Chapter One

Robin threw her head back in laughter, the sound so endearing that it made you want to laugh too. But you couldn’t. There was nothing comical about this situation at all.

“So he called your house just… out of nowhere?” She asked, still chuckling.

“Yeah! He got my number from Nancy.. said he’s tried everyone and he’s desperate!”

“How long do you think you’ll last before he pisses you off and you quit?” Your best friend smirked, moving to lie beside you on your bed.

“I’m already irritated!” You exclaimed, covering your eyes with your hands before sliding them down your face. Robin chuckled and you gave her a stern look.

“I do need the money though..” You worried your bottom lip between your teeth, biting down so hard it was almost painful. “And the extra credit.”

You let out an exasperated sigh, staring up at your ceiling and letting yourself get lost in The Clash album that was spilling from your record player.

“Surely it won’t be that bad.” Robin replied, not sounding entirely convinced herself.

————

It in fact was that bad.

Steve had arrived at your meet up spot in the back of the library fifteen minutes late, usually perfect hair unruly and panting like he’d just run a marathon.

“Sorry I’m late- coach made me stay back for skipping last week.”

You huffed out a laugh, your first session already off to a great start.

“Just.. sit down.” You gestured to the empty seat beside you, trying not to let your distaste for this situation blatantly obvious. “Let’s start before we lose more time.”

You pulled out your worn copy of To Kill A Mockingbird, placing it on the table in front of him. He looked at it like it was a completely foreign object, twisting his pen between his fingers.

“Which part are you struggling with?”

“All of it.” He answered quickly, eyes wide.

“Have you even read the book?” You scoffed, partly in disbelief.

He shook his head and gave you a shy smile. You tried to keep your composure, though your cool demeanour was cracking a little.

“Just- take my copy and read it, okay? It has all the annotations and everything.” You flipped through the pages, showing him the highlighted sections and colored sticky notes you’d added, before pushing it towards him.

“We’ll start with character analysis” You pulled out your notebook and he mirrored you. “Or at least you can learn the names.”

————

After 20 agonising minutes you’d finally made a somewhat decent mind map, half of it in Steve’s oddly neat handwriting and the rest scrawled down by your iron grip on the pen.

You leaned back in your chair, finally looking over at him.

“You’re off the hook, Harrington. I need to be on time for my shift.”

He nodded, keeping that intense eye contact that was kind of his trademark.

“Thank you, really.” He pulled a crumpled 20 dollar bill from his backpack and handed it to you, his face more sincere than you’d ever seen it.

You found yourself lost for words briefly, lips curling into a smile before you remembered who you were talking to.

“Just… read the book okay? I’ll see you next week.”

With that you, gathered your things, b-lining towards the double doors before he could walk alongside you.

————

The next session was a little better.

“Did you read it?” You asked, taking a seat across from the boy who had already been sat waiting for you. At least he looked a bit more put together today, clad in those too-tight jeans and a maroon sweater.

“Yep! Well… most of it.”

“You learn anything?” You replied sarcastically and he just hummed in response, pushing the book towards you on the desk and prompting you to open it.

You did, flipping through the pages to find highlighted sections and added notes in that damn cursive writing. It shocked you that he’d actually tried, and you felt something akin to pride swelling in your chest. You didn’t let it show though - didn’t give him the praise he was so used to receiving.

“You take notes?”

He opened his notebook, proudly showing you a few pages of analysis he’d written.

“Wow.” You replied, the words coming out less sarcastic than you’d intended them. “Maybe you do have a shot at graduating.”

He chuckled at that, dipping his head almost shyly. You hated it - hated that it was endearing.

“Okay.” You straightened up, taking a deep exhale. “Now let’s do themes. Click’s test is on Friday so you’re gonna wanna prepare.”

You spend the next 15 minutes reading excerpts and explaining the symbolism behind them, watching from the corner of your eye as he took notes as quickly as he could. When you finished reading, silence fell upon you and he took the opportunity to finally open his mouth.

“You don’t give yourself enough credit.” He muttered, and you hummed in question even though you’d heard him perfectly.

“You said your grades aren’t that good, but you’re really smart. You don’t give yourself enough credit.” He repeated, more sure of himself now.

You parted your lips but no sound came out, not sure how to respond to his unprompted comment. Part of you thought you could say the same about him.

“Thanks.” You forced, “I don’t really get time to study all that much, so…” You trailed off, weirded out by the strangely personal nature of the conversation.

“Why?” He replied sharply.

“Well I work. A lot. And my Mom works all the time so I have to take care of my brother a lot of the time-“ The last syllable came out in a gulp; you were suddenly aware that you’d just told him to much.

He looked almost sorry, and you swallowed back the feeling that invoked. You hated being pitied, especially by Steve Harrington. He must have seen the way your expression soured, because he looked back down at his work, not daring to pry further into it.

“Well if it counts for anything, I think you’re smart.”

It doesn’t you wanted to say, but deep down, it did.

————

Robin was waiting by your locker when you finally made it out of there, still dressed in her band uniform and carrying that comically large trumpet case.

“It go well?” She asked, pushing off the wall with her foot and giving you a smile.

You just let out a huff of air in response, standing dejected as she came to walk by your side.

“You wanna go get ice cream? I’m not working tonight.”

She accepted instantly, and the pair of you made your way to your beater where Robin hauled her instrument into the trunk.

You rounded the car to the driver door, pulling on the handle when a familiar laugh stopped you in your tracks.

You turned to come face to face with Tommy H and Carol, who stood smugly against a familiar maroon beamer. Steve himself wasn’t there, but they were leaning up against the car like they owned it.

“You going anywhere nice?” Carol chimed as Robin shut the trunk with an unsatisfying thump that shook the whole car.

“You better be careful that piece of shit doesn’t explode in the middle of the highway.” Tommy added, laughing as cigarette smoke curled from his lips.

You just climbed in and shut the door, refusing to even engage. Robin rolled her eyes beside you, immediately fiddling with the radio dial as soon as you put the keys in the ignition.

“Assholes…” She muttered, the two of you watching as Steve came into view, greeting Tommy with a pat on the back.

You whipped out of the lot as fast as you could, the scene a sudden but needed reminder of who Steve really was. An asshole.

————

Your car faintly smelled sickly sweet - the aroma of chocolate and strawberry mixing with the permanent oil smell in the front seat.

Robin laughed around her ice cream, almost choking as she struggled to finish the rest of her story.

“-Then Jennifer practically lit her hair on fire with the bunsen burner… and Kaminski was sooo pissed you should have seen it.”

You giggled, adjusting your feet on the dash as you indulged in your own cone. The laughter died down, leaving nothing but the two of you and the thick evening air in the parking lot of the diner.

“Sooo…” You started, narrowing your eyes at your best friend. “Did you talk to Tammy yet?”

Robin let out a strangled sigh, slamming her head down onto the dashboard in frustration.

“I’ll take that as a no then.”

She nodded, barely lifting her head.

“She’s a total dud anyway.” You shrugged, and she peaked over at you.

“She is not!”

“Oh yes she is!”

Robin sat up straight, staring out into the sunset with an almost glazed over look in her eyes. She clearly wasn’t in the mood to joke.

“Rob? Hey…” You reached out and rubbed her back, sensing something was up just from the lack of words leaving her mouth.

“She’s obsessed with that dickwad.” She spat the last word out like she’d been chewing on it for hours.

“Who?”

“Steve.”

You sighed at the mention of his name.

“Yeah well… you can do so much better anyways. That girl is tone-deaf.” You attempted at lightening the mood and Robin shot you a stern look despite the smile growing on her face.

“I don’t wanna talk about that anymore.” She said sharply, suddenly straightening up and resting her body against the passenger door to fully face you. “Actually, speaking of Ste-“

“Oh god.” It was your turn to cover your head with your hands now. “It was so weird.”

“Weird?” She laughed. “Weird like bad weird?”

“Yeah. He randomly was like… telling me how smart I am and being like… Nice?”

Robin shot you a confused look, still clearly finding this comical.

“Uh oh.” She responded, her face suddenly serious.

“Uh oh?” You panicked.

“He’s using his charm on you.” She broke out into laughter again.

“He is not!” You shot back.

“So is!”

You gave her a playful shove, your face turning a little red despite yourself.

“And it’s working” She giggled, ducking when you aimed another jab at her.

“Shut up!” You replied, offended that she would even suggest that. “He’s an asshole!”

“Mhm” She hummed, shoving the last of her cone in her mouth smugly.

————

The next day, you were halfway through dinner with Will when the sound of the phone cut you off mid-bite. You slammed your fork down into your macaroni and headed to answer it, expecting just a call from your Mom at work or maybe Robin or a coworker. Either way, they had called in the middle of dinner and royally pissed you off.

The moment you put the receiver to your ear a frantic voice rang out.

“I need you to help me.”

“Steve?”

“My Dad’s gonna fucking kill me if I don’t pass this test.” Before you could even muster up a response he spoke again.

“Can you fit an extra session in before Friday? Please?”

You sighed, rubbing your temple as you considered your options.

“Hello?”

“Okay..” You huffed out, not exactly sure why you were helping him. “Tomorrow at lunch.”

“I can’t. I have practice.”

“Just skip it!”

“I can’t! It’s our big game on Friday!” He shot back, voice growing even more desperate. If you weren’t so irritated, you might have enjoyed the sound of the over-confident king Steve begging on his knees.

Your patience was wearing thin now, and you were acutely aware of your TV dinner getting colder by the second and your little brother who was listening to this whole conversation.

He took note of your silence, because of course he did.

“Please, Byers.”

Another beat.

“Okay. Fine.” You replied reluctantly, partly just because you wanted to get off the phone. “I have some time after my shift. I finish at 7.”

“Great. Thank you- just- shall we study at yours then?”

You worried your bottom lip between your teeth, gaze wandering to your little brother who was just happily munching away, then to the clutter that surrounded him.

“I- I don’t think-“

“You can just come here.” He cut you off before you even had to think of a shitty excuse, and you were partly grateful, but also annoyed by the prospect of having to go to Steve Harringtons house. In the one class you shared, math, he hadn't even acknowledged you above a smile since this whole tutoring thing started; now he wanted you at his house?

“I’ll see you then. Thanks. Bye.” He added, and just like that the line went dead before you could even give him any kind of response.

You placed the phone back in its holder, your little brother wasting no time in asking questions.

The slow hum of the old rotating fan in your room had become something of a comfort to you in the silence of the early hours of the morning, the sound representing your last few minutes of peace before your pesky alarm clock signaled the start of the day. It was October 6th, 1983 and sure enough, at 6 am sharp, that god-awful shrill noise rang out. You reached an achy arm out and slammed your hand down on the off-button, cutting it off promptly before it could do any further damage to your eardrums.

You practically pealed yourself out of bed, the cold air from the window you'd forgotten to shut immediately hitting your bare legs and peaking goosebumps all over your body. You'd barely slept - your shift at the Hawk theatre had ran overtime and you'd clocked out just before one AM.

The curtains rattled with the force of the breeze outside as you pulled on a pair of washed-out blue jeans and your favorite knit sweater. Your eyes were still heavy with sleep but you coated your lashes in mascara and applied some eyeliner to your waterline before applying a little gloss to your lips.

Your Mom was likely just about to leave for her shift and Will didn't need to be woken up for another 10 minutes, so you took the opportunity to dig your nearly empty packet of Marlboro Reds out of your underwear drawer and perched on the ledge by the open window.

6:30 came around faster than you would've liked, and you made your way into your brother's room to wake him up for school. Will had an irritating habit of staying up to late reading his x-men comics or talking to Mike on his walkie, and often slept through his alarm or just forgot to set it at all. He protested groggily when you turned on the light, but you just told him to get up and dressed as you headed to the kitchen to make him breakfast.

------

Will had just-about swallowed the last chomp of his pop tart when you began urging him out the door, him falling back to sleep already leaving you behind schedule.

Your car was a beater by all accounts - an old Ford Galaxie that had once belonged to your mother, but it got you from A to B with a decent amount of willpower and rumbling engine. You usually enjoyed driving Will to school, but your lack of sleep and the imminent chemistry quiz left you a little down and irritable. Your brother hummed along to the radio in the passenger seat, fingers tapping on the window ledge as he watched the streets go by.

"Could you pick me up from Mike's at 8 tonight?"

You shook away your worries about the incoming school day, responding with a simple 'yeah' before turning your attention back to the road. Unlike you, Will was lively and very much awake.

"I'm going right after school. We're doing this really cool campaign and Nancy even said she might dress up for it again!"

You let out a chuckle at that, the thought of your Nancy dressed as some kind of mythical creature snapping you out of your tired haze.

"That's cool, just make sure you're actually done by 8 this time." You mumbled, pulling into the middle school and grinding to a halt outside of the entrance.

"8... 15?" Will pushed, looking at you with those puppy dog eyes he'd gotten from your mother.

"8 sharp." You confirmed, laughing a little at his antics.

He nodded slowly, giving you the impression that your words had gone in one ear and out the other.

"Have a good day, dingus." You said through huffs of giggles, ruffling his hair as he opened the passenger door.

————

Today was one like any other; students rushing and fraternizing in the dank hallways of Hawkins high, girls clustered together in the back of class talking about who was screwing who and what kind of dresses were acceptable for winter formal; a cacophony of voices you would rather ignore. The early eighties had brought with it an array of interesting fashion trends- bright colors and acid washed whatever, so dressing in a series of beat up biker jackets and flannels earned you negative attention from all kinds of mind-numbed cheerleaders. You’d never really considered your style to be particularly outlandish, it was just what was affordable on a movie-theatre salary with a family of 3 to partially support.

Suburban small town America had become excessively obsessed with appearances, decorated with huge white double fronted houses, each one with a quaint picket fence and an American flag on the porch. Your house was nothing of the sort, standing on the edge of town with its badly fitted wood paneling and perpetually grimy windows. This was butt-fuck nowhere after all - no matter how many perfectly trimmed bushes and unnaturally perfect paint jobs you put over it. A pig in lipstick is still a pig.

————

You made it through first period without having to make conversation, Mrs clicks strict ‘no talking’ rule being a blessing for a grouchy Monday morning. You weaved your way through the crowded corridor to study hall, entering the large classroom early to unpack your binders and books.

You picked your usual seat in the back corner by the window, pulling your walkman over your eyes and pressing play on your talking heads cassette. You paid no mind as the students began pouring into the room and taking the seats beside you, too wrapped up in your music to really care. The minutes droned on and you remained blissfully unaware, right up until you felt something hit the side of your head.

A paper plane fell and crumped at your feet and you pulled your headphones down abruptly to be met with the voice of the boy you hated the most.

“Hey freak! I was talking to you!”

Tommy H.

You kept your cool, turning to face him and his snickering friends. They looked like something out of a chick-flick; Carol perched on Tommy’s lap, twirling her gum between her fingers and snapping it back into her mouth with a wet pop, Steve Harrington leaning back in his chair beside them, running a hand through his perfect hair.

“What do you want?” You replied, irritation dripping from your words.

“I want you to do my history homework!” He laughed, Carol and Steve snickering along.

You weren’t even a nerd - your grades were decent but not decent enough to warrant this kind of teasing. Tommy H and his clique knew nothing about you, only that you didn’t go to parties and kept to yourself.

“Fuck off Tommy.” You shot back, turning to face your work again in an attempt to block him out.

Steve let out an ‘oooo’ sound at your attitude, finding the situation humorous - Carol on the other hand did not.

“Who do you think you are?” She practically spat, her tone hyperbolic like she was just looking for a reaction out of you.

You didn’t give it to her.

“Huh, Byers?”

You turned back to face them, twirling your pencil in your hands in an attempt to cool the rage that was burning under your skin.

“Can you just shut up, I’m trying to focus.”

Carol just scoffed in response, crossing her arms as her boyfriend huffed out a laugh. Steve turned his eyes back to his paper.

“You know what, you can be a real bitch.” Tommy started, learning towards you.

You just rolled your eyes and once again tried to block him out, hands rising to your headphones, ready to pull them back over your ears.

“Maybe if you were nicer your Daddy wouldn’t have skipped town!”

You froze, his words hitting like a blow to the chest no matter how hard you tried to hide it. You didn’t look at him for fear of him seeing the way your eyes were beginning to glaze over.

You could see a sharp smack to Tommy’s side in your peripheral.

“Don’t be an ass. Shut up.” Steve warned, Tommy’s lips curling tightly as he leaned back towards is own desk like the obedient lapdog he was.

You shoved your headphones back over your ears and cranked your music up to full volume, getting lost in the track again to prevent your thoughts from intruding.

————

Ms. Kelley’s office was starting to feel like a second home to Steve. He swung on his heals, rocking his chair back and forth as he pinched the bridge of his nose in defeat.

“So you’re telling me… I could not graduate?”

Ms. Kelley hummed, wetting her fingers before flipping through the pages of his record.

“You have a C- minus in chemistry, Steve, you’re on the brink of failing english.”

“Well what about my extracurriculars? Can’t I just.. get a basketball scholarship or something?”

She shook her head firmly, eyes leaving the paper to stare up at him.

“If you don’t get your grades back on track you can kiss that goodbye. You need to maintain a decent GPA to stay on the team.”

He sighed heavily through his nose, his swinging coming to a complete halt as he racked his brain.

"What can I do? My dad’s going to kill me I can’t get kicked off the team…”

“Well there are options” She replied and he cocked his head in a plea for her to elaborate.

“You could stay after school to pick up some extra credits and study in the library-“

“No can do. I have swim practice after school twice a week and basketball runs over on Thursdays.”

“Okay, you can find a tutor…"

He lulled over that idea in his head for a bit. He could have droves of girls just desperate to tutor him.

“Okay.”

————

“…And then he actually told Tommy H to shut up, it was so weird.”

Robin scoffed from her spot beside you in the yard, face twisted like that was the most revolting thing she’d ever heard.

“Tommy H is a douche. Even his own friends are getting sick of him.” She retorted, eyes rolling.

Before you could agree, the shrill sound of the bell ringing cut through your conversation and Robin let out a heavy sigh.

“Calculus.” She mumbled, shrugging her backpack further up her shoulder and turning back towards the building. “You coming?” She shot you an almost warning look over her shoulder.

You shook your head, much to her distaste.

“Think I’m gonna stay out here. Can’t handle that god-awful seating plan.”

“Seriously?” Your best friend sighed and you nodded. “Suit yourself I guess.” She added before turning fully on her heal and walking through the double doors.

You were no stranger to skipping, and with your almost perfect track record you could get away with it. You made your way to the back of the building, heading towards the alleyway behind the gym - your favorite spot for a private smoke break. It was out of the way of prying eyes and it was last period - you doubted anyone would come looking anyways.

You lit a cigarette between two fingers, your bag long discarded on the floor beside you as you pressed your back to the wall. That first drag always felt heavenly, and you relished in the feeling hitting the back of your throat.

Before you could take another drag, a voice startled you almost making you drop it all together.

"You're not supposed to smoke on school grounds y'know"

You turned and came face to face with none other than Steve Harrington, clad in those ridiculous basketball shorts and the matching shirt that was currently drenched in sweat. He wore that teasing grin, the one you'd seen far too much of in your four years of highschool.

You screwed your face up in disgust, exhaling the smoke in his direction before telling him to promptly fuck off.

"You're in my spot." He replied, still smirking like you hadn't just cussed him out.

"Your spot? Aren't you supposed to be playing basketball right now anyway?"

He shrugged, leaning back on the wall opposite you, much to your distaste.

"Got benched - so I left."

"I don't think that's how your supposed to play the game." You replied with an eye roll, dropping your cigarette and stamping it out on the floor beneath you.

"What are you the police? You're supposed to be in class right now too."

"I just think your a bad sport." It was your turn to be smug now.

He let out a frustrated huff of air as he crossed his arms tightly to his chest, silence washing over the pair of you as you lit another cigarette and began smoking it.

"Look, I'm sorry about Tommy, okay? He can be a dick sometimes." He finally spoke, the words leaving his mouth quickly like he was forcing himself to say them.

"Sometimes?" You grumbled, staring down at your shoes.

"You know what I mean. What he said about - about your Dad was out of line."

You exhaled your smoke at the ground before stamping out your second cigarette.

"Just forget it Harrington." You said through gritted teeth, swinging your bag over your shoulder and walking out of the dingy alleyway. You'd have to find a new place to skip, or better yet a new school.

-------

The rest of the week went by in a blur of late night shifts and early classes, and by Friday you were exhausted. You'd called Robin and asked her to hang out, which was to no avail, so you stayed at home with your Mom and Will for family movie night. Fridays were one of the only nights a week your Mom didn't work late, so the ritual was sacred to your little brother.

You rested on your elbows, watching the popcorn bag spin in the microwave as your Will decided on whatever sci-fi fantasy bullshit the three of you would be watching. After a few minutes you crossed the fresh-hold with 3 bowls of popcorn in hand as the beginning of Star Wars: A new hope played from the TV.

You weren't all that familiar with the Star Wars franchise, and by the middle of the movie you could tell your brother had had enough of your questions. You accepted your fate, leaning back in the arm chair and watching in pure confusion as your Mom and Will giggled and yelled at the screen.

The piercing sound of the phone ringing broke through the cacophony of sounds from the television and you exchanged confused looks with your brother as your Mom stood up to answer it. No one ever called at 9PM on a Friday night. Will turned his attention back to the TV, invested as you listened to your mother answer the call with a simple 'Hello' and then an 'Okay' a few moments later.

"It's for you. And it's a boy!" She gestured for you to come over, pressing a hand to the receiver, an act you were certain hadn't blocked out much sound at all.

You furrowed your brows in confusion, pulling yourself up from the arm chair and walking towards the phone's spot on the wall. You didn't really have male friends, so maybe it was Pete from work or some kind of prank.

"Hello?" You spoke into the receiver, twirling the cord between your fingers anxiously.

"Hey, It's Steve."

"Steve who?" You were almost certain which Steve it was by the deep voice coming from the other line, but you almost didn't want to believe your worst suspicions.

"Harrington."

What the fuck.

"Why are you calling me?" You hissed, genuinely confused, pulling the phone in closer to your ear. You cautiously turned to see your Mom and Will still engrossed in the TV and chatting about the movie. "How'd you get my number?"

"Nancy gave it to me." He responded blankly, as if this wasn't the weirdest call you could've possibly received. Nancy was your friend, sure, mainly because Robin and Barb were close.

"I wanted to ask a favor" He continued, and you gulped so loud you were sure he could hear it. Before you could even muster up a response, he spoke again.

"Will you tutor me?"

"What-" You started, but he cut you off again.

"Please, I'm almost failing. Ms Kelley said I needed a tutor." He sounded desperate.

"And you called me why?"

"I've called like - everyone." He sighed into the phone, "And you're like smart and stuff so..."

"My grades aren't even that brilliant, Steve I-"

"They're better than mine for sure. Didn't you get an A in that last english paper?"

English was your best subject, how he knew that you weren't too sure. You leaned your head against the wall the audible smacking sound making your Mom and Will turn their heads.

"And what's in it for me? Why should I help you?"

"I'd get Tommy and Carol to lay off you?" He replied, like he wasn't so sure of it himself.

You sighed into the phone.

"And I'd pay you!"

Your ears perked up a little at that; he was, like, the richest kid in school and you really could use that money. You went silent for a while, weighing up your options. You could get extra credit for tutoring, which would certainly improve your chances of getting into NYU, but you weren't sure if you could stomach spending more than an hour in the presence of Steve Harrington.

“Hello?” He muttered from the other line, and you pressed the receiver tightly into you shoulder.

“Fine.” You blurted, already regretting the words leaving your lips. “But only once a week. And in the school library.”

His triumphant ‘yes’ was near deafening and you winced at the sheer hyperbole of the situation. Then came the thank you’s, repeated so many times you were debating just hanging up right then and there.