chronically inactive

billy hargrove 

- late night talking 

- no one like you

- head over heels 

- heat of the moment

- better go 

- right down the line

eddie munson

- he’s so pretty 

- walking the world for you

- call me

jonathan byers 

- your love’s like witchcraft

steve harrington

- where is my mind? 

- talk too much

Argyle had teased him about getting involved with you. How you might put a spell on him, or something like that. All in good fun, though, since it was obvious to anyone around Jonathan that you made him incredibly happy. 

And if you had put some kind of enchantment on him, he wouldn’t mind. Laying with you in the post-sesh haze had him feeling so peaceful and content. He felt like he could lay here with you forever, legs haphazardly wrapped around each other with his arm running up and down the length of your back while you hummed a meaningless tune against his shoulder. 

Apparently he had been lost in thought too long, not realizing his eyes had been focused on your side profile. You, however, felt his gaze on you for a bit longer than usual and lifted your head from its position on his shoulder. 

“What?” You giggled at him, your infectious smile finding its way into his heart for the millionth time that day. 

“Nothing, sorry,” Jonathan shook his head a little, returning the soft smile as you folded your hands on his chest and rested your chin on them. You looked at him like he hung the stars in the sky, it made him stop breathing for a moment. “Just thinkin’.” 

“About what?” You inquired further. 

“You,” he hummed simply, leaning forward to kiss your forehead as blood rushed to your cheeks and you giggled softly. 

“Me? What for?” 

“What for?” He repeated back to you, looking incredulous. “You’re my girl, that’s what for. Am I not allowed?” He wound his arms tighter around your waist while he teased you and rolled the two of you over, causing you to squeal and erupt into another giggling fit. He hovered over you while he peppered light kisses all over your face and neck. 

Once you had caught your breath, you reached up and ran your fingers through his soft hair, smiling up at him. “I guess you’re allowed,” you answered, lifting your head slightly to kiss the tip of his nose in response to the barrage of affection he had just given you. “You always get so sappy when you’re high.” 

“Well, maybe it’s just because you’re around,” he quipped back at you, finally settling his weight down on you and resting his face in the crook of your neck while you continued to play with his hair. He shut his eyes, experiencing what he considered to be the height of comfort and warmth in your arms. “You do have that effect on me, you know.” 

“Oh, Billy,” you cooed, and his eyes averted your face and instead focused on the ring he had been twisting on his middle finger ever since he sat down. Like usual, he said nothing. He was always pretty silent after fights with Neil, you had learned. 

So you got to cleaning him up. Some disinfectant for his cut lip, some ice, the whole nine yards. Billy sat there patiently the whole time that you fussed over him, accustomed to the routine the two of you had developed from all the times he snuck in after a nasty bout with his father. After all the first aid stuff, three hours after the initial tumble, Billy’s shoulders had finally lost their tension and the two of you could be found laying together in bed to decompress.

That brings you to now. 

“So, do you finally want to talk about the fight?” You ask him while braiding and unbraiding one of his loose locks of hair, watching his relaxed face while his head lay in your lap. 

Billy’s eyes open with a heavy sigh, and you let his hair fall from your fingers as he uses an elbow to perch himself up to face you. “It’s not like it was anything different than usual. I was covering for Max, because she wanted to go hang out with her friends. Something about a roleplaying board game?” He looks at you, half expectanting you to know what he was trying to come up with. 

“D&D?” You offer, and he nods. 

“Yeah, that shit.” He waves a hand in the air before continuing. “But Neil had a bug up his ass tonight, demanded to know where she was. I said I didn’t know, because I didn’t want him to pull up at Wheeler house like a fuckin’ psychopath.” He pauses, then says a little quieter. “So I got the psychopath treatment.” 

You hum comfortingly and lean forward to press a comforting kiss to his forehead. “I’m sure she appreciates you covering for her.” You whisper, and he presses his lips together in a dry smile. “Was she home when you left?” 

“No, no, I thought I would see her on the drive over but I didn’t. Figured if she was still at the Wheeler’s this late then she would stay the night.” He explains, and the logic gives both of you comfort for about five more minutes, until there’s another noise outside your window. It’s left slightly open from Billy’s oh-so-graceful entrance, and he’s up in half a second to investigate the potential threat from outside. 

You get up as well, and push at his shoulder so he’s seated on the bed again. “Relax, it’s probably just a stray cat at the bottom of the ladder.” Still, you move to the window to peek out at the bottom, and you’re shocked to see red hair, and an even brighter red hoodie, halfway up to your window. You push the bottom open the rest of the way and stick your head out. “Max?” 

Billy gets up behind you as soon as Max looks up to meet your eyes in the dim light that comes from your bedroom. “Jesus christ, Max, get up here.” He urges from your side, helping her in while you stand back and out of the way. The two of you share a look while Max sits cross legged on the floor, wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her hoodie. 

“Hey, what happened?” You sit in front of her while Billy shuts the window and stands awkwardly nearby. She’s quiet except for sniffling, so you reach forward to move her hair away from her face. She lets you, but the action reveals a slightly faded but still very fresh red mark taking up the junction of her cheek. “Oh, honey,” you whisper, and she turns her head away from your hand, just like Billy used to before he got used to your gentle touch. “Let me get some more ice.”

You push yourself up to stand and catch sight of Billy’s faraway gaze, eyes looking somewhere that you can’t see. Probably seeing red at the idea of Neil putting his hands on Max, and you can’t really blame him. Calling his attention back to the present with a hand on his cheek, you whisper to him. “Just talk to her.” 

He nods and you wait for him to take your seat in front of her before heading downstairs for an ice pack. You take your time, getting a cloth to wrap the ice pack in and a few bandaids from the downstairs bathroom cabinet. You didn’t see any open cuts or scratches on her but it would be better to have them if she needed them. You pass by the laundry room then stop, backtracking to go in and grab some comfy clothes of yours out of the dryer for her to change into. It would be more comfortable than whatever she biked here in. 

Before you push your bedroom door back open, you pause to hear the soft conversation taking place on the other side. 

“Why didn’t you call me here?” Billy’s voice comes out softly. 

“I don’t know. Didn’t think, I just knew you would be here and I didn’t wanna be there,” you heard Max mumble, she sounds embarrassed. “‘M sorry.” 

You hear shifting, probably Billy moving closer to her. “It’s okay, I didn’t know you were goin’ home. Thought you were staying overnight with your friends. I’m sorry I wasn’t there.” There’s a pause before Billy speaks again. “D’you wanna stay the night here? With us?” 

Max doesn’t say anything right away, but the quiet “thanks” that you hear cinforms that she had said yes. Quietly, you finally push open the door and offer a soft smile when both siblings turn to look up at you from their spots on the floor. “I got you an ice pack, and some clothes. Something easier to sleep in.” You hold up the items to show her, and she gives you a small, yet grateful smiles 

-

After you get Max patched up, like you had with Billy, she comes out of the bathroom and back into your room in the clothes you lent her. You and Billy are sitting together on the bed, him behind you with his chin resting in the spot where your neck and shoulder meet and one arm half secured around your waist. 

“Hey, how do you feel now?” You ask her, patting the open spot on your comforter beside you. She takes a seat, legs tucked to the side and leaning sideways on her arm. 

“Better,” she says with a little nod, looking shier than she normally does. “Thank you.” 

“Don’t worry about it, I let him in so obviously I’ll let you in, too.” You grin and jab your thumb behind you where Billy sits clinging to your back, making Max giggle. Billy pinches your side and causes you to yelp, which turns into a fit of giggles along with Max’s. You fall forward out of Billy’s grasp and he lets you, unable to hold back the smile that finds its way onto his face as he watches you two lose your breath over laughing at each other. 

The rest of the night is filled with antics like that. You ended up putting on some music to show Max, which became an impromptu dance party. Billy initially refused to join, saying he wasn’t going to dance to Madonna, until both you and his sister pouted at him, so he was forced to join. The sight of him being forced to dance (if you could call the half-assed movement dancing) to such peppy, girly music was so amusing that you wish you had a camera to capture it. Then there was a brief comic tour when Max caught sight of a Wonder Woman volume sitting on your bookshelf, and Billy was grateful to be allowed to sit back and chill again. 

Max fell asleep on the far right side of your bed while the two of you were laying on your stomachs and flipping through the pages of the comics you had pulled out. You realized she had been silent for a little too long, and carefully pulled the volume that was held loosely in her hand so you could put them all away. After flicking off the overhead light and placing the comics back where they belong in your bookshelf, you return to Billy’s side in bed, where he had sat leaning back against the headboard and watching you move around the room in the dim lamplight from your nightstand. 

“Thank you for letting her stay here tonight, I’ll make it up to you,” he mumbles against your skin before pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder and tugging you closer to fall into his side. 

“You don’t have to, it’s nice having both of you here. I wish it was under better circumstances though.” You shut your eyes in the comfort of the warmth that seems to radiate off Billy. “I hope she’ll be okay in the morning.” 

He gives a small hum of agreement before glancing over at where Max was fast asleep. “I think she’ll be alright. I’ll take y’all to lunch tomorrow before I bring her home. Neil shouldn’t be back until later tomorrow night.” You peer back up at him with a tiny smile. 

“Look at you, being a good brother and boyfriend and shit,” you tease. 

He chuckles and gives you a soft squeeze. “Gotta lookout for my girls. Especially because they lookout for me.” 

“He’s just… mean,” Nancy comments to you while walking out of class, after watching you and Billy part ways so he could get his things from his locker. She looks like she wants to come up with another descriptor, but fails to. You offer a heavy sigh and a shrug, and before you can respond, she keeps going. “I mean, I know you say that he’s different to you and whatever. And if you’re happy, then I’m happy for you, I just… I don’t know.” She shakes her head, mostly at herself.

“Well, I am happy, Nance,” you smile at her as the two of you cross through the main doors of the school and into the parking lot. Whatever Nancy opens her mouth to say is cut off by Steve’s car screeching into the parking lot and calling everyone’s attention to it.

“He drives like a maniac,” you comment lightly, nudging Nancy with your elbow. “So does yours,” she teases before going to meet Steve at whatever spot he had haphazardly pulled into. You wave a goodbye to her before scanning the lot to see where Billy’s distinguishable blue Camaro was and head over to wait for him. 

After only a few minutes of leaning against the hood and picking at the dead skin by your nails, you feel a pair of arms around your waist and a heavy head resting on your shoulder. Billy lets out a low chuckle at the way you jump from surprise, and kisses your cheek to soothe the shock. “Nancy giving you a hard time about me again?” His voice is characteristically rough as he opens the passenger door for you. 

“She means well,” is your way of saying yes, smiling at him while you haul your bag to rest in between your knees as you situate yourself in the passenger seat. The door shuts beside you and you watch him round the front of the car to get in the driver's side. “In her defense,” you continue, “you do act like an ass most of the time.” 

“But not to you,” he grins comically wide, and you return the gesture with a poke to his upper arm. 

“You wouldn’t dare.” 

The playful smile on Billy’s face drops when he catches sight of Max skating down the connecting road between Hawkins High and Hawkins Middle. His eyes flicker down to the clock on the dash to confirm she’s already running five minutes behind schedule. 

You let your hand fall from where it was resting on his bicep and just observe, expecting him to try and keep it cool this time around, since you’re constantly reminding him to be nicer, especially to Max. Your head turns to the backseat when Max opens the door behind Billy’s, setting her skateboard and bag on the narrow floor space between the seats. 

“Hey, Max,” you smile at her, and she gives you a little smile to return the greeting. You and Max had gotten along well even before your thing had started with Billy, since you had seen her around the Wheeler house when you would be hanging out with Nancy. She had told you once or twice that she couldn’t imagine what someone like you would want with her brother, but she was glad you stuck around. 

Billy didn’t turn to look at Max as she shut the door behind her, glancing up to catch a glimpse of her in the rearview before turning his eyes straight forward again. “Max, what did I tell you about being late?” His voice is cold, a stark contrast from how he was speaking to you earlier. 

Max mumbles something about being held up by Mike ‘talking out of his ass again’ and she had lost track of time. You give her an apologetic smile when she looks to you for help, but that seems to backfire. 

“Don’t fuckin’ look at her, I told you not to be late this week, it’s a pain.” Billy snaps, and Max turns her head down to her lap and apologizes. 

“Billy,” you turn your gaze back to him, voice firm. “You just got in the car, she’s not that late.” He stays silent while you scold him. “You don’t have to yell at her all the time, you said you would quit doing that.” 

Billy sighs, and the sound is punctuated by the ignition starting while he chews in the inside of his cheeks. “Sorry, kid.” He glances over his shoulder at Max before focusing his attention on backing out of the spot to drive you both home. 

Max looks up from her lap, eyes shifting back and forth between you and Billy, who isn’t paying attention anymore. “‘S’okay,” she manages, and you smile at her. You’ve had a few long talks with Billy about his relationship (or lack thereof) with Max and you know that he actually cares more than he lets on. He’s just rough around the edges, so he needs a few reminders to not be such a hardass by nature. And you’re the only one he’ll listen to because you don’t yell at him or call him a dick, at least not maliciously. 

“Thanks, Billy, for humoring me,” you whisper to him, reaching over to play with a loose curl that hangs by his ear while he drives. Your touch relaxes him, and you both know it. He just shakes his head at you and bites back a smile. 

“You’re such a baby,” she pouts, and the expression looks so out of place on her that you have to laugh. “It doesn’t even have to be matching, you could get something super small!” 

“Oh my god, fine, I’ll go.” You surrender, and Robin immediately sits back up with a wide grin. “If it means you’ll stop pugging me about it. I’ll get like… a flower or something.” 

She blows a raspberry at your basic choice, and you throw a pillow at her face with a laugh. “I can help you come up with something more creative, don’t worry.” She assures you through giggles and you roll your eyes at her. 

“Whatever, asshole. Go to bed.” 

The next morning when Robin excitedly shakes you awake for breakfast, you remember your frustrated agreement to get a tattoo with her. And you knew that she wasn’t going to let you live it down.

-

“How are you so energetic this early in the morning?” You tease as she fixes her hair in the passenger mirror of your car. “I’m just excited that you came around. And don’t worry, I know this guy and he’s super cool. Well, not super cool but you won’t be nervous around him or anything. He’s chill and used to play D&D with the kids and he’s really nice.” Her rambling only stops when she takes a bobby pin out of her hair and holds it in her mouth for easy access, but then she’s back on her word vomit again, just slightly hindered by the pin  held between her teeth. “He actually might still play, I’ll have to ask Steve. He had this club and everything for it in high school, kind of a huge nerd and outcast. But he’s so nice, I swear.” She only stops when you pull into the parking lot of the tattoo parlor, and she’s grinning from ear to ear.

“What’s this guy’s name?” You ask, suddenly interested in an attempt to calm your nerves.“Eddie,” she answers easily while getting out of the car. “We met through a series of outlandish circumstances,” for once she doesn’t elaborate and just shuts the car door to punctuate her sentence. Here we go, you think to yourself.

The inside of the shop was actually a lot less intimidating than you pictured, and though it did very little to affect your nerves, you feel slightly more comfortable in the atmosphere than you imagined you would. There was some heavy metal record playing in the back of the room at a low volume, and each of the stalls was decorated to the individual artist’s taste. The exposed brick walls were lit with warm toned studio-esque light fixtures, and the hardwood floor was immaculately clean, which you took as a good sign considering the level of sterility needed for this sort of thing. 

While you were taking in your surroundings, Robin was at the front counter reconnecting with who you assumed must be Eddie, the friend she had told you about mere moments before. She saw that your attention had been diverted from the interior of the building and beckoned you closer. “This is Eddie,” she introduced with a knowing smirk. 

“Hey, Robin told me you were a little nervous.” The smile he gives you is so subtle, but it makes you lock your knees in fear of them going weak. You manage to offer him a small smile in return and collect your thoughts well enough to respond. 

“I’ve never done this before,” you explain, and the sound of his soft laugh makes your face heat up. You can tell he isn’t laughing at you, though, and his level of understanding is actually very soothing. His level of attractiveness is what’s causing you trouble now. Robin can tell what’s got you shifting in your place, and she clears her throat to call your attention away from Eddie with that same smirk from before. 

“Well you two have fun, I’ll see you on the other side,” she says in feign ominosity before going to one of the empty stalls that she was called to. 

You roll your eyes at her before turning your attention back to Eddie, who seemingly hasn’t taken his eyes off you. The thought makes you shy once again, and he says, “Let’s go, princess,” before leading you back to the furthest back area, right by the record player you spotted earlier. He notices you standing awkwardly by it. 

“Sorry, I can turn that down,” he offers and moves to adjust the volume dial without waiting for your response. 

“No, it’s okay, I just haven’t heard this song before,” you explain, and he flashes you one of those butterfly-inducing smiles again. 

“I get that a lot,” Eddie says simply before patting the leather bench in front of him. “Have a seat.” He turns his back to you and grabs a hair tie from the table in the corner, tying most of his curly hair in a low ponytail to get it out of the way. “So, what are we doing today?” 

You realize when he turns back around that you’ve been staring at him, and you blank for a second before stumbling over your words to answer him. “Um, I was going to get a, uh, rose. Like this big,” holding your fingers about three inches apart to demonstrate the size. You’re suddenly embarrassed at how generic it is, but Eddie just reaches for a binder and flips through it for a second before handing it to you at an open design. “Like that?” He questions, leaning back against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. You examine the design before nodding. It was surprisingly delicate in comparison to the rest of his vibe, but the style fits the charming and sweet demeanor he’s shown you so far. It’s the exact size you showed him, with fine lines that you think wouldn’t take too long to sit for if it was too painful. “Yeah, this is perfect.” 

At your approval, Eddie nods and takes the binder back from you, sliding the design you both agreed on out of its page protector and tracing over it on a more transparent paper. You’re absolutely enamored with him and the way he moves, shrugging off his slightly worn demin jacket to have more freedom of mobility. The muscles in his forearms flex slightly as he sketches, bent over on his elbows to get a steady and precise outline. A few strands escape from his haphazardly done ponytail and fall around his face to frame it, prompting him to blow out the side of his mouth to get them out of the way. 

By the time he stands upright again, which is only about five minutes, you’re even more flustered than before. You make a resolve with yourself that you won’t stare anymore, instead focusing on the wall so you don’t come off as a creep. This resolve proves to be even harder than you thought, because the second you commit to it, he’s asking where you want the tattoo. You point to the front of your shoulder, a few inches above your bicep if your arm was fully relaxed by your side. Then he’s cleaning the area with a rubbing alcohol wipe and applying the template he had just sketched out, much like a temporary tattoo. 

The whole time, you’re holding your breath as his fingers graze your skin and leave a trail of goosebumps in their wake. You glance back down at him, and see his tongue poking out from the side of his lips as he focuses, causing you to giggle. 

The sound catches his attention and his eyes snap back up at you before realizing what you’re laughing at, and chuckling out an apology. “Sorry, it’s an unconscious habit.”

You shake your head at him. “Don’t be sorry, it’s kinda cute.” Oh my god oh my god I just said he was cute, you think, but you’re comforted by the fact you can’t get any more flustered than you already are. However, seeing his eyes avoid yours as he clears his throat as his cheeks tint almost imperceptibly pink just proves you wrong.

He talks to you about what he’s doing when he preps the ink and everything else, but your brain is elsewhere as you watch his fingers move so deftly with the tools in front of him. Then, he looks back up at you to make sure you understand, and your eyes widen in panic for a second before scrambling to confirm that you heard him (which you didn’t). 

Eddie just gives you an amused chuckle before moving towards you to start the tattoo itself. “Just relax, let me know if it bothers you too much and I can stop. Okay?” You nod, actually hearing him this time and he sits down on the chair in front of the bench. 

As the needle buzzes, you squeeze the edge of the leather beneath you, but it isn’t as bad as you thought it would be. It’s like a sting, a continuous one, but it’s not something that’s unbearable. Eddie looks up at you through his lashes as he pauses to replenish the ink. “Doing okay up there?” 

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just getting used to it.” You assure, though it comes out a bit breathless. He smiles at you anyways and tells you, “You’re doing great,” before continuing. Oh, he has to know what he’s doing at this point. 

The whole thing is over before you know it, and you’re actually kind of upset that you don’t get to sit this close to him anymore. Your skin feels like it’s on fire, but you’re not sure if it’s from his praise, his touch, or the needle itself. Could be a combination of all three, honestly. 

Eddie gives you the spiel on tattoo aftercare and hands you a sample size of the ointment he recommends for when it starts peeling and itching. “And it will itch,” he promises. “Don’t scratch at it, or else you might peel some of it off. Can you do that for me?” 

It takes everything in you to respond normally, nodding at him for what seems like the thousandth time in the past hour. “Yeah, sounds good.” He smiles and tells you that you’re all set, sending you on your way to the front of the building, where Robin is waiting for you. 

She’s grinning from ear to ear as she holds her wrist out to you to show you what she got. “Show me yours!” She asks excitedly with a little bounce in her step and you move your sleeve to the side to show off the rose. “How was it?” 

“Not bad at all, really,” you admit while walking out to the car. “You were right, he is super sweet.” 

She grins at you, “See, I told you.” You roll your eyes at her gloating as she continues speaking.  

You take the ointment out of your pocket to put in your bag, but then you catch sight of something written on the back. Robin’s words die mid-sentence as she watches you read, but you weren’t even listening. Taped on the back of the bottle is a piece of paper with Eddie’s number, and a smiley face. 

“Well, as your friend and the guy you’re fucking, I’m saying that I don’t like the idea of you getting drunk around a bunch of scumbags,” his voice is filled with venom as he forces the words out through clenched teeth. 

“Well,” you mock his tone, “I don’t remember asking your opinion of my plans with friends.” You hold both your fists out towards him with your wrists turned up, “Why don’t you just handcuff me to your side if you’re so concerned about what I’m up to?” 

His knuckles turn white as his hand tightens on the steering wheel, refusing to look over at your mocking display. “God, you’re such an instigating bitch sometimes, no wonder your dad didn’t stick around for you.” Billy knows he fucked up as soon as the words leave his mouth, and even more so when all he hears from you is silence. A glance out of the side of his peripheral shows him that you’ve gone stone quiet, staring straight through the windshield. 

“Let me out of the car,” is the first thing he hears from you, quiet and strained. If he didn’t know better, it would’ve sounded like a threat. 

“Babe-” he tries, but is immediately interrupted. 

“Stop the fucking car or I swear to god, Billy,” You’re louder this time, so he pulls over to the side of the road and stops the car with a lurch. The vehicle isn’t even in park before you’re grabbing your bag and unbuckling your seatbelt. 

“Hey listen, I-” he reaches over to grab your arm to stop you from leaving, but you pull away from his grasp faster than he can blink. Then you’re slamming the car door behind you with a parting “fuck you” before walking the rest of the way to your house. He’s dumbfounded, watching you stomp away and down the street. 

You don’t hear anything behind you while he’s frozen in confusion, then you hear what you can assume is him hitting the dashboard in frustration before he yells, “Jesus fuckin’ christ!” followed by the screech of his tires as he reverses and drives the opposite direction. You shake your head at his outburst, you’ve had enough of him lately because he’s been such a hot headed control freak. More so than usual. 

However, by the time you get home and finally collapse on your bed, you’re wiping some runaway tears from your cheeks with the back of your hand. His words cut deep, and he definitely knew that they would. You’d confided in him about being raised by just your mom since you were young, and how you felt both angry and sad about your father’s absence. And he didn’t have any room to talk about parents, especially with the way his dad was, but you would’ve never said something like that to him. Fuck him, you think to yourself as you wipe the last tears from your eyes, before they even get the chance to fall. What a fucking asshole.

While you make a resolve with yourself to stop associating with Billy, he’s drowning out a cacophony of conflicting thoughts with some of the loudest music his neighborhood has ever heard. He knows what he said was totally uncalled for, but you wouldn’t even let him apologize? What else was he supposed to do? He reasons all of this with himself while using some of his heightened energy to work out with the bar in his living room. 

Whatever, his internal monologue continues throughout his reps, she was just a routine fuck. I can find another girl just like her. Maybe even better. Billy makes the assumption that you’re never going to speak to him again, and forces a mask of indifference over the loss he doesn’t want to feel. 

Over the next week, though, Billy is unexpectedly affected by your apathy towards him. He doesn’t show it outwardly, at least he thinks he doesn’t, but he has subtle tells that your friends notice and share with you when they ask about what happened. He’s not nearly as mouthy and cruel with other people as he normally would be, and he isn’t even talking to the people that would be considered his ‘friends,’ if it was even accurate to say that he had friends.

“He just pushed me too far, I don’t want to talk about it.” Is what you said to anyone that asked why you two weren’t talking anymore, you just don’t want to recount your personal business to everyone, especially because you felt stupid and embarrassed for thinking that Billy would treat you any differently than he did anyone else. However, your self-isolation from him didn’t stop you from picking up on his mood changes. You wanted to say something to him so badly, to try to sort the whole thing out and give him the chance to apologize, but your feelings and pride were still recovering. So you had to force yourself to look the other way whenever he gave a distant shrug when someone would ask him what his problem was. 

At the end of that week was the party that started this whole ordeal, and you pushed away any guilt about Billy’s sadness in order to go out and properly enjoy the evening. The party was at your friend’s boyfriend’s cousin, who you didn’t know at all. But you didn’t need to, because you were going with your small group and you needed to get drunk and feel like a stupid teenager tonight. 

“Are you going to try to hook up with anyone tonight?” Your friend asks from your bed while watching you try to pick out an outfit. 

“Maybe,” you hum noncommittally. “I’m not really thinking about that, I just want to have a good time.” 

“And you’re not thinking about Billy at all? What if he’s there?” You snort at her hypothetical. 

“He won’t be.” 

And you’re right. Once you get to the house the next town over, the party is in full swing 

and Billy is nowhere to be found. The whole place looked like it was overflowing, with people inside squished against each other like sardines while others sought out space to act like fools in the front and back yards. Perfect. 

You had told your mother that you were staying the night at a friend’s house, so you have every intention tonight of getting fucked up and passing out on the lawn or in the living room somewhere. You would deal with figuring out how to get home later. 

As you got several shots deep to catch up with everyone else at the party, Billy sat at home, lamenting. This sort of thing was unusual for him, especially on a Saturday night, but he didn’t have the motivation to go out and socialize with people he barely liked anyways. His pity party had only gotten worse as the week came to an end, realizing that he had really fucked up. 

He hadn’t realized how much he depended on your presence, not just for sex, but even for comfort. He would often call you when things went south with his father to take his mind off everything, asking if you wanted to go for a drive with him. Even though he didn’t want to admit it, Billy felt terribly alone without you. 

His depressive thoughts were interrupted by the shrill ringing of the phone outside his bedroom door, and seeing as he was the only one home, he had to go out and answer it. “Hello?” His tone was dry and impatient, trying to get the point across that he wasn’t in the mood to chit chat with whoever was on the other end of the line. 

“Billy?” His attention was caught by the sound of Harrington’s voice on the other end of the line. “I don’t know where you are tonight but I’ve got your girl here in my car, she’s had way too much tonight and I can’t find any of her friends.” 

A hot spark of jealousy runs through Billy’s veins at the thought of you being with Harrington, until the rest of Steve’s words register with him. You’re drunk, and most likely passed out, without anyone to look after you. “Yeah, I’ll be there in a few.” He mumbles before ending the call without a goodbye. 

It took another 15 minutes before Billy’s car came roaring into view as you sat on the front porch steps with Steve. He was forcing you to drink water so you wouldn’t throw up, but you weren’t having it. 

“Hey,” Billy calls, approaching you and holding out a hand to help you up. You whine and begrudgingly accept it, doing your best in your incapacitated state to glare at Steve. “I didn’t know you called him, you’re mean.”

Steve ignores your pout and instead hands Billy the remainder of the water bottle you’d been nursing. “Thanks for calling me, man,” Billy nods at Steve while winding an arm around your waist to support you, which is received with your head on his shoulder in an effort to get closer to him, despite your initial contempt at his arrival. He takes advantage of your compliance to get you into the car without much protest so he can bring you back home. 

“Not my home,” you mumble to him when he starts driving, causing him to look over at you. 

“What’s that, princess?” 

“Not my home,” you say a little louder, “They don’t know I went out and they’re gonna be mad at me.” Billy just nods and lets you doze off for the rest of the car ride. After he quietly pulls back into his own driveway, he successfully manages to carry you inside without waking you up and sets you on his bed. 

He lets out a deep sigh while looking over your sleeping form, pulling your shoes off and covering you with the one blanket you always use whenever you would come over. There’s not much else he can do for you tonight, he realizes, and makes himself as comfortable as he can on the floor for the night. He just hopes you aren’t even more mad at him when you wake up. 

-

You feel your headache the next morning before you even get the chance to open your eyes and figure out where you are. Rolling over with a groan, you can squint them open just enough to see a glass of water and a bottle of tylenol on the nightstand beside you. Well I’m definitely not in the front yard, you decide while sitting up and taking a few pills to soothe the throbbing in your head. 

At the same time, Billy walks back in with wet hair and wearing comfy clothes, having clearly just come out of the shower. When you see him, you remember bits and pieces of the night before, including Steve calling Billy to pick you up despite your protests. “Oh, hey. Good morning,” he sounds shy, like he’s scared of your response to him. He never sounds like that. 

“Hey,” you mumble, suddenly embarrassed to find yourself in his bed, even though this isn’t even close to the worst thing you’ve done here. You’re hyper aware of how uncomfortable and revealing your outfit from last night is. “Do you… happen to have clothes I could borrow?” He nods almost immediately and goes over to his drawers to pull out a few options for you, causing you to giggle at his sudden sense of urgency. “Thanks,” your voice comes out as a near whisper as you stand to take a shirt from his hands, and he says something along the lines of ‘no problem’ before going outside the door so you can change. 

“I’m all done,” you call softly once you’re dressed, comfortable both from the soft, oversized material and from the smell of him surrounding your senses. Billy carefully steps back in, shutting the door behind him once he looks up and confirms that you’re fully clothed. “Why so quiet?” You ask, sitting on the edge of the bed and patting the spot next to you. 

He accepts the gesture and sits beside you, chewing the inside of his cheek. “I don’t want to say something out of line again,” he admits, not looking you in the eyes. “That was… really fucked up. And I’m sorry.” He pauses, like he’s debating his next words. “And I missed you.” 

Your face flushes as you listen to him, this is honestly the most sincere he’s sounded in the whole time you’ve known him. “I think you picking me up last night makes up for it,” you giggle, and the light sound gives him the courage to finally look up at you. “I’m still a little mad at you, but the normal amount.”

He pretends to think about your ruling for a moment before deciding, “That’s fair.” His smile finally mirrors yours. “Next time I say some shit like that, just smack me?” He offers, and you shake your head. 

“I’m not that cruel.” You say, leaning him to give him a soft kiss on the cheek and resting your head on his shoulder. “You smell really nice, by the way.”

Billy pulls you closer with an arm around your shoulders, chuckling at your words. “Whatever works, as long as it’s enough for you to put up with me,” he kisses the crown of your head. 

Though, when he didn’t have the music on, that meant you could hear every vulgar interaction between him and his father, who had a tendency to argue when most of the world was asleep. With the two things compared, you would have to say you preferred the music. 

The worst part, though, was how nasty he was all the time. Due to the close proximity both in distance and age, one would assume that the two of you would at least be acquaintances. In reality, Billy acted like you didn’t even exist. You assumed it was because he didn’t consider you to be “his type,” which made sense because you weren't even your own type. 

The whole straight-A student, church girl thing was just to appease your parents. You really wanted to act out, listen to the music that your dad would have deemed ‘satanic’ and wear the clothes that your mom considered ‘whorish.’ Instead, you were raised with strict rules and high expectations to meet, so you fell into the role that was carved out for you without much protest. You just had one more year to go though, before going to college, hopefully several states away, and finally expressing yourself properly. 

It was just unfortunate that Billy didn’t even glance at you, because he was exactly your type. Rough around the edges, kind of mean, and he gave off a dangerous energy. But you occasionally saw when he would bring home his nightly girl, and they were never the same as the personality you projected publicly. So you gave up before even trying to pursue it, you were going to get out of Hawkins soon anyways. 

Despite the watchful eye of your overbearing parents, you were still able to microdose little bits of rebellion here and there. You often smoked out your bedroom window, hiding your cigarettes and lighter in one of the throw pillows by your headboard. You also kept some of the ‘whorish’ clothes you owned in a garbage bag in the back of your closet, for whenever your friends wanted to go out. Friends that your parents didn’t know about, of course. They’d burst a blood vessel if they knew you were sneaking out late at night instead of tucked in bed with the lights out by 9 p.m. 

One of these nights that you were sneaking out was when Billy caught you, startled by a noise outside his drawn-shut curtains. With your body half out of the window, you turn abruptly to meet his eyes, and you’re relieved that it’s just him. Even though he had never acknowledged your presence before, something in you knew he wasn’t going to snitch on you, not when he did things way worse on a more regular basis. Still, you hold your finger up to your lips in a ‘shh’ gesture before jumping down to the ground and pulling the first-story window shut behind you. 

Billy watches in confusion as you give him an uncharacteristically cheeky wave before rounding the back of your house to god knows where. He’s perplexed, and very intrigued. He’s never seen you in that kind of nature, but now he starts to reconsider things. Watching you sneak out contradicts everything he assumed about you, and the curveball you’d just thrown was actually really attractive to him. He’d have to pay closer attention to you from now on. 

From that point on, it’s actually a lot easier for him to observe your rebellious tendencies, but that’s only because you don’t bother trying to hide them from him. You actually start to chat with him while smoking out your window, and it doesn’t take long until you’re bumming cigarettes off him when you were out and hadn’t snuck out to get more in a while. He lends out some of his mixtapes to listen to when you’re home alone, a gesture that surprises both of you. Whenever you give them back, you make the promise to make him a mixtape in return at some point, even though both of you know how unlikely that is.

On the flip side of that, you end up lending him your notes when his grades start to slip, therefore saving him from the wrath of his father. He’s grateful, and shows it in his own weird way by not being a complete asshole to you, which is all you really need in return. 

You still don’t interact with one another at school, which is probably for the best. While people probably wouldn’t think twice about Billy chatting up any of the girls he sees, it would definitely raise some eyebrows if you two were publicly as friendly as you are in private. So he respects the reputation you feel the need to uphold, which wasn’t terribly difficult. The whole ‘forbidden flirtation’ thing you two had going on was a little addicting, very Romeo and Juliet-esque. 

One night, though, a tap outside his window catches his attention, and he opens the curtains to see you standing outside the house patiently, face lit up when he pushes the window up. “What’s up tonight, babe?” He leans on one arm as he greets you. 

“My plans fell through tonight, but I’m already dressed. Wanna go out?” You ask, rocking back and forth on the balls of your feet. 

He pretends to consider it before giving you one of his mischievous smiles. “Depends, is this you asking me on a date?” 

Your face flushes in the sparse light coming from his room. “Sure, if you drive.”

His eyes flash with an excitement that anyone else wouldn’t have noticed. “Alright, give me five minutes and I’ll meet you by my car,” you give him an ‘okay’ before he shuts the window again, fixing his hair and giving himself an extra spritz of cologne before going out to his driveway. You’re already in the passenger seat when he sees you. 

“You gotta start locking your car,” you chide at him as he joins you, to which he rolls his eyes. 

“Get your license and then I’ll listen to your shit, babe.” You stick your tongue out at him as he pulls away from your neighborhood. 

After driving around for a little bit, the two of you end up at Lover’s Lake, sitting on the hood of the car with Billy rifling through his backseat to get some smokes for the two of you before he climbs up to join you. 

“Aw, you got my favorite kind,” you say as he hands you one. “I thought you hated these.” 

“I’ve come around to them,” he says simply as you lean forward for him to light the end of the cigarette that hangs from your lips. You’re suddenly hyper aware of how close you are to him, and how intimate the exchange is.

Likewise, Billy finds himself staring at your features as you pull away and take your first drag, blowing the smoke out the side of your mouth and away from him. Without thinking about it, his fingers deftly pluck the cigarette from your lips before replacing it with his own, opposite hand coming up to your cheek mid-kiss. 

He pulls away first, taking a drag off the cigarette he just stole from you with a smirk. “These do still taste like shit, by the way,” he quips before giving it back to you. 

You giggle at him, “So you’re a liar.” He simply hums at your accusation. “Did you get these just for me, then?” 

“So what if I did?” He says with a knowing smile, leaning back on the windshield to look back up at the stars. “Maybe I like to see my girl smile, is that a crime?” 

“Your girl?” You question him, and he glances back over at you. 

“Yeah, if you want,” he shrugs, but you both know that he cares far more than he’s letting on. Obviously your answer is a yes, but you still decide to tease him a little. 

“I’ll have to think about it,” you say as you adjust to lean back beside him. 

Billy’s shoulders shake with a quiet laugh, turning his head to look at you. “Yes or no, babe?”

All it took was going to Family Video downtown and picking up the movie your mother had requested for the film night she had planned. That shouldn’t be too hard, right? That’s what you thought, anyways, before you walk in and see none other than King Steve behind the counter. 

His expression drops when he turns around to greet whoever has just entered, mouth going dry when he sees you. Oh shit. He hadn’t seen you in almost two years. His senses are flooded with memories of you, and he’s suddenly remembering exactly why he needed to forget you in the first place. The emotions that accompanied seeing you hit him like an 18-wheeler. Still, he musters up an uncharacteristically soft, “Hey, when did you get back in town?” 

You shake off your initial surprise and then mentally scold yourself for still being affected by his presence. It had been too long for that, you shouldn’t still have a soft spot for him. “Last week, I’m here all summer,” you respond, making awkward small talk. The silence is penetrable as it hangs over you both, before you work up the courage to clear your throat and ask, “How are things with you and Nancy?” 

He looks embarrassed, glancing down at his hands where they rest on the counter before replying, “She broke up with me a few months after we got together, I deserved it.” He smiles uncomfortably, like he’s talking about how things ended with both you and Nancy. Ironic.

“Oh, sorry for bringing it up,” you say honestly, you really didn’t mean to throw stones at him. You realize you’ve been fixed standing by the door for way too long, so you pull your gaze away from him to look at the wall of VHS tapes to your left. “I just… um, I just came to pick up a movie for tonight.” 

“Yeah, yeah! Okay, I’ll be here… if you need anything,” he says awkwardly, painfully self-aware of how awful this interaction had been on his part. And you’re already walking away from him before he even stops talking. Cool. 

After one last painful interaction once you’ve picked out your movie, you go back out to your car and breathe a sigh of relief once you’re safe inside. Jesus Christ, you need to make someone else return that tape. 

Inside at the counter, Steve groans and rests his head on his folded arms atop the counter. Robin finally speaks up from her silent observation on the counter behind him. “So, are you going to explain that train wreck or…?”

 “Ex- girlfriend,” he responds. “Thanks for your help, by the way,” he says sarcastically, lifting his head just enough to glare at her. 

“You’re welcome,” she says with a wide grin, patting him on the back. “Jesus, what even happened? That was worse than watching you try to have a normal conversation with Nance.”

“That was the girl that I told you broke up with me because I started to fixate on Nancy. I was a real asshole back then,” he explains, rubbing the bridge of his nose in frustration.

“I believe it,” Robin leans her elbows back on the counter  next to him. “So what’s the deal, you're still in love with her or something? I mean, I would be.” She means to tease him, but her smile fades when he doesn’t laugh. “Oh you are. Damn.” 

“Shut up,” Steve groans. “I was stupid and now she like… can’t even stand to look at me. Clearly. That was the first time we’ve seen each other in forever.”

“Well maybe,” she muses, “You could win her back. You’re a changed man now, right? Pull some of those romantic gestures out to tug on her heart strings.” He looks up at her, wordlessly unamused. “What? One more rejection won’t kill you.” 

He flips her off and she chuckles as she leaves him to go rewind the stack of tapes sitting in the back. Something about Robin’s advice resonates with him, as he subconsciously conjures up ways to catch your attention again. 

                                                          -

The next time you see Steve, he’s at the record store you always used to visit. You just wanted to see if they had any new stuff that looked interesting, but he looks so lost in thought while staring at the shelves of cassettes that you can’t help approaching him. 

“Kate Bush?” You question while standing next to him, evidently breaking his concentration on the tape in his hands. “Wouldn’t have pegged you to be the type to listen to her.” 

“Oh, uh, yeah,” he says nervously, trying to gather his thoughts before he sounds more senseless than normal. “One of the kids recommended it when I asked what she was listening to. It seems to be all she listens to, actually.” 

“The kids?” You ask, and he realizes you aren’t caught up on the past two years at all. 

“Yeah, you know Nance’s little brother and all his friends? I kinda became like… an on-call babysitter? The Henderson kid and I are like, best friends.” He chuckles at the end of his sentence, suddenly hyper aware of how pathetic sounds, admitting that his best friend is a fifteen-year-old. 

“Seems like I missed a lot,” you hum, eyes flickering over the titles in front of you to avoid looking at him. 

“Do you, uh, maybe wanna go for a drive? Just to catch up?” You can hear the nervousness in his voice, and you’re surprised to see his cheeks a light shade of pink when you finally meet his gaze. A spark of the feelings you had when you first started dating arise, and you smile almost imperceptibly at the memory. 

“I shouldn’t, Steve. Not today, at least,” you trail off  and watch his expression fall for half a second before he realizes and clears his throat.

“Yeah, yeah. You’re right. I’ll just have to catch you some other day.” He hesitates. “I’m not that ‘King Steve’ guy anymore, you know.” 

His voice is so tentative that you have to do a double take to make sure the words actually came from him. It makes you rethink your answer to his offer of a drive, but you really shouldn’t. Yet…

“How about Saturday?” He perks up as you offer an alternate day, and he agrees almost immediately. 

“Yeah, that sounds good!” he tries not to sound too eager, but fails. It almost makes you giggle. 

“See you then, Harrington.” You leave his side with a tape in hand, going to the cash register to pay. He realizes he’s been gripping the Kate Bush tape with white knuckles the whole time, releasing it and wiping his sweaty palm on his pants frantically. 

                                                          - 

That was Thursday. Now, Saturday morning, Steve felt like he was going to throw up. He’d been pacing back and forth between his dresser and closet so long that there was a path worn faintly in the carpet. He’d already done his hair twice, having to start over once he stepped back and saw the sheer amount of flyaways sticking up from the back. 

Staring at the outfit in the mirror he picked out, he was about to change for the third time when the phone interrupted him with a shrill ring. He nearly trips over himself trying to get to his nightstand to answer it, hoping that it would be you on the other end saying that you’re ready. “Hello?” It comes out embarrassingly breathless. 

Much to his disappointment, it’s Henderson calling him to ask for help. “Steve? Oh thank god you picked up. It’s an emergency, I need you to pick me up. As soon as you possibly can.” 

“God, you can’t get anyone else to do this? I kind of have important shit happening today,” Steve tries to reason his way out of this, but it doesn’t seem like it’s going to be working. 

“No, this is confidential, top secret, super important business that I need to take care of today, Harrington!” Dustin’s voice just gets more frantic through the phone and Steve lets out a heavy sigh. 

“Fine, but you better not be fucking with me. And don’t ‘Harrington’ me, what’s the big deal anyways?” He balances the phone between his shoulder and ear while pulling his shoes on. 

“We don’t have time for that!” Steve winces at the loud volume of Dustin’s voice before he gets hung up on and the dial tone drones in his ear. Letting out a loud groan, he dials your number to call and cancel. 

                                                            -

“Oh,” you say into the phone when Steve tells you he can’t make it, not bothering to hide your disappointment. “Yeah, alright. I’m sure you have another girl on call or something,” you mumble, upset at yourself for even looking forward to this drive with him. 

“No, no it’s not like that,” he sounds like he’s pleading. “Henderson called and he said it’s an emergency, I’ll make it up to you.” You just scoff into the receiver. 

“Yeah, sure, ‘an emergency.’ Whatever, Steve.” You hang up on him, shaking your hair out of the clip you styled it with in anticipation for your ‘date.’

This is so typical, you think to yourself as you retreat back to the sanctuary of your room. Despite not wanting to get emotional over that asshole, you find yourself pulling your knees to your chest as you sit on your bed and focusing on the dainty floral print of the comforter to distract your mind. It wasn’t working, though, and your eyes well up with a few tears. God, how pathetic. 

You get up and change into something comfier, just for the sake of moving around. It’s not like you were going anywhere now. You were actually excited to see him, however unwilling you were to admit it. You consider it your own fault for letting your guard down, and resign yourself to commiserating with your favorite rom-com movies to soothe the sting.

                                                          -

Pulling up to Dustin’s house an hour later, Steve was tapping his steering wheel impatiently as he watched the front door. Maybe this would be quick? And then he could get back over to your house and apologize? 

His wishful thinking was interrupted by the front door slamming shut, almost immediately followed by Dustin practically falling into the passenger side of the car. “Dude,” he pants, “That was not speedy.” 

“You’re lucky I came at all,” Steve grumbles as he pulls away from the side of the street. “Care to, I don't know, clue me in about the big emergency? Is something happening with Will again?” 

“What? No, man, my mom’s birthday is tomorrow and I totally forgot to get her something.” 

Steve stops the car abruptly, more than necessary, at the stop sign. He shuts his eyes while turning to face Dustin slowly, “That is not an emergency.” His voice is low as he tries not to yell. 

“Yes it is!” Dustin argues, “I can’t let her know that I’ve forgotten two years in a row, what kind of son would I be?” 

“Clearly, one that forgets his mother’s birthday and then makes it everyone else’s problem.” Steve huffs as he continues to drive. “You know, you’re lucky I’m already here. And that I already canceled my date. But you owe me for this one, my friend.” 

“Yeah sure whatever,” Dustin mumbles, not appreciating the guilt trip. The rest of the drive and trip to the store was essentially silent, save for the occasional quip from Dustin to try and alleviate the tension in the car. It didn’t work, but that didn’t stop him from trying, of course. 

After an agonizing trip to three different stores and four hours later, Steve practically pushes Dustin out of the car while dropping him off. “Go tell your mother happy birthday and don’t forget next year,” he scolds through the rolled-down window.

“I will! Tomorrow!” Dustin shouts back on his way into the house, “Thanks man!” But Steve is already driving away. 

                                                          -

Your house is empty for the night, except for you of course, so you take to the living room to watch yet another comically sappy movie. It’s already past dinner and you’ve spent the day licking your emotional wounds over Steve. It’s definitely not the worst rejection you’ve faced, if you could even call it that, but the familiarity of being brushed off by him makes your heart ache all over again. 

A knock on your door startles you back to reality, pressing pause on the TV to answer it. It’s nearly 8 p.m., who would be visiting at this hour? Pulling your cardigan closer around your body in response to the chill of the air, you open the door and are greeted by none other than Steve Harrington. Only this time, he’s got flowers. Daisies, specifically, which you once told him were your favorite. You never thought he would have remembered. 

“Can I help you?” You cross your arms over your chest. He looks disheveled, like he got to your house in a hurry. 

He holds out of the flowers for you sheepishly, one hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. “I’m sorry about canceling today, I really did think it was an emergency. Turns out Henderson’s a drama queen and just needed a chauffeur for some errands,” he explains. You take the flowers as he offers them, and he decides that’s a good sign. The fact that you didn’t slam the door in his face was a good sign, actually, so this is already going better than expected. 

“So you didn’t blow me off for a date with a hotter girl?” You tease, it’s amusing to watch him fumble under even the most casual accusation. He never used to be this way, and you actually find it more endearing than the cocky attitude you were used to him having. 

“God, no. I was actually really excited to see you again, honest,” he puts his hand up in a ‘scouts honor’ fashion to prove his point, and it makes you smile. 

“Alright fine, come on inside,” you open the door fully to let him in as you set out to the kitchen to get a vase for the flowers you were gifted. “Lock the door behind you, please. Wouldn’t want any other strange men to appear on my doorway,” you call out to him. 

He chuckles and does as you say, calling back to you, “Yeah, I would assume one is enough.” He meets you in the kitchen, leaning against the entryway as he watches you move around the area. He doesn’t even realize he’s staring until you turn back around and meet his gaze, which he immediately turns to the ceiling in a feigned display of looking around the room. You suppress a smile at the somewhat childish behavior. 

“Well,” you start, gaining his direct attention once again, “You’re here. What did you want to catch up on?” 

He has to hold back a grin, which he doesn’t do very well, feeling beyond happy that you’re actually open to talking to him. “I mostly just wanted to see how you were doing, it’s been so long and I missed you,” he says, moving to sit across from you at the kitchen table as you settle into your seat. 

“You missed me?” You repeat quizzically, a slight smirk of disbelief gracing your features. 

“Yeah, I did. I was such an idiot for pursuing Nancy, I’m really fuckin’ sorry. I don’t know if I ever said that to you, but I should’ve,” he sounds so sincere that you really have no choice but to believe him. 

“Where’s all this coming from, Steve?” You watch as he bites the inside of his cheek, as if he’s trying to think of the perfect thing to say. There’s a silence that falls over the room before he speaks again. 

“I’ve had a really rough couple of years,” he admits, “And I think about our relationship way more than I should, especially for being the one that ruined it. But, I feel like I’ve changed a lot, and I didn’t appreciate you like I should’ve back then,” he can’t seem to meet your eyes as his next words are impossibly softer. “I wanted to ask you to give me another chance, as stupid as that sounds. And you can say no, you can tell me to fuck off, whatever. But I just… I had to ask.” He finally meets your eyes, and you’re surprised that you can see straight through him. But there’s no ulterior motive to be seen, in fact, you’ve never seen him this sincere. It really was like looking at a completely different person from before. 

You feel the full weight of his gaze as you process his words, it actually feels like a lot of pressure. “Quit staring at me like that,” you let out a soft, nervous laugh. He lets out a soft ‘sorry’ before turning his attention to his hands that rest on the table in front of him. You choose your next words carefully, speaking slowly. “I think… it would be nice to try again. I’ve missed you, too, but my guard is up… from last time.” 

He nods quickly, “I completely get that, mine would be too.” He assures you. “We can… just start slow? If you want? However you wanna take this, I’m down.” 

The veiled enthusiasm in his voice makes you smile, and you nod. “Yeah, that would work. Just starting from scratch again.” 

“Great, that’s… great,” he breathes, visibly relieved. “How about lunch? Tomorrow? I have… so much I’ve been wanting to tell you,” he admits with a wide smile.