head in the clouds, feet off the floor

He had known this was coming. But, after the last conversation with your grandfather, he hadn’t expected it to be this soon. And he definitely hadn’t anticipated the feeling of his heart sinking. 

He tried to shake it as he headed into his house, but it immediately resurfaced when he heard your voice floating through the halls of his home. He followed the sound to the kitchen and there you were sitting at the table across from his father. 

“Alright sweetie, that’s it for now. You think it all over, and just let me know what you plan to do. Whenever you decide, I’ll handle the rest.” 

“Sounds great, thank you again.’ 

“Of course.” 

Steve stood in the kitchen doorway listening, suddenly glancing down, very aware of the creaking floorboards under his feet. When he looked back up, you were looking right at him. 

He could’ve sworn your breath caught for half a second when you saw him or maybe that was wishful thinking. His sure did.

“Hi Peach.”

“Hi,” you replied. 

His father cleared his throat. “These ones are for you sweetheart, the rest are for me,” he said gathering paperwork from the table. “I’ll let you kids catch up.” 

His father walked toward the door, pausing just long enough to tap Steve lightly on the shoulder. “Don’t forget your mom and I are heading out tonight around nine, we’ll be back Wednesday.”

Steve nodded, with a faint smile, and a half hearted eye roll. Almost embarrassed for you to witness that in five years nearly nothing’s changed between him and his parents.

“Love ya, son.” 

“You too,” he mumbled as his father exited the kitchen.

You stood up from the table and Steve began moving closer towards you. He wasn’t sure what to do when he got near, but his mind screamed hug. Like the hug he never got before things ended, or the one he didn’t offer when your grandmother passed. He could picture it — fuck — he could almost feel it. The warmth of your body pressed against his, that intoxicating smell of your perfume filling his senses. But what if you didn’t fall back into that same rhythm? So instead, he just stood there, slipping his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

“Your dad told me my grandpa has you putting in work. Thanks you.I really appreciate you taking care of everything.” 

“Oh, I mean it’s no big deal. I’m glad I can help.” he cleared his throat. “Any idea what you’re gonna do?” 

“Not at all.” 

“No?” 

“No,” you repeated, glancing down at the papers on the table before looking back at him. “My initial thought was to sell. But my grandpa let it slip my grandma had wished for me to live there. And even though he told me to do whatever….” you sighed. “I don’t know. It feels wrong to just let it go, like I’m losing her all over again.” 

“I, uh… I’m really sorry about her passing.” 

You nodded softly. “Thank you. I know she was kinda gone when she was still here but it sucks. I’ve heard it’s supposed to get easer with time, but…”

“I think that’s just a line some asshole came up with.” 

A laugh slipped from your lips, and it felt like a distant memory breaking through. Steve cursed himself for forgetting it had once been his favorite sound. 

“I think you’re right,” you replied, gathering the the papers and tucking them against your chest as you began to walk toward the doorway. “I’d love to catch up… but I was actually gonna run to the store. There’s nothing in the house, and I haven’t eaten since the drive in.”

“How about we—” he started, then stopped. “Do you wanna go get dinner? My treat.”

You cocked your head to the side, a small smirk forming on your lips. "Benny's?"

Benny’s Burgers had always been kind of seedy. Nobody goes for the atmosphere. The food however, is phenomenal. Steve would also argue, it’s just got this feeling. It kind of feels like the most nostalgic thing about Hawkins — or maybe he just feels that way because of you.

After you two ordered, Steve led the way to the corner table, the same one you two would frequent since childhood. He noticed you check the wall as you sat down, as if to make sure your initials were still there. They are, permanently etched by that pocket knife he found the summer before sixth grade, when he said he had to to claim that spot as yours.

His gaze drifted down just below to the S.H. carved beneath. He hadn’t added those until senior year. One of those regular study dates when you split fries and a shake as you helped him cram for another test. You told him your initials looked lonely without his, and well, he couldn’t have that. 

“I’ve yet to have fries that have ever compared to this place,” you said pulling him out of his head. 

“I find that hard to believe.” 

“It’s true,” you insisted. “Nothing I’ve tried comes close.” 

The waitress dropped the food off then, earning a quick thank you from each of you. 

You hummed a soft moan at the first bite. Steve couldn’t help but smile at the sound. He was too busy watching you, to dig in to his own food.

“What? Do I have something on my face?" You asked, having noticed his staring.

“No, it’s nothing.” 

The two of you ate in a silence for a few minutes, the only sound was the music faintly playing in the restaurant. Steve wasn’t sure what to talk about, the car ride had been easy — his new truck the topic of discussion. This felt harder. He didn’t know where to start, he hasn’t known a single thing about your life beyond the bits your grandfather has dropped in the past few months. 

“Uh your grandpa mentioned you’ve been living in New York.” 

“Yeah, for the last few years.” 

“You didn’t want to stay in Chicago?” 

“I did at first. After my internship, they offered me a position.” You glanced down at your plate. “But a year in, I hated it. I was selling ads for things I didn’t care about, to people who didn’t care either. It was so.... empty and corporate. I couldn’t do it anymore.”  

“So, you just.. quit and moved to New York?” He asked, surprised. 

“Basically, yeah,” you laughed softly. “Ronnie and I concocted this plan, she was still in the dorms at NYU but Eddie had just moved to Brooklyn with, Jeff Hartley if you remember him.” 

Steve’s mouth fell open without thinking.

“Basically I had a free place to stay in return for helping them promote shows, getting them booked, stuff like that.” 

“Holy shit,” he said absentmindedly. 

Steve helped Eddie move into that same Brooklyn apartment — having become sort of accidental friends through Dustin. Every summer since, when Dustin tried to get Steve to join him on a trip to Brooklyn, Steve always had some excuse not to. Had you been there all this time?

You cocked your head, and Steve caught himself quickly. 

“I uh, I just heard Corroded Coffin was blowing up, did you have anything to do with that?” 

“Barely. I had a hand in getting their foot in the door but the recent stuff — that’s all them.”

“That’s still really cool. Are you involved in any of it anymore?”

“Sadly no,” you replied. “I was for awhile but they met this guy in the industry. Since we had a bartering situation, Eddie only agreed to hire him if he’d get me a job first. So this guy - Jake, hooked me up at this venue, and I helped promote other bands and shows, sometimes Corroded Coffin.” 

The name Jake rang in Steve’s mind the minute you said it. 

He was only half listening, while half remembering a conversation with Dustin back in November — something about getting in touch with Eddie’s manager to get Corroded Coffin to play a campus show. Dustin was always throwing around all sorts of names Steve didn’t know. But now it all clicked. 

Dustin had needed to get in touch with Jake’s girlfriend about show promotion. He’d even said your name, Steve was sure of it. Of course, Steve never would have thought it was you. Up until six months ago he thought you had been in Chicago this whole time. 

“But I left the music stuff a few months ago,” you continued, seemingly oblivious to the way his thoughts had drifted. 

“What are you up to now?” 

“Ad work,” you laughed, covering your face with your hand in embarrassment. “I’ve been freelancing for fragrance companies, so it’s different then it was in Chicago — there’s actually some creative freedom.” 

“So, it”s still something you like?” 

“It pays well,” you said with a small smile. “But enough about me.” You tilted your head slightly. “What about you? Y’know the hat kind of threw me off — I don’t think I’ve ever seen you not have your hair done since we were kids.” 

“Comes with the job,” he laughed. “Last year, I started as the head baseball coach at Hawkins middle.”

“Coach Steve has a great ring to it,” you said twirling the straw of your milkshake.

“It’s a pretty good gig… with one condition,” he paused.  “They have me teaching sex ed.”

“Ohhhh wow,” you nodded, teeth caught between your lips as you beamed at him. “I truly don’t think anything could be more fitting.”

The two of you erupted in a fit of laughter. 

From there, the conversation continued — scraping gently at the surface of the past five years, filling each other in on small, scattered details. He mentioned that your grandfather sounded happy living with your folks in Indianapolis. You told him it’s a brave facade, and he misses Hawkins. That opened the door to more stories  — about who still lived where, old high school friends, and the differences between small Midwest life, and Brooklyn. 

Eventually, you brought up Dustin mentioning that he hadn’t recognized you, and you never felt compelled to remind him you'd met through Steve. Steve wondered why not. It felt strangely unfair, like for years, you’d gotten little pieces of his life, while he’d been kept almost entirely in the dark about yours.

And that imbalance was most clear the moment you said,  “Is it true that you were engaged?” 

Steve’s grip tightened around his drink. “Yeah, I uh, I was.” 

“Mhm,” you said dipping another fry into your shake. You took a bite and pointed the remaining fry at him. “Can I be nosey?” 

Steve huffed softly, “What do you wanna know?” 

“Anything. I practically gave you my life story of the last five years and you’ve given me crumbs.” 

“That’s just not true,” he laughed taking off the baseball hat, and running his hands through his hair for some sense of grounding.

“Oh there’s the Steve, I remember. Y’know I was a little worried you’d actually gone bald on top.” 

“Oh, I did. This a a toupee,” he said gesturing to his scalp. “That’s why the engagement ended actually.”

“Right, of course. Bald’s a dealbreaker.” 

He laughed, and put his hat back on. “No, uh, it was just dumb love. Jumped in way too soon, didn’t talk about any logistics.” 

“Yikes,” you said shrugging. “Yeah, lack of communication can definitely put a damper on things.” 

That was the first nod towards your shared history, Steve was sure of it.

“If it’s any consolation I think you probably saved yourself with that one. Marriage is a bit overrated.” 

The words caught Steve off guard and you must’ve been able to tell. 

“Wow… that sounded way more cynical than I meant.” 

“You’re probably right,” He nodded, mulling over yours words. They did sound cynical. Which wasn’t wrong — it just didn’t sound right coming from you. Not when, at ten years old, you used to ramble about marriage, all your wedding plans, from the flowers to the dress. 

The two of you finished the meal, and you thanked him as you slid out of the booth and made your way outside. 

“I really can’t believe you wrecked the Beemer,” you said as you climbed into his truck. 

“Still hurts,” Steve said, tapping the steering wheel, before starting the engine.  

Steve glanced at the clock. He had about 30 minutes before he was supposed to meet Robin. He started down Mulberry and wondered if you realized he was taking the long way home. If you did, you didn’t say anything. Instead, you only talked about the scenery. 

And somewhere between one backroad and the next, Steve realized he wasn’t ready for the night to end. He didn’t want to lose this — the way the awkwardness had finally dissolved and it felt like five years suddenly didn’t seem so far apart.

At the stop sign on Culver, he turned toward you.  

“My best friend’s actually in town tonight. I’m supposed to meet her at this bar, would you-“

“A drink sounds great,” you cut in. 

Steve nodded, and changed the route. 

The bar was the one spot in driving distance to Hawkins that didn’t feel like some Midwest shithole, which meant it was always packed. 

When you two made it inside, Steve weaved through the crowd towards the bar, grabbing your hand so you wouldnt lag behind.

Robin spotted him first, calling out as she pushed through the crowd. She immediately pulled Steve into a hug, causing him to release your hand in the process. 

“Good to see you too, Buckley,” he wheezed.  

“Missed you,” she said, laughing, already pulling back — eyes landing on you. “Who’s the babe? She looks familiar.” 

That same giggle from the kitchen fell from your lips, and Steve felt dizzy from it. 

“Robin, this is—“

“Peach,” you cut in. 

He paused, unsure whether you’d said it for his sake, or yours. 

Robin’s mouth dropped. “Oh my god. Like the Peach?” She asked, glancing toward Steve.

He let out a hollow laugh, “Yeah..” 

“How exciting! I met Steve like right in the aftermath—“ 

“Robin,” he said flatly. 

“What?” 

Steve rolled his eyes as she continued. 

“I’ve just heard a lot about you.” 

“Nice to meet you, I’m sorry I’m crashing—“

“Nope — no apologies, only shots,” she said with a smirk. “Vodka or Tequila?’ 

After the third round of of tequila shots, the three of you nursed your preferred choice of drinks at a hightop in the corner. 

The heart of the conversation kicking off with Robin asking about Steve as a kid, and you began flooding her with details so specific he had almost forgotten himself. 

When you’d told her why you were back in town, she scoffed at the idea of ever moving back to Hawkins. So Steve took the opportunity to ask her about life in Boston.

Somewhere during Robin’s rants and raves he’d zoned out, unsure if it was it was the alcohol, or that constant flicker in your eye every time Robin made you laugh. By his second drink, the condensation on his fingertips, the thrum of the music, and the sound of your voice had him transported back to New Year’s Eve ’85. The last time you two had been properly drunk together. 

That was until he overheard Robin comparing you to sunshine.

“What do you mean?” you asked, taking a sip of your drink.  

“You’re just exactly as Steve described you.” 

“Oh, yeah? What did he say exactly?” 

“I don’t remember, it was something far too profound for that big head of his” 

He remembered it.

It had been a slow shift at family video, Steve was half listening to Robin as he stocked the new arrivals. She’d been complaining about their coworker Keith, that it was like he had a little raincloud following him or something. 

Steve had replied absently that some people were like that just.. draining. Then he’d added, “I knew someone who was like the complete opposite, I swear she was… fucking sunlight incarnate.” 

Robin went so uncharacteristically silent at that, that Steve paused his stocking, to glance at her. 

She looked deep in thought, but before he could question it she’d said “Oh,  Peach?”

You turned toward him, that curious little smirk on your face, but he shook his head. Didn’t say anything, just steered the conversation elsewhere.

Somehow the topic of jobs came up, and Robin mentioned Scoops Ahoy.

“Oh, I love that place! There was one right by my apartment in Chicago.” 

“You wouldn’t if you worked there,”  Steve said, and Robin agreed immediately, saying it was probably the worst job they’d ever had together. 

You said you couldn’t pick the worst ad you ever worked on, because you truly hated them all. So instead you talked about your favorite bands you promoted and Robin instantly lit up. She went into a full tangent about her time as Rockin’ Robin, until mid conversation she spotted an ex across the bar. 

It turned into a spiral of whether or not she should go over, but Steve just watched as you encouraged her. 

“Would you hate me, if I go?” She asked him, pouting.

Steve shook his head, as Robin pulled him into a hug, “I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

“It was so good to meet you finally,” she said giving you a hug. 

You shared the sentiment, and then watched her go, looking down at your mostly empty glass. “I think I’ve hit my limit.”

“Same,” he mumbled glancing over at you. “We could grab waters. Sober up in my truck?” 

“We could,” you replied. “Or we could walk.”

“Walk?”

“Mm-hmm, it’s not that far.” 

“It’s like over an hour,” he countered. 

“So?”

“So… that’s an hour of walking. Drunk walking.” 

“It’s an hour of fresh air. I never get that kind of thing in the city.” A smile smile tugged at your mouth. “Please, Stevie?’ 

That got a reluctant sigh out of him. “Okay. Let’s walk.” 

Steve’s ears rang slightly with the newfound silence as he stepped out of the bar. The sound of bass replaced by crickets and the crunch of loose pebbles beneath his feet. 

You were already a few steps ahead of him as you wandered down the sidewalk, a little wobbly with each step.

“Steve,” you called lightly, turning around and continuing to walk backwards. “Why are you walking so slow?”

“I’m enjoying the view.” 

“Jesus Christ,” you muttered. “was that a line?” 

Steve grinned. “No.” 

You shook your head, like you were annoyed but Steve could tell you were smiling as you turned around.

For awhile it was like that. Walking threaded with small talk — the kind where little truths slip because the alcohol has loosened all inhibitions. 

“You know.. it’s actually unfair how pretty you still are,” you said, around the half way point. 

Steve wasn’t sure he heard correctly. “What?”

“You’re pretty.” 

“You’re drunk.”

“Very drunk,” you laughed turning towards him. “But, I mean it. I like the scruff.”

He didn’t move, just stared at you, his lips quirking into a smirk as he chuckled softly.

You looked away first, continuing your stride, as the two of you settled into a rhythm of things you’d liked for the past few years — tv shows, movies, snacks and music.

“So… your fiancee,” you asked walking past the high school.

“Ex,” he corrected. 

“Right. Did I know her?” 

“No.”

“Hawkins is so small, I just figured..” 

“She was from Michigan.” 

“Ah,” you nodded thoughtfully, hesitating before you continued. “How would you describe her?’

Steve looked over, slightly amused. “Why?”

“I’m just curious.”  

He moved his hands into his pockets as he searched for the words. “She was…. amazing. Like always knew what to do, and how to take care of people.” 

“Sounds like you.”

His breath shuddered at the sincerity in your voice. 

“Sure… I guess, but she’s smart, like scary smart and incredibly kind.” 

“Would you say she’s like sunshine too?” 

Steve’s mouth fell slack at the way that slipped off your tongue so delicately. 

He almost wanted to correct you, tell you that Robin was close but it wasn’t sunshine. It was more than that. That to him, you would always be sunlight incarnate, the type of warmth and light that makes him feel alive just by being in your presence. But he'd sobered up just enough to realize he couldn't say any of that out loud.

He shook his head. “No.” 

You didn’t reply, just nodded and continued to walk for another few blocks before eventually stopping and abruptly taking a seat on the curb. 

Steve looked over immediately. “You okay?” 

“Mmm, I just — why the hell did I think walking was a good idea?”

“Fresh air,” he reminded you.

“Well, I’m over it. I think it’s giving me a migraine at this point.” 

“Right, that’s definitely not because of the alcohol…” he laughed sitting down next to you, elbows resting on his knees. “At least we’re almost there.” 

You nodded, but you didn’t speak. 

And Steve could see it, the way your body was tensing up as you zoned out at the road. 

“Hey — hey are you okay?” 

“I’m fine.” 

He didn’t believe you. Not for a second. Not when he’d spent the entire day looking into those beautiful eyes, and not once did they ever look this glossy. 

“Peach are you sure, you look like you’re gonna cry.” 

“Fuck,” you breathed out dragging a hand over your face. “I’m sorry — I’m fine. I just — I haven’t felt like myself in awhile.” 

Steve breathed out your name in a sigh, and it felt foreign in his mouth. The look on your face when he said it, made him sick.  

A small sound escaped you, a cross between a scoff and a laugh. “Jake - Eddie's manager, we were dating and uh, he wanted to propose a few months ago.” 

Steve’s breathing stilled, “Oh.”

“He never got the ring we just talked about it, and I realized in that moment, that my life didn’t feel like mine. Like… I couldn’t tell where he ended and I began and that scared the shit out of me.” 

You exhaled deeply, wiping at your eyes at the few tears that had fallen. 

“I felt… caged all of a sudden… so I ended it. Our relationship, my job, distanced myself from all of my fucking friends because they became our friends…” you sighed.

Steve nodded, trying to process what you were saying but suddenly focused on the way his chest felt tight.

“For fuck’s sake Steve, I’ve been going by Peach the last few months because my name doesn’t even feel like mine anymore.”

Steve’s mouth fell open in a sigh that he hadn’t meant to be audible, half spoken like something he couldn’t contain but he couldn’t find any actual words for. 

He watched as you began to fidget with the grass of the tree lawn, sitting in the silence that neither of you interrupted.

“I’m sorry… clearly tequila and I don’t mix well,” you sighed. “Feeling like this and hearing what you said about me…”  

“I meant it." The words felt painfully insufficient.

“Well thank you, because I obviously needed to hear it.” 

Steve felt the shift that this moment had cracked open everything and if he left it pass he’d continue harboring regret. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “About not coming to say goodbye. About—” 

“Please don’t,” you cut in with a dry laugh. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not, I should have, I promised I would. We didn’t even see each other at graduation. I didn’t-“

“Steve, I could’ve come to goodbye when I realized you weren’t. It’s not all on you.”

The relief that left his chest felt like a pressure release. 

“But I am curious, why didn’t you?” 

Steve paused for a moment, fingers drumming softly on his knee. “’Y’know, I had a reason back then,” he admitted quietly. “I just don’t remember it anymore.” 

That was the worst part. Years had passed and he’d never stopped thinking about you. Regret hanging heavy that he let insecurity ruin something he’d cherished so much, and for what? Something he hadn’t been able to remember.

“We were just kids,” you said, wiping your hands on your jeans before standing, extending your arm out to him to help him up.

Steve stood, and the two of you started to walk again, though neither of you spoke. The silence wasn’t loaded, or awkward, in fact it was the most comfortable it had been all night.

When you reached his street, you slowed first and he matched your pace without thinking as his house came into view. 

A few steps later, and you paused, tipping your chin towards your grandpa’s driveway, “Hey.” 

Steve followed your gaze to your car. “Oh no,” he said immediately, shaking his head. 

You were smiling before he even finished speaking, your hand lifting into a fist and tapping into his shoulder. “Punch Buggy, no punch back!” 

“I haven’t missed that.” 

“Liar,” you smiled as you continued to walked toward the car. “Do you want a ride to your truck tomorrow?” 

“Oh that’s okay, Robin will be over so…” 

“Right,” you smiled as you continued up the driveway, the same comfortable silence settling back in, as you reached the front porch. 

“Well, thanks for saving me from grocery shopping and whatever tragic fate tv dinner and reruns would’ve been.” 

He huffed a small laugh. “Of course, thanks for coming out.” 

You began to walk towards the door but turned around mid step, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and pulling him into a hug. 

Steve’s body went rigid for a split second, before his hands wrapped around your waist pulling you into his chest with a heavy sigh, as he buried his face into your neck.

Exactly like he remembered.

You gave a final tight squeeze, before letting go. “Night, Stevie."

“Goodnight Peach,” he whispered back as you headed inside.