“If it makes you feel any better, you didn’t miss out on very much. Just a lot of dumb drinking games and dares. Got stuck upside down hanging from a tree once and I thought I was gonna have to spend the rest of life with the squirrels.” He’d been high that time, in the middle of the day after ditching school with a couple of old friends and they’d both laughed their asses off at him, letting him dangle for a bit before coming to his rescue. Steve hasn’t climbed a tree that out of it since.
“Thank god, I was scared I’d have to sleep in the bathtub.”
No one ever cares enough to ask Steve about his life, before or after leaving his hometown. Even back when he’d gotten along with everyone back home, people were more likely to ask him for a favor or use him as a listening ear than try to get to know him any better. This isn’t to say Steve had minded being of assistance at the time because he loves helping others. It’s only in moments like these that he realizes how sad it is, not to have made or kept any substantial friendships or connections with people his own age. Perhaps that’s why he’s growing to enjoy this lifestyle — being able to bounce from place to place and meet new people practically every other day. No one to attach himself to, no one to disappoint. Other than Harley, anyway.
“Uh, yeah. Indiana,” he repeats quietly. The question is unexpected. “Tiny town called Hawkins. Think a lot of people drive past it without even noticing it.” Which is just as well, with the things lurking below the town’s surface; quite literally sometimes. What happened? Steve shifts uncomfortably and fidgets with the cutlery again, gaze focused on the table. “I was still living at home, you know. Saving up money to move out. Came home after work one day and everything was fine, my parents were upstairs taking a nap since they’d gotten back from a trip to Seattle that morning. I fell asleep on the couch downstairs and when I woke up later the second floor was on fire. I couldn’t get to their room, it was that bad. Dunno what happened, but by the time the fire department got out there it was too late.”
Steve clears his throat. “A lot of people from Hawkins think I killed them. That I’m the one that started the fire, ‘cause when the cops got there I told them someone else had been in the house. But I couldn’t describe them, didn’t see ‘em or anything. Just… felt it. I know that sounds crazy. It’s what I felt, though. But who’s gonna believe that without feeling it themselves, ya know? Everyone would stare at me and whisper when I’d go get groceries or put gas in my car, and I just. I couldn’t do it anymore. So, yeah. Here I am. Kicking the shit out of things I thought were fucked up fairytales.” He chuckles but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, sounds more tired than anything. Recounting the tragedy is borderline therapeutic however, because in truth, Steve hasn’t told anyone else his side since he left home.
“Where are you from?” For all of his issues with clinging to those he’s known for more than a day, Steve has kept his distance in conversation with Harley. More for her sake than his really, not wanting her to annoy or scare her off.
She listened quietly as Steve spoke, recounting his tale of what happened back in Indiana to spur him into hunting. She couldn’t help but feel bad for him, no one should have to find their family gone, especially without a proper goodbye. She frowned when he mentioned people thought he could have done something like that, from what she had experienced with him so far, Steve wouldn’t hurt a fly. Unless, that fly was a supernatural creature...then there was cause to worry. “I’m sorry about your parents...”, she told him, her voice was softer than normal, her usual sarcastic tone had faded.
Her heart pounded in her chest some when he asked that question. Home was something she never talked about. She had only told a couple other people and that was like pulling teeth. She let out a deep sigh as she looked down at the silverware in front of her and unrolled it. “San Francisco. I haven’t been home since it happened.” She paused, debating whether to actually share her own horror or not. But her friend just shared his, maybe now it was time for her to open up too.
“I was 12. We had all gone to bed that night, it was a normal day, normal night but then someone broke in. Turned out to be one of my dad’s military buddies... no one knew it but the guy was a werewolf apparently, he was so far gone that night, there was no stopping him.” She felt her throat begin to burn with the emotion welling up inside her. Talking about this never seemed to get easier, but holding it in felt even worse, carrying that loss and survivor’s guilt around for years. “My brother hid me, I only walked away with some claw marks as a souvenir but I lost everything that night. My parents, my brother...just gone. Lost my grandmother not too long after that. Vampire that time.” She shook her head some and glanced out of the window again. “Been on my own ever since but...I keep going for them. Even if I don’t want to some days.”
The waitress walked over and placed their food and drinks on the table, giving both of them a smile and letting them know to alert her if she needed anything before she walked away. Harley cleared her throat a bit and picked up a fry. “Didn’t mean to kill the mood...”, she chuckled a bit. She hoped that after that admission, she didn’t run off the one person who she was just getting used to.
