he felt giddy. His therapist would tell him to name the primary emotion, and he would land on happiness, not guilt, or disgust. Frank was glad that no matter what, he and Mel would get in the same car, and take the same route, to the same home, and eat the same food, at the same table, and fall asleep in the same bed wrapped in each other’s arms.

Maybe they were both selfish: Frank for wanting something he couldn’t have, and Mel for giving into it. Or maybe things just happened how they did, and that was it. Either way, Frank was glad the past year went how it did. It changed him—saved his life.

He finished his coffee and grabbed an iPad, checking the board before sidling up to Mel, blocking her view of the computer.

“Wanna come with me?”

“Always.”

Yeah, Frank thought, always .

—

“Went out walking just to see the sunrise

Stayed the same size, turned pink and orange