FangirlLmtd

he decided where his self worth was, and no one at school at the time could understand what truly happened for king steve to turn into an almost human overnight.

it has been years since then now. however, steve never really moved on from his first love, dragging it with him to every date he went on. and he went on many dates.

you truly only walked in to rent a dvd and walked out with a very persistent steve who somehow got your contact details without making it seem creepy at all.

"let me know if you like the movie or not. yeah?"

"i will when i come to return the-"

"how will i have recommendations already picked out on that day if i don’t know whether you liked the movie or not, beautiful?"

despite your lack of friends, you heard people talk, and no one talked well enough about steve harrington now for you to feel good about the date you had been asked out on a few rented dvds later.

then steve had showed up, and your teenage fantasies of dating king steve hadn’t seemed that far away anymore, just a little later down the line.

better late than never though.

seems like steve walked in with his own fantasies consisting of nancy wheeler, and though you had your mind made up that steve would end up dumping you as usual... it just kept on escalating.

you kept on falling harder and harder with every interaction, every date. it was probably because you could tell he was falling just as hard, that made it easy.

now here you were, nearing the one year anniversary of your relationship with the boyfriend you were utterly and fully in love with.

the only problem was that it suddenly… wasn’t reciprocated.

on the surface level, every one of your friends- people who were his friends first, truly- kept on telling you about how he was in love with you.

"honey, i wish you could see how he looks at you when you’re not looking," robin had muttered, but it was too early in your relationship so you shrugged it off with a blush on your cheeks.

"you’re a good girl for steve," hop had stated one day, his face neutral as he stood next to you, watching steve with dustin and lucas. "let me know if he gives ya any trouble?"

you shrugged it off again. steve, your steve, could never give you trouble.

but then the 'honeymoon phase' cracked, or maybe you were just... so occupied with loving steve that you only noticed much later that he was loving on you... and nancy wheeler.

"nancy’s nice," you had mentioned after meeting her for the first time as an observation, and steve had stiffened. that was the first crack.

"yeah, yeah. she’s awesome." he gulped, one hand on his steering wheel and the other pulling your hand to his lips. "you’re the best though."

you couldn’t pinpoint exactly why that had sounded fake.

the second crack was a big one. you walked into the party at robin’s house with your hands occupied with a wine bottle and steve.

that obviously wasn’t the first time you had seen steve drunk.

he always gets the same pinkish hue on his cheeks after drinking that he got after spending hours between your legs.

maybe love drunk was a thing after all?

"you’re still just as funny," steve had burst out laughing, his head on his ex’s shoulder, and you hated the way your stomach dropped.

he was just laughing, eyes squinted. nancy was just quietly watching him with a smile on her face.

was she realizing that drunk steve looked the same flushed as the time he probably... possibly gave her head too?

the thought was so visceral that you had to rush to throw up.

gentle hands were immediately pulling your hair back and massaging your back as you emptied the alcohol in your system.

"shh, sweetheart. i got you," steve had whispered, despite being more drunk than you. "i’m gonna have to cut you up, baby."

he meant no more alcohol, but a giggle slipped past your lips anyway. you were a total goner for him and it scared you so determined, that night you decided to start looking for more signs.

signs you probably missed because of... the smoke in front of your eyes. good thing, it was gone now and fully filling your lungs instead.

on the way back home, as you drove steve back, he had looked at you without blinking, eyes wet, mesmerized. "hey, you know i love you, right?"

tears had filled your eyes at the words, and you immediately felt like an idiot. passing it off as a drunk ramble, you smiled tightly at him before letting him kiss you goodnight.

the problem was when he remembered exactly what had happened and woke up panicking. only steve’s panic wasn’t over what he said to you.

“i wanted it to be memorable.” he had sighed against your shoulder as your hands massaged his. “i wanted to make it special.”

“it is memorable,” you countered, kissing his bare chest as his hands found home at the low part of your back, inside your shirt.

“i do love you,” he had said, nibbling at your jaw, reaching your neck. “so much, it drives me insane.”

not even a minute later, he was showing you how much he truly loved you. your eyes were closed, but his scent was intoxicating, his touch, his feel. him.

dazed, your eyes opened to watch steve’s own eyes closed. he was moving inside you, holding you while sucking at your neck, leaving marks, and all you could wonder was whether he was imagining her in his head.

wouldn’t be the first time one of your boyfriends was thinking of someone else while making love to you.

suddenly, his touch burned you, his lips too chapped, his hold too loose. he was losing you, and he wasn’t even aware.

“so good for me, baby. i love you.” in a haze, he had whined and looked at you. “so sweet, baby. all mine.”

the final hit was hop’s words repeated on steve’s lips, especially during something so intimate.

you were good for him. stable. patient. different but not what he craved. you were just the boring cure for the chaos nancy had left behind in him.

with your nails scratching down his back, you had to wonder whether he was good for you.

at least his words reassured you that you were the one of his mind at the time. 

once you started noticing the cracks, the more frequently they started showing up. alone, they looked harmless, but together, they were breaking your soul.

on a rainy thursday when food delivery was out of the question, steve had driven to the shops in search of ingredients so you could both cook together, and your first mistake was hoping to read the book on his shelf that you knew was just a prop.

while pulling it out, a small, flat box had dropped and popped open. inside wasn’t any damning substance that you could use to stone him, but…

a stack of polaroids.

nancy laughing on the hood of his car. nancy, in his jacket that he has used to wrap you in multiple times. nancy, looking behind the camera with so much love, and you knew she was looking at him. nancy. nancy. nancy.

the date scribbled made it clear that these were from half a decade ago, and you had put the box with the book back exactly as they were.

but your hands were cold the whole night, the knife lodged inside your chest twisting slowly, and steve had noticed but decided not to push. just grateful that you were there.

probably grateful he wasn’t alone. if nancy didn’t do it, you could… for the time being. you scrubbed yourself so hard in the shower that night, that steve had to moisturize it better. 

it got so bad that you had to avoid ever being at places you knew nancy was coming to, conversations that were going to revolve around her.

you genuinely liked nancy. she was great and charming. nice to you, nice to everyone in a dry way that showed her maturity. if you were steve, you wouldn’t move on from her either. and that was not just an observation but a fact.

jealousy and insecurity both hurt, but when they blur and merge together… it killed you. and there’s only so long before it starts killing the essence of your life too.

your breaking point came in disguise of a halloween party. one you couldn’t escape because you didn’t wanna disappoint your already suspicious boyfriend.

from steve’s long list of friends, someone was throwing a costume party at a barn on the outskirts of town. “it’ll be fun!” he’d insisted, his eyes bright. “just like old times.”

a glittering smile adorned his face, and you knew he misses the old times a little too much, ones when you weren’t a part of his life.

the night started fun, and you were honestly enjoying it, letting your worries fall, and in retrospect, steve was enjoying it as well. his hand around your waist, grinding against you but in a comical manner to make you laugh.

then he had went to get you both a drink, and to your surprise, he had three drinks balancing in his hands. “i saw this and thought of nancy,” was all he had said before kissing your cheek and walking towards her.

his hands were full- otherwise, he would have been pulling you with him. to see your nightmare manifest to life.

“remember when-” was what you came back to after a detour to stabilize your breathing. jonathan was watching nancy and steve with a drink of his own. the conversations between them always sidelined everyone else.

it was filled with so much shared history and “remember whens” that you debated whether you should just walk away before a slow song started playing. jonathan was talking to someone else, and you saw it happen in slow motion.

they weren’t dancing. they were just talking. shoulders relaxed, head tilted, and your boyfriend’s face holding a tenderness. you would die to know whether this is how he looked at you or not.

just then steve was reaching out and plucking something off of her hair. it was a simple, harmless gesture, but you had to take a step back to not get knocked down.

he looked at her like home… his home.

the reality of the situation washed over you like ice water. you knew he loved you.

really, he did. that’s the only reason you put up with so much. you could feel the affection and care he held for you. even devotion.

but it felt effortless with nancy, a dance they had played and cemented the steps to, while he occasionally stepped on your toes from the lack of familiarity.

suddenly steve was looking around, carefree, and his eyes finally caught on ypu. his smile was immediate, a warmness washing over your chest. it almost looked too genuine.

it killed you, not knowing if this was for you or an aftereffect of standing next to the love- well. the loss of his life.

“there’s my girl,” pleased and in love, steve had announced, unaware of how you had already burned everything down in your head.

the tenderness in his touch of another woman had pushed you to the edge. your webs were broken, yet you couldn’t cry.

was it the nervousness of ending up throwing a scene? or was the heartbreak not that concrete yet?

when he reached you, you stiffened as he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against him.

“baby, you look pale,” he had said, and you watched his mouth move. you wanted to forget what his mouth felt like on your skin. it was like a tattoo, you could never scrub off.

his brows furrowed further when you settled for just staring at him with a heartbroken look. steve had figured it was just restlessness or maybe alcohol- you were a lightweight- but you were getting pulled away from the crowd anyway.

unfortunately, all you could do was stare at him, to solder his features to memory. you were never gonna look for love after this. you wouldn’t find it, nevertheless.

“i think i’m gonna head home. i’m not feeling well.”

“okay, baby.” his jacket was already wrapping around you, and you wanted to throw up when the polaroids flashed in front of your eyes. “i’ll take you.”

“no!” you had snapped, and alarms went off in your boyfriend’s head. all his emotions were on his face, so you softened a bit despite removing his arm. “i’ll catch a ride with robin, steve. you were so excited for… just have fun with your friends, yeah?”

“don’t be silly.” his hand against your forehead to check your temperature burned you. “i was only excited to bring you here."

the care that once made you swoon only felt like dread now. you met his eyes, knowing for the first time he was allowed to see the damage he has caused.

"steve," it sounded like a curse. "please. just let me go."

"never."

he hadn’t even missed a beat, and it felt like a sick joke, especially when you looked at the hood of his car. still, no tears dripped down your eyes.

the whole ride, he rubbed your thigh, reaching for your hand eventually. steve thought what you needed was space but failed to see how wrong he was.

that night, you cried like a baby after you were sure steve had gone to sleep beside you. his arm heavy against your torso that you refused to let move. you cried in silence, mourning the end that had already begun.

it took you a few more days to make your peace with it. the breakup didn’t happen in a dramatic argument but as a silent walking away, hollow like your relationship.

steve had just come to yours after a long shift, hoping to relax with a well deserved day off tomorrow. so you rehearsed your reasons and causes, hoping that one day off would be enough for him to mourn and get over you.

you were not that significant anyway.

"woah, woah, woah. wha-"

"i’m sorry."

it was going not as well as you expected. despite your hardcore proof of steve’s indifference, your partner was falling apart in front of you as you sat on the edge of your bed.

"okay. okay." frozen, steve had muttered before he got on his knees.

"talk to me, sweetheart. please. whatever it is, we can fix it," his voice soft, pleading. he reached for your hand and when you pulled it away. 

steve flinched as if you you slapped him.

melancholy is a strange emotion, not alien but something steve had left behind long ago, right when you had entered his life.

"there’s nothing to fix, steve."

"don’t say that," he whispered, his eyes already shiny. "that’s not true. tell me what i did. just tell me, and i’ll make it right. i’ll do anything."

this was the pathetic part, and you wanted to know whether his ache matched yours or not, but you already knew you were being foolish for even questioning it. 

he cares about nancy enough to keep her polaroids when you have none ever taken.

steve had not felt this broken, even when faced by an interdimensional monster. his longing to feel you  undoing him and your refusal for the same pulled bile to his throat.

"it’s not just one thing," you said, your voice terrifyingly calm. "it’s… everything. it’s who you are when you’re with me."

he looked utterly lost. "who am i? i’m just… me. i’m your steve, baby." tears dropped ddown his face, and it was your turn to freeze. "i’m your… yours. i’m in love with you, that’s just who i am."

"are you?" the question hung in the air. "or are you in love with two girls, in wait of ‘the’ one… while renting out space to me?"

his face crumpled. "no. god, no. sweetheart, that’s-what do you mean? i love you- you! i love you, only you!"

the confessions fell over your skin like lies trying to keep his hidden desires under wraps.

"i never said you didn’t!" you interrupted, the first tear breaking free.

 "it’s about the polaroids you keep. it’s about the way your voice gets this… this fond, distant tone when you talk about high school. she’s the girl who rewired steve harrington. that girl left. and you never got over it. you just…”

"this is about nancy?" he was shaking his head, a frantic, denial motion, reaching for you anyway. "please, please don’t let your doubts ruin this, please. i love you. you… you-we built something new. we built us."

"because nancy-"

"stop saying her name!" he begged. he was crying freely, unashamedly pathetic with snot falling in his love. 

"stop comparing! there’s no comparison! you win! you win every single time. you’re here. you’re real. you’re the one i come home to, the one i want to tell everything, the one i’m planning a future with! how can you not see that?"

steve wanted to read your mind, to re tie the fabrics of your time together, fix the badly sewn, unknot the tight knots that were choking you for the future, your future together.

the future you had already burned down. his evidence and words were just a list of things he’d done while secretly loving someone else. you knew your narrative was airtight, and nothing could shake it.

"i see you looking for her in me," you said, the words tasting like poison. "and i can’t be her, steve. i won’t try anymore."

"oh my god. no- no- i’m never… i’m not looking for her!" he cried, standing up, pacing a few steps before turning back, his hands in his hair. "i’m looking for you! i’m always just looking for you! do you not love me?"

you don’t reply, trying to stop the damage from spreading like wildfire, and steve blinks, trying to control himself but failing.

"you don’t love me?" he whispers, composing himself, and you are unaware of exactly how much damage you are doing by not replying. how he has gone through this exact thing before.

"baby?" steve falls limp against your door, and you know you can’t lie.

"i love you so, so much, steve," you murmur, looking at your hands gripping the flesh of your thighs. "and that’s why it kills me so much worse that you’re still in love with her."

he stared at you, his mouth slightly open. "you think i’m still in love with nancy?"

"everyone sees it, and i know it! the way you look at her, the way you talk about her…" to make him see the truth, you confess a dark, dirty, hideous, deep secret.

"i found the box, steve. the polaroids. you keep them like a sacred relic. right in your bookshelf."

"the box in the bookshelf?" he asked, running a hand through his hair. "baby, that’s just… that’s old stuff. i forgot it was even there! i don’t even read the books."

"you don’t forget first love," you whispered, the fight draining out of you, leaving only an empty ache. "you just measure everyone else against it. and i’ll never measure up. i’m just… the good girl. the stable one. the one who’s good for you. i’m not the one who undid you."

"you are undoing me right now." suddenly he was determined, gently holding your hand and pulling you out your house.

"steve," you say, tired.

"no. we-we are going to get rid of the polaroids and… and i’ll prove to you-"

you sigh, letting him drag you and pull the same fucking jacket around you. he needs this, and you’re nothing if not adjusting.

you keep on nodding to what he is saying while he drives, even letting him get a kiss after he opened the door for you, and watch him take the box and throw it in the trash can.

how long it took him to find the box on his own bookshelf should’ve been your first sign as to how he really doesn’t care for it, but you were determined, scared, and insecure.

the soft thud of his knees hitting the carpet pulls you out of your thoughts. steve’s arms were wrapped around you, his forehead pressed against your abdomen.

heaving, ugly sobs shook his entire frame, and instinctively you reached to comfort him, cradling his head.

"please," he gasped into the fabric, his voice muffled and broken. "please, baby. don’t go. you can’t leave."

your own tears dropped, and you pulled him up to his bed the best you could.

"i don’t understand," he rambled, the words tumbling out between sobs, his arms tightening almost painfully. "i’ll… i’ll cut her off. i’ll never say her name again. i won’t even look at her. just tell me what to do. tell me what’s wrong with me, and i’ll fix it. i’ll be better. i’ll be anything."

his words were nonsense, the desperate bargaining of a heart that couldn’t process the heartbreak. he wasn’t fighting your reasons, he was accepting all blame if only it meant you’d stay.

you wouldn’t have believed steve was going to be this affected it if you weren’t holding his wreck in your hands.

 in your head, he was going to be sad his placeholder was leaving but glad that the place can be filled by the girl of his dreams.

"it’s not… it’s not her," he wept, his body trembling against yours. "it’s you. it’s always been you. It always will be  you’re the best thing. how can you not know? how can i be so bad at this that you don’t know?"

this was your defeat. not by his logic, but by his utter, complete surrender.

the stand you took crumbled not under argument, but under the flood of his pain. your resolve, which had felt so righteous and strong, now felt cold and cruel in the face of his total breakdown.

slowly, your own body betrayed you. the stiff posture melted. you relaxed, and your curves fit against him. your home. you gave him permission to have you another night, though he doesn’t know the expiry of this submission.

"i’m sorry," he whispered, over and over, a broken record of his only truth. "i love you, i love you, i’m sorry, i love you, please."

you closed your eyes. and you craved it. in that moment, you craved and relished in knowing his love for you was never in question. the power trip you get is an all consuming need.

however, being right this is just a reminder that you have been right about the other things too.

you craved the feel of his arms, the heat of his tears, the frantic beat of his heart against your back. 

it was the most devastating hug of your life, a hug that was a funeral for everything you will crave for a lifetime.

you let him hold you. you let him cry. you let his rambling, incoherent love wash over you until he’s emotionally drained, just as you have been for a month.

the weight of his sorrows feels unwanteh though. you let him have you till he is sure you have changed your mind.

"i love you," you whisper when the feel of his arms became a gentle pressure. in the safety of the very despair you caused, your voice is heavy and sure. "i will always love you."

your resolve gives up, slumping fully against steve’s sleeping form.

he loved you, yes. completely, desperately, entirely. but it was a love living in a house haunted by one more. and you couldn’t live in a haunted house.

you stood on quiet feet and walked out of the house, breaking the illusion of the morning steve had fallen asleep to.

you paused, one last time, and looked back at steve as you were leaving. you saw the life that could have been, now forever tinted with the memory of his heartbroken sobs against your skin.

then you stepped out into the cool hawkins night, closing the door with a soft, final click.

you left him with his love, his confusion, and his empty, echoing apology, never giving him a chance to justify his side and quiet your fears.

after all, you think, your first love did change you. you will never be the girl who will be waiting for betrayal to fall into her bed.

having been cheated on by your first boyfriend made you conscious. it gave you a perspective. you were able to find patterns you hadn’t before.

and it had saved you the heartbreak this time.

or so you thought, until it was hard to even get out of bed.

had you truly avoided an inevitable heartbreak or caused one?

★ : a/n :: in my head, the concept of the reader messing up is so little explored. like it's okay maybe it's important to mess up sometimes to heal. being human is learning and doing better :3