through it all, i miss you, babe

spending the past few days constantly together bidding you all in comfortable silence as you enjoy each other’s company, awaiting robin’s next random stream of thoughts. the summer break from high school and boredom leading to spending a majority of time together, you and eddie more-so whenever robin had work.

and those times with just the two of you inevitably led to the same topic; steve. whenever that same car would drive down the trailer park, dropping robin off following with loud bickering between the pair as steve rolls up the window, eddie would always nudge you before beginning his usual teasing.

this quickly prompting robin to join as she strolls in, throwing her family video vest aside, “steve was asking how you were today!” wiggling her eyebrows, “that’s normal, friendly stuff,” robin tutting at your reply, “then why didn’t he ask how eddie was?”.

“ouch, hurtful. and to think, i thought he’s hot as well,” eddie would reply with faux offence.

currently, you lay with your stomach on the floor while reading intricately over eddie’s record collection, foot tapping along to the music he played on his guitar while robin used eddie’s black nail polish to messily paint her fingernails.

“you think becky’s hot?” robin suddenly asked into the silence, lips quirking into a thinking expression as you and eddie continue what you’re doing while replying, “from english? yeah, she’s cute,” eddie replies, fingers slowing down as he responds, “y/n?”.

you tear your glance away from eddie’s mötley crüe ‘theatre of pain’ vinyl and towards the pair on the bed, “who’s becky?”. eddie tuts, “becky, really tan with long black hair, always has that pair of yellow sunglasses on top of her head but never actually wears them over her eyes,” unsure, you shrug your shoulder at eddie’s description, “sorry.”

"too busy thinking of steve to notice anyone else,” robin quips back through her stuck-out tongue while she concentrates on her small pinkie fingernail, not noticing the way you throw your head back annoyed, eddie watching you with a smug grin as always, “it’s true.”

“no, it’s incredibly rude,” you interject, sending them a glare before turning back interestingly to the vinyl at hand, “sorry, babe. but it’s incredibly true.” you settle the album aside while picking up a different one, mumbling under you’re breath, “you’re incredibly wrong.”

“you’re both incredibly annoying,” eddie interrupts, sitting up from laying on his back and resting his guitar aside while he squishes the remainder of his cigarette off the ashtray by his bed. he clasps his hands in his lap while sighing at you, “but robin’s right, and we need to do something about it.”

you scoff at his words, “we don’t need to do anything, there’s nothing there to do about it.” eddie scrunches his eyes while he shouts, “will you stop disagreeing? god, you’re so defensive whenever we mention his name!”

“eddie! you made me mess up my pinkie,” robin replies, loud and disappointed as she shows him the smudge from when she flinched at his high-pitch tone. “that’s not our focus, nail polish can be fixed but what we need to fix first is the massive cloud over y/n’s fucking eyes that’s keeping 'em from seeing clearly.”

another scoff falls from eddie’s analogy, “i can see perfectly fine.” robin sets the nail polish aside while she places her hands on either thigh to try and allow them to dry, distracting herself in the conversation to be patient, “so can we, which is why we can see the heart eyes you both have for each other when you’re both in the same room.”

you glance at her, a smidgen of hope flooding your veins which you try to push aside by looking away at the wall beside you instead, “ha! see! you should have seen your face, you want steve to like you back, admit it!” you shake your head at eddie’s words, “stop it, both of you. i don’t care.”

they both laugh in disbelief, “well, he should be on his way to pick robin up, and at any given chance, i’m throwing you at him,” robin giggles at eddie and your gaping reaction as you put his records back and sit up properly, “maybe y/n won’t be able to make it to the movie tomorrow if they both go to their own one?”.

your nerves shatter at the thought as time passes by, all too quickly as steve arrives. robin and eddie non-stop talking about the way you pretend you don’t have a crush on steve, trying to shake the butterflies from your stomach as you drink some water in eddie’s kitchen, thinking about seeing steve’s pretty eyes in merely minutes.

ignoring their voices from eddie’s bedroom, you walk towards the front door as it knocks, snapping you from your tenth reverie of steve today, hard not to when they mention him a lot. and your heart tugs when your eyes connect with the wide brown ones you were just daydreaming of.

“hey, you,” he smiles, far too warmly it nearly makes you weak in the knees as you mutter a weak ‘hello’ back before realising robin and eddie are not-so-quietly talking about the man in front of you from the bedroom, and your badly hidden crush on him.

“robin! robin! steve’s here for you,” you shout, trying to cut them off in case steve hears. robin letting out, “oh shit,” as her and eddie scramble around quickly. “uh— you— you look great,” steve awkwardly states as he scratches the scruff of his chin, eyes darting across either of yours awaiting a reaction.

“you too, how are you?” you begin, “yeah, all good…” he trails off, clearing his throat with a pause before continuing, “actually, i’ve been meaning to ask—” but as steve goes to reply, he’s cut off by your best friends scrambling into the room and standing behind you.

you miss steve’s disappointed expression upon his interrupted enquiry.

eddie glances between you both with a high grin, “oh hey, harrington. wasn’t expecting you here, cigarette?” voice muffled with a new one between his lips. he was expecting steve here, what a stupid statement, you think while eddie holds his pack out to steve over your shoulder, but steve holds up his hand while shaking his head, “i’m alright, thanks.”

“wanna come in?” eddie continues, you sigh lightly at eddie’s continuous attempts, ignoring the push of his foot against your leg as if to tell you his plans, like they weren’t as clear as day to you. but steve’s big eyes looked innocent with a followed smile, “nah, man. gotta pick up dustin from the wheeler’s next, always seem to be the taxi these days.”

eddie laughs, “alright, give that little sucker a message from me,” steve’s eyebrows rising questioningly, “what would you like me to say?”, eddie shrugs, “i don’t know, make something up for me.” steve can see the way you close your eyes with a sharp breath of embarrassment when he chuckles a quick ‘alright.’

“need a ride?” steve doesn’t notice the way robin and eddie look at each other upon his question to you, but before you can answer, plans to stay at eddie’s as normal shatter when robin steps forward. “that’s perfect, saves eddie the car journey tomorrow, thanks little steve,” she pats your shoulder before gently pushing you forward and towards steve.

“good god, does this mean i don’t have to sleep on the couch tonight?” eddie jokingly mumbles under his breath as he guides you towards the door where you all begin to leave, making sure you don’t run away with his grip on your shoulders.

you glance from robin back to eddie, “sure you don’t need me to stay, you know? with your nightmares?”. you both knew eddie didn’t have nightmares, but eddie plays along anyway, “you’ve overstayed your visit. knowing you’re in pretty boy steve’s hands is good enough for me to sleep peacefully in my bed tonight.”

your entire face is warm from the situation as you are walked down the steps, passed over to robin as if they are kidnapping you into steve’s car, him completely oblivious as he walks to the driver’s seat, a slight moping pout on his lips.

little did you know steve had gone in an unbelievable mood with robin in the car upon ruining his sudden chance at finally asking you out. maybe trying to offer a date while your chaotic best friends are around wasn’t the best idea he ever had.

and maybe, just maybe, there’s a reason steve takes the route to robin’s house despite you living closer, one that robin doesn’t question in hopes of the pining glances coming to end once she left you both alone in the car. and robin hopes to get an excited phone call from steve later where she can invite steve to your movie day tomorrow.

⤸

taglist form . the library . all blurbs

steve harrington; masterlist . blurbs

eddie munson; masterlist . blurbs

Benedict stepped quickly to the side, watching another of Miss Y/L/N’s possible suitors rushing out of the front gate. It was hardly a secret that Y/N had a habit of scaring her suitors away; whether that be by speaking out of term or acting out of character, they always ran away. His eyes pan up to the front door, hiding his laugh behind his hand as he finds her standing at the door, waving the poor chap goodbye.

“Ah, Mr Bridgerton,” Y/N greets him, dropping her hand. She waits, watching Benedict move up the garden path and ascend the front steps of her uncle’s house. “What can I do for you on this pleasant morning?” She asks, looking up at the familiar Bridgerton. Colin was the Bridgerton who was closest in age to her but, through her uncle’s close friendship with their late father, Y/N knew all the Bridgertons.

“You have a little-” Benedict doesn’t finish his sentence, lifting his hand to wipe away the smudge of black coal with the pad of his thumb. Their eyes catch, his touch lingering on her cheek as he waits for a second to pull away. He rubs the chalky black substance between his finger and thumb, recognising it to be coal. “Have we been playing in the fireplace?” A light chuckle escapes as she lifts her hands, the tips of her fingers, stained black from the coal, wiggling in the air as if to say: you caught me. The smile, though faded from his face, still hung in his eyes. “This is for your uncle and yourself,” Benedict tells her, flashing the crisp white envelope, “my mother has invited you both for dinner, tonight.”

Y/N plucked the invitation from his hand. “Well, I shall get this to my uncle straight away.” Her hand disappears behind the door, a maid ready to take the envelope from her. “Now,” she clears her throat, spying another young suitor, with a quiff of blonde curls, standing at the gate, “I think have one more suitor to scare off today.”

Benedict glanced over his shoulder, another light chuckle escaping him. “Then I bid you good luck.”

Later that evening, Y/N sat amongst the Bridgerton household, squished on the sofa between Eloise and Francesca, as the rest engaged in a conversation of sorts. Colin was telling tales of his travels across Europe to her uncle, a particular night in Paris capturing his attention. A tale of which Y/N would’ve liked to have heard if she hadn’t been preoccupied with dodging the pieces of marzipan Gregory had been flinging at his sisters. Eloise was telling anyone who would listen about the latest Lady Whistledown pamphlet and the Dowager Viscountess had been interrogating her on possible suitors. Y/N just nodded her head and smiled, answering that she had a lot to think about.

She felt a wash of relief when Violet turns her attention to her eldest son, stumbling in late and missing dinner. A glass of wine is quickly fixed for Anthony, who fell quickly into conversation with Benedict. Y/N could only presume that they were discussing the matter of why Anthony had missed dinner. She sighs, eyes panning around the room for something interesting to capture her attention. “I need some air,” she announces, interrupting Eloise midsentence and standing to her feet.

She was only outside for a few minutes before her peace was interrupted by a Bridgerton. She remained silent as Benedict took a seat on the other swing, his arms hooking around the thick pieces of rope. Like the rest of the Bridgerton children, Benedict had been blessed with the Bridgerton beauty the family was known for and even Y/N wasn’t blind to it. It didn’t matter how many years she had known the affluent family, a smile from a Bridgerton son left her cheeks feeling warm and a flutter of butterflies in her stomach. She had no doubt that Gregory too would become as dashing as his older brothers, with a long line of mothers and their daughters waiting once it was his turn to find a bride.

Benedict looks up, the pale crescent moon shining like a silvery claw in the night sky, before glancing across at Y/N. He saw the reflection of the stars in her eyes, the same eyes he had heard her once be told resembled her late mother’s. “Do you miss your parents?” He asks with a calm voice.

“I guess so.”

“You guess so?”

“I was young when they both passed away - a little bit younger than Gregory was when your father passed away - so any real memories I have of them are hard to remember now.” For as long as she could remember, Y/N had only ever been in the care of her uncle. She had the stories he would tell her about her and a miniature of her mother to remember them by, but the real memories had faded with time. She meets his gaze, a source of warmth residing in his eyes “I miss them, yes,” she nods her head, “but I never want to dwell on the thought of never truly getting to know them.”

“Of course not,” Benedict utters, securing his hands tightly around the two pieces of rope, “not when you have plenty of suitors to scare away.” He smiles when she smiles, turning his head away for a second to hide the blush that cascades across his cheeks and over the bridge of his nose. “Why do you scare them away?” He asks out of curiosity. “Do none of them offer you a suitable life?”

“Oh, no, many of them offer me a suitable life,” she shakes her head, “but they’re either boring and double my age or they’re boring and my own age. They waltz in with bouquets of roses - I hate roses - and expect me to accept their proposal because of their standing in society or because they have accumulated vast wealth in land and property. None of them actually possess the ability to woo a lady, in fact, I believe I have more knowledge of how to woo a lady stored away in my little finger than they do in their entire body.” Benedict’s laugh causes her to realise she was rambling, her head hanging low as she looks away from him. She pushes her feet into the soft ground, gently swinging herself backwards and forth in a slow motion. “Anyway, like I said,” she clears her throat, “they’re boring.”

“And you want to be wooed, do you?” Her cheeks flush with warmth as he innocently teases her. Benedict leans across a little, his temple resting against the rough piece of rope. “And how would one go about wooing the likes of Miss Y/F/N Y/L/N?”

Her eyes flicker to look at him but she quickly loses the confidence to hold his gaze. “I like poetry,” she tells him, of which she knew he liked too, “I want them to have conversations with me about the things I’m interested in like Helen of Troy and various other elements of Greek mythology.” She looks at him again. “And definitely no roses.”

“She walks in beauty, like night of cloudless climes and starry skies,” Benedict recites, “and all that’s best of dark and bright meet in her aspect and her eyes.” He pulls her in, reciting a poem by a poet he knew she liked, with a voice so soft it compels her to look and listen. “Thus mellowed to that tender light which heaven to gaudy day denies-”

“For a man who doesn’t like Byron you know his words by heart,” Y/N interrupts him, fearing he may trap her under some kind of spell if she allowed him to continue.

Benedict nods his head, agreeing with her, “you’re right, I don’t like him, but I know you do.” Another smile, sweeter than the last. “Which I will judge you for later,” he adds, making them both laugh.

He studies her and listens to her laugh. It’s sweet and has a melodic sense to it like music his ears were keen to hear again. She was beautiful, with eyes that sparkled under the stars and shined brighter in the day, and a smile that warmed his entire being just by seeing it. She was beautiful and not just to the eye, her soul was beautiful too.

“Benedict,” her voice pulls him from his trance, “you’re staring. Is everything-”

“You are beautiful.”

The swinging stops abruptly, her heels digging into the ground and her hands dropping from the ropes. Her eyes widened and her breath hitched in her throat when she tried to speak. No one had ever called her beautiful before. Sure, they had said she had nice eyes or a sweet smile but never has anyone ever uttered the word beautiful to her.

Shake shakes her head, dismissing him, “no, I’m not.”

“You are more beautiful than Helen of Troy herself,” Benedict counters her dismissive nature.

“Are you unwell?” Y/N continues to dismiss him. “Should I fetch someone?”

Benedict shook his head, the smile he bore both warm and soft. “You are beautiful,” he repeats himself, sincerity in his voice, “and do not say you are not, because you are, Y/N. You are my diamond of the season.”

Her head hangs low, eyes flicking between the end of her dress and the ground it rested against. “You shouldn’t say such things,” she whispers.

“And why not?”

“Because I-”

“Benedict?” Colin’s voice startles them, Y/N jumping to her feet as footsteps approached them. She whips around in time to see the younger Bridgerton appear from around the corner. “Ah, Y/N,” Colin produces a friendly smile, “and Benedict. Perfect. I’m about to tell your uncle about this fascinating night had on the Greek Islands.” Benedict groans, not wishing to hear another one of Colin’s stories. “It is one that you both have to hear!”

Benedict was slow to rise, his left hand remaining around the rope as he stands. “I’ll be there in a moment,” he tells Colin, watching as his Helen of Troy disappeared inside with his younger brother.

The next morning, Benedict waited nervously inside the drawing-room of Y/N’s uncle’s London townhouse. He watched Benedict with a cautious eye. Every possible suitor bought bouquets of roses never peonies like the ones Benedict clutched tightly in his large hand. This left her uncle believing that this wasn’t a regular ol’ visit from Vicount’s younger brother.

Benedict looked between Y/N’s uncle and the open door, fearing the bouquet of flowers would slip out of his palm or the little bead of sweat trickling down the right side of his forehead would be noticed by someone. He remembered everything that had been said last night and now he was here, sitting before her uncle and a maid, ready to finally express his true intentions.

“Who am I scaring away today?” The sound of her voice coming down the stairs left his heart skipping a beat. His admission last night had opened his eyes and caused him to realise that he did in fact feel deep affection, possibly even love one day, for the young lady. “Oh,” Y/N stops at the door, her heart beating fast inside her chest. Her eyes glance nervously at her uncle. “I was told there was a possible suitor here to see me.”

“I hope to be,” Benedict clears his throat, his breath hitching in the back as he attempts to speak, “that is if you don’t try to scare me away.” He rises quickly to her feet, showing her the bouquet of peonies. They were a light shade of pink and paired well with the blue dress she wore. “They represent beauty,” he refers to the flowers, “and since you’re the most beautiful lady that I have ever laid my eyes upon, I thought they were fitting.”

“At least they are not roses.” She takes the bouquet from him, taking a second to admire the pretty flowers. It warmed her heart to know he had listened to her, bringing her peonies and not another bouquet of roses. “Well, Benedict,” Y/N lifted her gaze, looking up at him and smiling when she hears him release a giant sigh of relief. She was going to take a chance on him, just like she had been told her mother had taken a chance on her father once upon a time. “How are you going to woo me?”

“Well, I thought we could start with a conversation on Helen of Troy,” Benedict answers, “I hear she’s a favourite of yours.”