SUCH A PRETTY THING.

“And then she just paid for the chips and left! Just like that! I’m telling you, she’s avoiding me. Nance doesn’t eat chips like that. They’re for Jonathan. She’s just—” It was as if the wound was brand new, one single Nancy sighting hitting Steve like a tidal wave of feelings he had yet to let go of. Four months. Jonathan came back to Hawkins four months ago and Steve was still hung up as if Nancy was actually his girlfriend or something. She wasn’t, for the record. She hadn’t been for two years now, but Steve swore they’d been heading in that direction before the fucking Byers showed up again.

The sound of Max’s wheelchair knicking the coffee table pulled Steve from his self-inflicted soap opera. The spaghetti-os he insisted on for lunch (one of the only meals he thought he could wing) were boiling—or better yet, had been boiling—for a full minute now, reducing them down to a thick paste of tomato sauce and overcooked noodle rings.

All around them people rushed by, a panic so palpable that no one even noticed the two teenagers dressed in war garb, meandering through the hospital with their hands clasped and their clothes stained with blood. Though his body was present, Steve’s mind had checked out long ago.

Sometime between sending their friends off to the ICU and Robin convincing him to go home, a doctor managed to patch Steve’s bat wounds. As the needle entered his skin, stitching up every gnarly bite, Steve felt nothing. Not a pinch. His body was still in shock, the adrenaline coursing through his veins and numbing everything both physical and emotional.

They bummed a ride from the Wheelers, Nancy in the front seat with her eyes glued to the window, with Steve and Robin in the back glued to each other. Karen rambled on about how worried she’d been—how worried “everyone’s” parents had been—about them running around with a murder suspect at a time like this, but no one had it in them to argue or defend Eddie’s name. At least, not until it hit Steve that Eddie might have just very well lost his life to save a town that still saw him as nothing more than a villain. A murderer, of all things.

“He didn’t hurt those kids. He was a hero.” His eyes made contact with Karen’s in the rearview mirror, and although Steve’s words probably meant very little to the woman, at least it got her to change the subject back to worrying about Mike.

Steve’s house was empty as usual, but for once he was thankful there was no one around to ask questions. The silence, however, was deafening. The moment it hit his ears Steve found the adrenaline beginning to seep away, the aches and pains of his body becoming apparent. He looked to Robin, his hand still in hers like two otters afraid of floating apart from one another—just like she always said. He smoothed his fingers over the backs of her knuckles, checking her for superficial scrapes or bruises he might have missed in all the chaos.

The  deeper  they  sank  into  the  ease  of  their  attraction,  the  more  Steve  wondered  what  in  the  hell  they  were  doing.  The  flirting,  the  hand  holding,  the  kissing—all  of  it  was  physical.  Sure  Eddie  mentioned  having  wanted  to  kiss  him  for  a  while,  but  what  if  their  attraction  ended  there?  Things  were  so  new,  and  raw,  and  fragile  between  them.  One  wrong  move  and  the  whole  thing  could  come  crumbling  down,  and  Steve  was  set  on  not  being  the  idiot  to  ruin  it  all  in  one  blow.

Because  even  if  he  was  no  more  than  just  some  dumb  Mr.  Popular  fantasy  Eddie  dreamed  of  ticking  off  his  gay  list,  at  least  it  was  something.  It  was  breadcrumbs  from  a  guy  who,  against  all  fucking  odds,  stole  Steve’s  heart.  He  couldn’t  take  asking  Eddie  any  questions  about  feelings  if  all  he’d  get  back  was  confirmation  over  this  being  no  more  than  a  fun  weekend  fling.  That  hurt,  it  always  did,  but  hearing  it  from  Eddie  would  be  crushing.

Luckily,  Steve  was  well  versed  in  the  art  of  playing  it  cool.  Despite  the  steady  stream  of  worries  cycling  through  his  head,  on  the  outside  everything  appeared  as  light  as  air.  A  joke  here,  some  flirting  there.  Cool  Steve  Harrington,  just  as  everyone  expected.

They  came  in  through  the  garage  with  their  hands  full,  making  a  beeline  for  the  kitchen  where  they  could  finally  relieve  themselves  of  the  weight  of  all  their  bags.  He  waited  for  the  flood  of  comments  to  come  rolling  in  as  he  unpacked  their  haul.  The  wow,  dude,  your  house  is,  like,  so  big!!!  or  the  usual  so  this  is  the  infamous  Harrington  House!  There  was  nothing  he  hadn’t  heard  before.  His  parents  would’ve  eaten  that  shit  right  up.

“We’ve  got  probably  less  than  an  hour  before  Henderson  starts  pounding  on  that  door,  so  if  you  need  a  minute  to—whatever—before  everyone  comes  by,  I  can  finish  setting  things  up.”    He  was  already  separating  bags  of  snacks  into  various  bowls,  shoulder  playfully  bumping  Eddie’s  whenever  he  stood  blocking  his  way,  just  as  some  lame  excuse  to  keep  touching  him.

Steve  still  looked  smitten  every  time  they  caught  each  other’s  eye,  their  gazes  locked  as  if  they  were  mere  seconds  away  from  being  pulled  back  together  again  like  a  couple  of  magnets.  Jesus,  those  brown  eyes  did  something  to  him,  sending  a  rush  of  heat  through  his  entire  body  every  time  Eddie  stared.  If  he  wasn’t  lost  in  those  brown  eyes,  Steve  was  watching  Eddie’s  lips,  wishing  they  could  pick  up  where  they’d  left  off  in  that  trailer  park.  

"The  king  of  lore,  master  of  dungeons,  expert  at  memorizing  the  weirdest,  most  specific  nerd  shit  I’ve  ever  heard  in  my  entire  life…  and  you  can’t  remember  which  side  your  graduation  tassel  starts  on?”    Despite  the  jab,  there  were  no  teeth  in  Steve  words,  no  weight  in  the  amused  scoff  that  fell  from  his  lips  as  he  simply  flipped  Eddie’s  tassel  over  to  the  right.    “It  starts  on  your  right  and  crosses  over  to  your  left.”    He  demonstrated  by  switching  the  tassel  over  himself,  then  flipping  it  back  where  it  belonged.    “All  else  fails,  look  around  and  see  what  side  the  people  in  your  row  have  it  on.  That’s  what  I  did.”

Though  his  hand  flinched  away  out  of  habit  when  a  group  of  sophomore  girls  went  running  by,  Steve  quickly  remembered  what  today  meant  for  the  two  of  them  and  instead  settled  both  his  hands  on  Eddie’s  shoulders  with  a  renewed  sense  of  confidence.  It  wasn’t  so  much  that  Steve  wasn’t  nervous  about  their  plans,  it  was  just  that  today  wasn’t  about  Steve  at  all.  Hell,  it  was  barely  even  about  them,  despite  those  big  plans.  Today,  above  all  else,  was  about  Eddie  Munson  walking  across  that  stage  and  getting  the  hell  out  of  Hawkins  High  once  and  for  all.  Steve  wasn’t  willing  to  ruin  that  by  allowing  Eddie  to  feed  off  his  nerves.

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