aracne

it started after you overslept from staying up too late reading. you were hurrying down the hallway, half awake and clutching your books to your chest, when you ran straight into someone.

strong hands caught your arms before you could hit the floor.

“hey, easy there,” steve said with a small laugh, steadying you.

your face went hot instantly. “sorry,” you mumbled before slipping away as fast as you could.

you figured that would be the end of it.

except after that, steve started noticing you everywhere. he’d stop you in the halls just to talk for a minute. he started sitting beside you at lunch like it was the most natural thing in the world. your friends wouldn’t stop teasing you about it, but you kept insisting it didn’t mean anything.

until he offered you a ride home one afternoon.

until you found a folded note in your locker saying he liked your skirts.

until one night, with an uncharacteristically nervous smile, he asked if he could take you out somewhere real.

and somehow, you said yes.

after that, everything seemed to happen all at once.

first kiss

it happened on your front porch after he walked you home from the movies. the night was warm, crickets humming, and you were rambling about how the ending didn’t make sense when steve stepped closer, one hand gentle on your waist.

“you’re overthinking it,” he murmured, thumb brushing your cheek.

“i overthink everything.”

his smile was slow. “yeah. i know.”

then he kissed you—soft at first, almost careful, like he knew it was your first and didn’t want to scare you. his lips were warm, tasting faintly of popcorn and mint. when he pulled back, eyes dark, you felt dizzy.

“was that… okay?” he asked.

you bit your lips, heart hammering. “do it again and i’ll tell you.”

he laughed softly and did.

first date (that actually felt real)

mini-golf, because steve insisted it was “classic.” you were terrible at it. he was annoyingly good, but he kept “accidentally” bumping your hip, whispering terrible tips just to make you laugh. when you finally sank a hole-in-one on the windmill, he cheered like you’d won the olympics and kissed you right there under the neon lights.

later, in his car, parked at the lookout, he held your hand across the console. his thumb traced circles on your skin.

“i like this,” he said quietly. “taking it slow. with you.”

your cheeks burned. “you don’t have to. i know you’ve—”

“hey.” he turned your face toward him gently. “i want this to be special. we don’t have to rush anything.”

first time he stayed over

your parents were out of town. you’d made cookies (burnt the first batch), and you watched a horror movie even though you hated them. steve pulled you into his lap when you hid your face in his chest during the scary parts, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your back.

when the movie ended, the air felt thicker. you were both on your bed, facing each other.

“you’re nervous,” he observed, brushing hair from your eyes.

“a little.”

“we don’t have to do anything.”

“i want to.” your voice was small but sure. “i really want you.”

he kissed you for a long time—deep, slow kisses that made your toes curl. clothes came off gradually. his hands were gentle, reverent, mapping every new inch of skin like it was sacred. when his mouth moved lower, you gasped his name, fingers threading through his hair.

“steve—”

“relax, baby. i’ve got you.”

he took his time. whispered praises against your thigh, your stomach, your neck. when he finally slid inside you, forehead pressed to yours, eyes locked, it stung for a moment. he stilled, breathing ragged.

“you okay?”

you nodded, pulling him closer. “don’t stop.”

he moved carefully, murmuring how perfect you felt, how beautiful you were, how he’d never wanted anyone like this. the pain faded into warmth, then pleasure that built until you shattered around him, clinging tight. he followed soon after, burying his face in your neck.

afterward, he held you against his chest, stroking your hair.

first time you initiated

weeks later, you pushed him back onto his bed in his empty house, straddling his lap with shaky confidence. he looked up at you, surprised and so turned on his eyes were almost black.

“you sure?”

you nodded, leaning down to kiss him.

you explored him with your hands and mouth, learning what made his breath hitch and his hips jerk. steve guided you gently when you needed it, voice hoarse with praise—“just like that, sweetheart… fuck, you’re so good.”

when you sank down onto him, taking control, his hands gripped your thighs, eyes never leaving your face. you moved together, learning the rhythm that made you both moan. he sat up halfway, wrapping his arms around you, mouths crashing as you came together.

all the firsts after that

there were so many more. first time in his car (rushed and giggling). first time in the shower (soapy hands and laughter turning into gasps). first time you told him you loved him—right after, when you were tangled and sweaty and he kissed your forehead like you were precious.

steve never made you feel behind. he made every new thing feel like an adventure you were sharing.

one night, months later, curled up together, he traced lazy patterns on your bare shoulder.

“all your firsts,” he said quietly. “i want them. but i want all your nexts too. and the ones after that.”

you kissed him, slow and deep. “i love you.”

“and i love you too.”

he grinned against your lips.

-

you lean against the kitchen counter for a second longer than necessary, pretending to focus on the cabinet while your heartbeat slowly settles back into something normal.

behind you, you can still hear steve moving around quietly in the living room. the couch creaks softly.

you grab two mugs mostly just to have something to do with your hands.

when you walk back in, steve looks up immediately.

his eyes flick to the second mug.

“what’s that?”

“tea,” you say. “unless you wanted water.”

“tea’s good.”

you hand it to him carefully before sitting back down beside him, this time leaving slightly more space between you.

not enough to matter, apparently.

his knee still brushes yours when he shifts.

neither of you mentions it.

for a moment, the room settles into something quieter now.

steve blows lightly against the steam rising from the mug before glancing at you again.

“max still thinks i deserved that punch, huh?”

you snort softly.

“max thinks everybody deserves to get punched at least once.”

“honestly?” he shrugs carefully. “fair.”

another smile tugs at your mouth before you can stop it.

steve notices.

you can tell by the way his expression changes slightly, like he’s trying not to look too pleased about it.

“what?” you ask suspiciously.

“nothing.”

he looks down into his mug to hide the grin threatening at the corner of his mouth.

“you laugh at my jokes more now.”

your eyebrows lift immediately.

“i do not.”

“you do.”

“you literally got punched in the face two days ago. your perception is compromised.”

that gets another laugh out of him.

quieter this time.

and for some reason, hearing it makes your chest ache a little.

the realization hits suddenly, horribly.

because you don’t want to get used to this.

you wonder if this, whatever it is between you two, could end at any moment.

not because of one specific thing, just because the people you love always seem temporary.

you stare down into your own mug before the thought can settle too deeply.

steve watches you for a second.

“where’d you go?”

you blink.

“hm?”

“you got that look again.”

“what look?”

“the one where you disappear for a second.”

you hate that he notices things like that.

you try to brush it off with a shrug.

“just tired.”

his eyes stay on you like he knows that’s not true.

but this time he lets it go.

he leans back carefully against the couch instead, then frowns slightly.

you notice immediately.

“does your side hurt too?”

his expression freezes for half a second.

which is answer enough.

you narrow your eyes.

“steve.”

“i’m fine.”

“you say that while looking one hit away from death.”

“dramatic.”

“show me.”

his eyebrows lift.

“excuse me?” he says, grinning.

you roll your eyes. “your ribs,” you say impatiently. “if you’re hurt, i need to see if it’s bruised.”

he stares at you for a second.

“you need to?”

heat creeps instantly into your face.

“oh my god, shut up.”

his grin appears immediately despite the split lip.

“i’m serious.”

“okay, okay.”

still smiling a little, he carefully sets the mug down before lifting the edge of his shirt just enough to expose his side.

your brain stops functioning for a moment.

because objectively, steve harrington was attractive.

everybody knew that.

but somehow that knowledge becomes significantly more dangerous when he’s sitting this close to you, bruised and warm under the dim apartment lighting.

you force yourself to focus.

a dark bruise spreads across the side of his ribs.

you suck in a breath.

“steve.”

“see? not that bad.”

you look at him like he’s insane before your fingers move carefully toward the bruise.

“does this hurt?”

the second you touch him, his breath catches sharply.

your eyes flick up immediately.

his gaze is already on you.

heavy.

you suddenly become very aware of your hand against his skin.

the warmth of him.

the fact that neither of you is moving.

“a little,” he says quietly.

you swallow.

“right.”

but your hand doesn’t move away immediately either.

for one dangerous second, the room feels too small.

too warm.

steve’s eyes flick down briefly, not to your hand, to your mouth.

your stomach tightens instantly.

then, from down the hallway—

“i need your help, i don’t understa—” max says, holding a notebook in her hands.

you both separate quickly, as if you were doing something forbidden.

max’s eyes flick between the two of you.

“what?” she asks slowly when both of you stare at her with startled expressions.

“nothing. what happened?” you say quickly, standing up.

steve grabs his mug again immediately.

—

somehow, the rest of the week passes faster than expected.

by saturday morning, talia is dragging you across nearly half the stores downtown.

“i swear to god,” you complain while following her into another shop, “if i have to look at one more pair of shoes—”

“you’ll survive.”

talia flashes you a grin over her shoulder before immediately digging through a rack of dresses.

she came back to hawkins a few months ago after her family spent almost a year away after everything that happened.

honestly, you didn’t expect to like her at first.

especially after hearing who she used to hang around with.

but then one day at the library, some basketball idiot made a gross joke loud enough for half the room to hear, and when you rolled your eyes in disgust, talia looked up from her book, pointed at you, and said:

“i like you.”

just like that.

and somehow, that had been the beginning of an actual friendship.

she’s loud, dramatic, and slightly terrifying when she’s bored, but she’s also surprisingly loyal, even if some of her opinions make you want to throw things at her.

“i told you jonathan was a dick,” she says now while walking beside you with two shopping bags hanging from her wrist.

you sigh tiredly.

“you say that every single time his name comes up.”

“because i’m right every single time his name comes up.”

“talia.”

“what?” she scoffs. “nancy wheeler got involved and suddenly he forgot how to act.”

you ignore that part like always.

mostly because arguing about it is exhausting.

also because talia somehow manages to turn every conversation back to nancy or steve eventually.

especially steve.

she hooked up with him once before leaving hawkins.

she claims it meant nothing.

but every time his name comes up, her whole expression changes slightly.

and for some reason, that bothers you more now than it used to.

before, the idea of steve hooking up with random girls wouldn’t have surprised you at all. you used to think he was exactly the kind of guy people said he was.

but now—

now you know he remembers how you take your coffee.

now he remembers random little things you say.

you know he listens.

and somehow that makes the thought of him with someone else feel different now.

worse.

you’re still trying not to examine why.

“earth to you,” talia says suddenly.

you blink.

“what?”

“you’ve been dissociating for like ten seconds.”

you frown slightly before looking at the street in front of you.

and then your stomach drops a little.

steve.

he’s standing outside the sporting goods store a few shops down, talking to one of the basketball guys from school.

his bruises from last week have faded into softer shadows now, barely visible unless the light hits them right.

he laughs at something the other guy says.

and before you can stop yourself, you keep staring.

somehow, he manages to be the most magnetic person you’ve ever met.

talia notices instantly.

“hey,” she says slowly, chewing her gum. “what are you looking at?”

“nothing,” you answer too fast.

her eyes narrow slightly before she follows your line of sight.

then she smiles.

small.

“is that harrington?”

your stomach tightens immediately.

“can we go?”

“why?”

“because i said so.”

you start walking toward the opposite direction before this gets weird.

which obviously means talia immediately makes it worse.

“hey, steve!”

you close your eyes briefly.

god.

steve looks up automatically at the sound of his name.

for a second his attention lands on talia.

then it shifts to you.

and stays there.

completely.

the change in his expression is immediate enough to make your chest feel tight.

like he forgot what he was about to say to his friend.

his eyes move over you once, slower this time.

the polka dot dress.

your hair moving slightly in the wind.

your legs bare under the afternoon sun.

something flickers across his face so quickly you almost miss it.

then he smiles.

“hey,” he says.

and somehow it sounds different directed at you.

talia steps closer beside you immediately, gum snapping between her teeth.

“long time no see.”

steve finally drags his attention away from you long enough to acknowledge her properly.

“yeah,” he says politely. “didn’t know you were back.”

“couple months now.” she tilts her head slightly. “surprised you didn’t notice.”

you almost roll your eyes.

it’s like something in her changes the second she sees him. she normally doesn’t act like this.

but then you immediately feel guilty for thinking it.

because maybe the irritated feeling in your chest has less to do with the way she’s chewing her gum too loudly and more to do with something else entirely.

steve, thankfully, doesn’t flirt back.

doesn’t even really try.

he just nods once before his gaze shifts back toward you again automatically, like he can’t help it.

it makes your pulse feel uneven.

“shopping?” he asks.

you glance down at the bags in your hands.

“unfortunately.”

his mouth twitches slightly.

“you hate shopping.”

talia looks between both of you immediately.

“wait.” her eyebrows lift. “you know she hates shopping?”

you look away first.

steve rubs the back of his neck slightly like he just realized what he admitted out loud.

“she complains the whole time,” he says casually.

“because shopping is evil,” you mutter.

that gets a laugh out of him, soft and easy.

and suddenly talia is staring at the two of you with an expression that makes you nervous.

especially when her smile sharpens slightly afterward.

“well,” she says lightly, “maybe you can help us carry some bags then.”

you open your mouth immediately.

“we’re fin—”

“sure,” steve says at the exact same time.

your eyes snap toward him.

and the worst part is the small smile he tries to hide when he notices your annoyed expression.

talia grins immediately like she just won something.

“perfect,” she says. “you can make yourself useful before tomorrow.”

steve adjusts the bags in his hand slightly.

“tomorrow?”

“my welcome home party.” she says it casually, but there’s something intentional in the way she looks at him after.

you already know where this is going.

and apparently so does steve, because he glances at you briefly before looking back at her.

“you should come,” talia says. then she realizes she’s not being nearly as subtle as she wants to be. “and your friends, of course,” she adds quickly, finally acknowledging the guy standing beside him.

she smiles at them slowly.

“talia—” you start.

“you’re coming too,” she cuts in immediately.

you blink.

“what?”

“don’t act surprised. i already told you about it.”

“you mentioned maybe having people over.”

“same thing.”

you narrow your eyes suspiciously.

she ignores you completely before looking back at steve.

“so?” she asks. “you coming, harrington?”

for a second, he doesn’t answer.

his attention shifts toward you again first.

and something about that annoys you even more because why was he looking at you before answering her?

heat creeps into your face, and you don’t even know why.

you cross your arms tighter.

he steps closer, taking the bags from your hands.

“yeah,” he says finally. “i’ll probably stop by.”

then he glances back at talia.

your stomach does something deeply irritating at the words.

especially when talia smiles a little too brightly after hearing them.

tag list:

steve stands there breathing a little too hard, one hand shoved into the pocket of his jacket while the other hangs awkwardly at his side.

his lip is split open.

there’s a bruise forming across his cheekbone.

for a second your brain doesn’t fully process it.

“what the hell happened to you?”

his eyes flick up to yours.

and suddenly he looks less angry than tired.

“hi.”

you stare at him.

“steve.”

“yeah, okay, fair.”

max appears behind you immediately.

“holy shit.”

steve winces slightly.

“did you get jumped?” she asks, completely ignoring him.

“no.”

“did you deserve it?”

“max,” you cut in.

she shrugs.

“statistically, it’s possible.”

you step aside automatically.

“come inside.”

he hesitates for half a second before obeying.

the second the door closes behind him, you turn back toward him fully.

up close it looks worse.

his knuckles are red too. raw.

“you’re bleeding.”

“it’s nothing.”

you narrow your eyes at him.

“sit down.”

he actually does, which surprises you a little.

max stays hovering nearby while you disappear into the bathroom for the first aid kit.

when you come back, steve is leaning forward slightly on the couch, elbows on his knees while max interrogates him like a detective.

“so who did you hit?”

“why are you assuming i hit someone?”

steve immediately curls his hand into a fist, like hiding the bruised knuckles a second too late will somehow help.

max gives him a flat look.

you sit down beside him, setting the kit on the coffee table.

“move your hand.”

he obeys again.

too easily.

that’s what makes you look at him.

steve usually has something sarcastic to say about everything. but now he just looks… off.

there’s something worn-out about him tonight, his gaze slightly distant.

you wet a cloth carefully before touching his lip.

he inhales sharply.

“sorry.”

“s’okay.”

max squints at him harder.

“wait.” her eyes widen suddenly. “was this the fight at school?”

your hand stills.

you look up immediately.

“what fight?”

steve closes his eyes briefly like he already regrets showing up here.

max points at him dramatically.

“he punched tommy h. in the cafeteria.”

“max—”

“what?” she says defensively. “everybody knows already.”

you look back at steve slowly.

“you got into a fight?”

“there is a possibility...”

“steve,” you complain.

he sighs through his nose.

“it wasn’t a big deal.”

“your face says otherwise.”

max climbs over the back of the couch to sit closer immediately, fully invested now.

“i heard tommy was talking shit and then steve lost it.”

“max,” you say immediately when she adds, “apparently tommy looked fucked u—”

“language.”

she groans loudly.

“seriously?”

you point toward the hallway.

“room.”

“damn, okay.”

she slides off the couch dramatically and storms off like she’s throwing a tantrum.

the second her door closes, the room goes quiet again.

too quiet.

you dip the cloth back into the bowl and reach for his face again.

this time he watches you while you clean the blood carefully from the corner of his mouth.

his eyes look heavier up close, unfocused around the edges.

you can feel his breathing every time your hand gets too close to his jaw.

“what happened?”

“nothing.”

you look at him flatly.

with a quiet sigh, you start to pull your hand away, but steve catches your wrist before you can.

the touch makes you tense slightly.

his fingers loosen almost immediately, like he noticed.

quiet settles between you.

“tommy was being annoying,” he says finally, quieter now.

then he lets your wrist go slowly.

“people usually don’t come out of ‘annoying’ looking like this.”

“you’d be surprised.”

you grab his chin lightly before he can turn his head away again.

the movement stills both of you for a second.

his breath catches almost imperceptibly.

so does yours.

you try to ignore it.

“stop moving.”

your thumb brushes accidentally against his jaw as you wipe away another streak of blood.

his eyes stay on your face now.

too intense.

this close, you notice things you never really paid attention to before. the hazel in his eyes looks different up close, darker around the edges, warmer near the center, almost gold where the kitchen light catches them.

it makes your stomach feel tight in a way you don’t want to examine.

“why did you really hit him?”

his jaw flexes under your hand.

“does it matter?”

“yes.”

something in the room shifts.

outside, you can hear the tv faintly through max’s bedroom wall, cars passing somewhere down the street, but in here everything feels strangely still.

“he was talking about you.”

your fingers pause for half a second.

steve notices.

of course he does.

you pull your hand back slowly.

“what about me?”

he rubs a hand over the back of his neck, already looking irritated with himself.

“just stupid stuff.”

“steve.”

he exhales sharply through his nose.

“about you and jonathan.” his gaze lifts to yours again briefly. “about the breakup.”

warmth creeps up the back of your neck.

you look down at the cloth in your hands instead.

“what did he say?”

for a second, you think he’s not gonna answer at all.

his jaw tightens.

“i’m not repeating the rest of it.”

you swallow hard, forcing a shrug that doesn’t feel real.

“steve, i already know the kind of shit people say.” your voice comes out quieter than you expect. “about me and jonathan, about us getting distant… people started making stuff up weeks ago.”

his expression shifts slightly at that.

you look back down at the cloth in your hands.

“it’s not gonna affect me more than it already has.”

the words hang there for a moment before steve finally speaks again.

“he said… jonathan probably got what he wanted and left.”

the words land hard.

humiliating in a way that makes your chest ache instantly.

the pause lingers between you again.

“he kept going,” steve says more quietly now. “i told him to stop. he didn’t.”

you swallow once.

“so you punched him.”

he gives a small shrug, though it pulls slightly at the bruise on his face.

“guess so.”

you look back at him finally.

your eyes drift over the split in his lip, the bruise blooming across his cheek, the raw skin over his knuckles.

all because some idiot decided to talk about you like you were something disposable.

something about that thought twists painfully inside your chest.

steve shifts slightly under your stare.

“it was stupid.”

“yeah,” you say softly.

but there’s no real judgment in it.

his eyes find yours again.

and suddenly you’re too aware of how close you’re sitting.

of your knee brushing his.

of the warmth coming off him.

of the fact that your fingers are still stained faintly pink from his blood.

neither of you moves away.

which somehow feels worse.

steve’s eyes stay on you for a second longer before he looks down again.

his fingers tap once against his knee.

then—

“why’d you lie to me?”

the question catches you off guard even though part of you knew it was coming eventually.

“what?”

he glances back up.

“yesterday.” his voice stays quiet. careful. “when we were talking about jonathan.”

oh.

you lean back slightly against the couch, folding the damp cloth between your fingers just to give your hands something to do.

“i don’t know.”

“that’s not true.”

you let out a small breath through your nose.

he waits.

you stare down at the bowl sitting on the coffee table, watching the water turn faintly pink.

“it’s recent,” you say finally. “i haven’t exactly been going around announcing it.”

he nods once, but you can tell that’s not really the answer he meant.

“and?”

you hate how easily he notices when you’re avoiding something.

you shrug slightly.

“and i didn’t want every conversation we have to become about jonathan.”

the room quiets again after that.

steve looks at you for a long second like he’s trying to figure out what that means.

“that doesn’t mean you had to lie to me.”

his voice comes out softer than before.

you finally look at him properly again.

“steve, every time we talked lately, somehow it ended up coming back to my relationship.”

his expression tightens faintly at that.

“i just got tired of feeling…” you stop, searching for the word. “observed, i guess.”

you exhale slowly.

“it was turning into something really chaotic for me.”

he stays quiet, listening.

“and this is gonna sound stupid, but i was kinda irritated at you for helping start all this questioning.”

“what do you mean?”

“you know what i mean. you literally told me i should do something about it the first time i told you things weren’t going well.”

steve tilts his head slightly, trying to remember exactly what he said.

“and i’m not blaming you for it,” you add quickly. “it was just… weird hearing the thoughts already in my head out loud, i guess.”

he watches you carefully for a second.

“but you didn’t break up. you asked for a break?”

you look at him, confused by how much information he somehow has.

“or that’s what i heard,” he says, clearing his throat.

that pulls a small smile from you despite yourself.

“yeah. because, i mean… he came to apologize like three times after that, and i guess i accepted it, but…” you hesitate. “i don’t know. sometimes it feels like something’s making him feel guilty, and that’s why he suddenly needs to be close to me again.”

you notice steve flexing his fingers slightly, jaw tightening like he hates hearing that.

“sorry,” you say after a second. “am i talking too much? you should probably be resting or something. i can get you ibuprofen.”

“you’re not,” he stops you quickly. “talking too much, i mean.”

you pause slightly.

steve looks down for a second, rubbing absentmindedly at his sore knuckles.

“maybe i was being an asshole about jonathan,” he admits after a moment. “i mean… i probably have some resentment there.”

you blink at him.

he lets out a short breath through his nose, almost awkwardly.

“but i wasn’t lying when i told you that you deserved better.”

the room goes quiet again after that.

too quiet.

your fingers tighten slightly around the cloth in your hands.

steve seems to realize what he just said a second too late because his jaw shifts faintly, eyes dropping away from yours.

“you shouldn’t have done that today,” you say quietly after a moment.

his eyes lift again.

“the fight.” you shrug slightly. “for me.”

steve looks at you for a second like he doesn’t really know what to say to that.

you glance back down at your hands on your lap.

“honestly, i don’t really care what people say about me anymore.” your voice stays calm, softer now. “as long as they stay away from max, it doesn’t matter.”

something in his expression shifts at that.

you exhale quietly before adding, lighter this time,

“but… thank you.”

he frowns faintly. “for getting punched in the face?”

that finally pulls a small laugh out of you.

“for making that thirty-minute walk worth it.”

steve laughs softly under his breath at that, shaking his head once.

then he looks at you again.

his eyes move slowly across your face like he’s noticing things he normally wouldn’t let himself pay attention to, the curve of your mouth when you smile, your lashes catching the light when you look down for a second, the softer expression you only seem to get around people you trust.

the attention makes your stomach tighten unexpectedly.

suddenly you feel too aware of how close he is sitting.

you clear your throat softly.

“does it hurt?”

his gaze lifts to yours again immediately.

“what?” he asks, sounding a little lost.

you nod toward his face.

the bruise.

his mouth softens just slightly.

“not really.”

you give him a look.

“liar.”

a small laugh escapes him before he can stop it, though it pulls at the cut on his lip enough to make him wince right after.

“okay,” he admits. “a little.”

you shake your head under your breath, picking up the things from the table in front of you.

“for the record, i didn’t come here for pity or anything.”

you glance up at him.

“good to know.” you smirk a little, because there it is again — that ridiculous attitude of his that somehow always gets a laugh out of you before you can stop it.

“i just had two options.” he gestures vaguely toward his face. “this, or letting dustin henderson attempt medical care on me.”

“please tell me you’re joking.”

“i wish i was.”

another laugh slips out of you before you can stop it.

“you’re actually lucky to have me then.”

“don’t let it get to your head,” he says, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly.

you narrow your eyes at him immediately before standing up from the couch.

“oh, shut up.”

steve lets out a quiet laugh as you stick your tongue out at him on your way to the kitchen.

and for a second, watching you like this, laughing, teasing him like everything between you is easy, makes something warm settle unexpectedly in his chest.

tag list:

“max, i was literally with steve. and it wasn’t even that long.”

the second the words leave your mouth, her expression hardens even more.

“that doesn’t mean i knew where you were.”

“okay, i’m sorry—”

“it’s not fair i have to tell you where i am every damn second and you can’t even say, ‘hey max, i’m coming home late tonight.’”

she stands abruptly.

the sound of her voice rising surprises you more than the words themselves.

“max, i—”

“what if something happened to you and i…”

her voice cracks suddenly.

your chest tightens.

max looks away fast, like she hates that it’s happening, but her eyes are already watering.

“and i can’t do anything,” she says, quieter now. “it’s not fair.”

tears slip down her face.

you freeze for half a second before crossing the room and pulling her into your arms immediately.

“hey, hey—it’s okay. i’m sorry.”

the second you touch her, she folds into you completely.

you both end up sinking down onto the floor, tangled awkwardly against the couch while you hold her close, your chin resting lightly on top of her head.

“it’s okay,” you whisper again, even though your own throat burns now.

the sound of her crying digs somewhere deep inside your chest because you understand exactly where this is coming from.

you understand the fear underneath it.

the fear of people leaving suddenly.

of coming home to empty rooms.

of waiting for footsteps that never come.

there are parts of your past that neither of you talks about directly anymore, but they still live inside both of you anyway, buried deep under normal days and stupid arguments.

people always say you and max are alike in some ways. what they don’t know is that the two of you learned how to hold onto people too tightly because too many things were taken before you were ready.

eventually her breathing starts to slow.

she wipes at her face roughly with the sleeve of her hoodie, sniffling once.

“sorry for being rude,” she mumbles, still curled against you.

you smile softly despite everything and press a kiss against the top of her head.

“just for this time, i forgive you.”

she lets out a tiny laugh at that.

“i wasn’t planning on staying out late,” you admit quietly. “i just… had to deal with some stuff, and i didn’t realize how late it got.”

“okay,” she says after a second. “but next time at least tell me.”

“i promise.”

you hold out your pinky. she rolls her eyes immediately but hooks hers with yours anyway.

when you both finally stand up, you brush dust off your clothes while max flops dramatically back onto the couch.

then she squints at you.

“so,” she says slowly, a grin starting to appear, “what were you doing with steve?”

you look at her too quickly.

“i was just—”

you stop yourself.

“he asked me to help him with physics.”

the lie comes out fast enough to almost sound believable.

“mhm.”

max narrows her eyes harder.

“and since when are you two that close?”

you grab the blanket from the armrest and throw yourself onto the couch beside her before answering.

“i guess babysitting you and your weird little friends made us realize we have more than a parental relationship in common.”

“if you say so,” she says, unconvinced.

she reaches for the remote and turns the tv on.

a second later you pull the blanket over both of you automatically.

max leans against your shoulder without even thinking about it.

and for the first time all day, the house feels warm again.

⸻

the cafeteria is louder than usual.

trays slam against tables, someone yells across the room, a group near the vending machines bursts into laughter loud enough to make half the room turn.

steve barely notices any of it.

he sits slouched in his chair with a carton of milk in one hand, staring at absolutely nothing while one of his basketball teammates talks beside him about some game strategy he stopped understanding five minutes ago.

his mind keeps drifting back to you.

to seeing you in the hallway yesterday morning beside jonathan.

to the way you looked at him for half a second before looking away again.

to the smile you always give him when you tease him about something stupid. the way your eyes brighten when you laugh. the way you looked at him standing in his kitchen like you were trying to figure him out and failing a little.

he presses the heel of his hand against his eyes briefly.

this is getting ridiculous.

he already told himself to stop. whatever weird thing this is, it’s only gonna get messy.

jonathan already hates him enough without steve making everything worse. and honestly? maybe he deserves it. maybe if he thought about it long enough, he wouldn’t even mind making jonathan hate him more either.

not if it was for you.

“are you even listening?” his teammate asks.

“no.”

“cool.”

the guy keeps eating anyway.

a voice cuts through the noise somewhere behind them.

“mayfield got dumped?”

the name hits steve hard enough to make his shoulders tense before he even turns.

for a second, his stomach drops in that ugly, immediate way it always seems to lately whenever he hears your name unexpectedly.

tommy h.

he’s standing near the drink machines with two other guys, laughing about something.

“knew that wouldn’t last,” one of them says.

“seriously,” tommy snorts. “she looked miserable every time i saw them together.”

steve looks back down at the table.

“maybe wheeler got bored waiting around,” tommy adds carelessly.

one of the guys laughs.

“or maybe byers just wanted to get in her pants first.”

something sharp twists low in steve’s stomach.

his teammate glances over immediately, already sensing the shift beside him.

“steve—”

“she’s probably crying all over the place right now,” tommy continues. “girls like her always act like it’s the end of the world when a guy finally gets tired of them.”

“shut up.”

the words come out flat.

tommy blinks once when he realizes steve is talking to him.

then he laughs.

“relax, man. i’m talking about mayfield.” he grins slightly. “unless you suddenly care now?”

steve says nothing.

his jaw tightens hard enough to ache.

tommy notices.

of course he notices.

“oh my god,” he says, laughing now. “wait, are you into her?”

“shit,” tommy keeps going. “seriously? after wheeler? you really love byers’ leftovers.”

steve stands so fast his chair screeches violently against the cafeteria floor.

the noise around them dips for half a second.

“dude,” his teammate mutters quietly.

tommy’s smile fades just a little.

“what’s your problem?”

but steve barely hears him anymore.

because suddenly all he can think about is you standing in your kitchen pretending you were okay.

and tommy talking about you like you’re some joke people get to pass around during lunch.

“i said shut up.”

“or what?”

it happens before steve even fully decides to do it.

his fist connects hard enough to snap tommy’s head sideways instantly.

chairs scrape loudly against the floor.

tommy stumbles back with a curse before swinging at him immediately, catching steve across the mouth hard enough to split his lip open.

steve barely feels the hit against his cheek before he lunges forward again, grabbing tommy by the collar and slamming him hard into the edge of a table.

“break it up!”

a teacher grabs steve roughly from behind just as tommy lands another punch against his jaw.

pain flashes white across his face.

steve jerks forward anyway, still trying to get at him.

“harrington!”

another teacher pulls tommy back while students crowd around watching like it’s entertainment.

steve’s breathing hard now, chest rising sharply, blood running warm into his mouth.

-

“what the hell happened to you, dude?” dustin almost yells the second he sees him.

steve sighs tiredly, one hand still gripping the steering wheel. “just get in the car.”

he’d promised to drive dustin home every thursday after some stupid bet he barely even remembers anymore.

dustin climbs in, staring at the split lip and the bruise already forming on steve’s cheek like it’s the greatest thing he’s ever seen.

the ride is quiet for about thirty seconds.

then—

“seriously? that guy’s an asshole. you should’ve punched him harder.”

steve lets out a short laugh through his nose.

“pretty sure that’s what i was trying to do,” he says sarcastically.

they pull into dustin’s driveway.

dustin unbuckles his seatbelt but doesn’t move to get out yet. instead, he points at steve’s mouth.

“you need help with that.” he winces. “your lip looks disgusting.”

“thanks.”

“i’m serious.”

steve presses his forehead briefly against the steering wheel, exhausted now that the adrenaline’s wearing off.

“i need to do some stuff first,” he mutters. “don’t have time for that right now.”

dustin narrows his eyes at him for a second.

“are you gonna talk to her?”

steve’s head lifts immediately.

“i don’t know i need to think, ok?”

“you should talk to her,” dustin says anyway. “i mean… maybe she lied to you for a reason.”

steve frowns.

“what are you talking about?”

dustin shrugs.

“well, technically they didn’t even break up. she said they were ‘on a break.’”

steve turns so fast he nearly gives himself whiplash.

“wait. how do you know that?”

“i heard max talking to lucas today.”

“why didn’t you tell me that before?”

dustin looks genuinely confused.

“you didn’t ask.”

steve stares at him for a long second.

then points toward the house.

“get out of the car.”

“okay, man, relax.” dustin snorts, opening the door. “you’re being dramatic.”

“out.”

dustin finally climbs out, shutting the door behind him.

steve watches him jog toward the house before leaning back heavily against the seat with a groan, dragging both hands down his face carefully so he doesn’t touch the bruise.

he hesitates for a second before he starts driving to your house.

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