#eurydice!reader

 — — — 

When the earthquake shattered Hawkins, the rift tore through your house, splitting your childhood home in two. Your parents had been out, meeting with other concerned parents, while you remained home. The start of your spring break had been exceptionally boring since you were practically on house arrest with the murders that were happening, and you hadn’t heard from your friend Robin in days. 

You were watching The Princess Bride in your bedroom when the sirens started. Outside, you saw lightning flash across the night sky, and a red glow illuminated the forest from a distance. The house shook, and in the hall, family portraits and paintings clattered to the floor, leaving shards of glass in their wake. You’d lived through tornado season before, and this was nothing like you had ever been prepared for. Earthquakes seldom struck Indiana, and you felt the tremors grow beneath your feet. 

As the red glow became brighter, the rift crawled closer to your home. Time was limited; you snagged your emergency bag and dashed towards the stairs. But you weren’t fast enough because as soon as your foot hit the first step, the entire staircase crumbled down into the searing red rift. You stumbled back down the hall, slicing your palms against the shards of glass as the house continued to shake and cave in on itself. 

The flooring split down the hall, allowing the furniture to start sliding down and falling into the gaping earth. You crawled backward, fighting for your life as you used all your strength to pull yourself into the furthest bedroom. As the second floor continued to collapse in on itself, you threw open the window, tossing your backpack down into the hedges before crawling out on the roof. You climbed down the siding of the house in just enough time before the second floor fully collapsed down. 

Everything your family had was gone, your home destroyed. Every birthday, every holiday, every memory — gone. The only evidence that your childhood had ever existed now remained in your memories. 

A cough racked your body, as you covered your mouth with your elbow to shield yourself from all the dust and ash from the fire. Your eyes followed west to where the rift continued to crawl towards downtown. The adrenaline died as fear clawed itself up out of your throat when you heard an eruption in the distance. 

As you stumbled out of your yard and onto the street, you looked around at your neighbor, all just as frightened and confused as you were. The once quiet neighborhood had been replaced by screaming sirens from all directions. 

Parents immediately sprang into action, forcefully telling their children to pack a bag. That they needed to leave Hawkins. But you were alone, your parents were downtown, and you didn’t know if they were safe or even alive. There was no home left for you to find shelter in, and your neighbors were too focused on the safety of their family to notice the lonely girl walking down the street. 

All you had left was a bookbag with items that hardly provided you any comfort or semblance of a plan. You didn’t know exactly what to do, but you knew that you needed to find a place to seek shelter and find help. Right now, you had to survive the night before you could worry about what came tomorrow. 

None of your neighbors or the cars that passed you on the roads offered you assistance or even a curious glance. They were escaping with their loved ones while they could. Why stop for some poor fool wandering the streets?

The wind was cruel and cold, a sharp contrast to the previous sunny day. It whipped through the trees and bit at any exposed skin until it was red and raw. You gripped the straps of your bookbag tighter as you continued to trudge along the treeline, dipping into the woods every time an unfamiliar car passed. 

Eventually, the cars became more frequent, and you decided it would be safer to remain hidden in the woods. You could still make out the yellow-and-white-lined road that would lead to your destination. In the small moments of stillness between cars passing, you allowed yourself to find some comfort in the silence. 

But the silence made each sound more prevalent. If someone else were in the woods, they would easily identify the rustling of leaves with each of your steps. Maybe that’s why your breath hitched when you heard it. 

For the past mile, you had been more heavy-footed, exhaustion settling into your bones. Or at least, you thought that was the case. Until a twig snapped somewhere deeper amongst the trees, and you realized that something had been precisely matching the fall of your feet — a perfect stalker. 

You squinted as you looked out to spot what or who was following you. When a chittering growl sounded behind a large maple tree, you reached back into your bag to pull out the emergency flashlight, only to discover it was already on. 

There was no time to question why it was on as you directed the light towards the source of the sound. Maybe it was a coyote? But you had never heard such a sound from an animal before. 

Your flashlight began to flicker when the low chittering began again. You smacked at the handle, praying that the batteries hadn’t died on you, but the switch was still flipped in the off position. The light went out, and a tall figure emerged from behind the trees. 

Everything in your body went still. The creature was too skinny to be a bear and too tall to be human. In the darkness, it looked faceless, and from its stance, it looked ready to strike its prey. You parted your mouth to scream and raised the flashlight, finally flicking the switch into the on position. 

The flashlight glowed bright, sending a strong beam of light through the woods that you knew shouldn’t have been possible with such a small bulb. It was blinding, disorienting in the face of danger. You quickly flipped it back off, but the creature was gone, along with any sign that it was ever there. 

It took until dawn to reach the high school, where an emergency medical center was already being set up. A volunteer nurse quickly noticed your approach, her sympathetic gaze seeking to comfort you as she asked for your name and age. She asked about your family and where they last were as she guided you over to a cot. The nice older woman, who you soon learned was Mrs. Dunne, cleaned the cuts on your hands. 

You remained on that cot for another forty-eight hours, hoping your parents would come find you here. More and more people piled into the high school gymnasium, where you had seen the basketball team win a conference the week prior. As your eyes scanned the missing posters that adorned bulletin boards and saw families reconnect, your hope slowly began to die. 

That was until some stopped in front of your cot, calling out your name with shock. 

You lifted your head to discover one of your dearest friends, whom you hadn’t heard from in days, “Oh my god, Robin!”

You practically leaped into her arms, hugging your friend tightly. It was good to finally have someone you knew again. 

“Holy shit, Robs,” You pulled back, wiping your eyes, “Where the hell have you been?”

“No, where the hell have you been?” Robin looked at you as if she had seen a ghost. 

Your brows knit together at her expression, “Um… my house collapsed in the rift, but I was able to escape? I found my way here to seek help.”

Robin’s face softened into something apologetic, “I— wow. I’m really glad that you’re here and that you’re okay, but… what the hell?”

“What the hell is right?” You chuckled, enjoying the small moment of normalcy, “My parents were across town for another Hellfire meeting, and I haven’t seen them since.”

“Oh God, I’m so sorry,” Robin squeezed your hands a little tighter, “Your parents called my house yesterday to tell me that the police announced that you were dead after presuming you had fallen into the rift. They said that the house had burned down in the destruction, and that all the locks were fastened. They… they left town this morning because they thought you were dead.”

You tried to make sense of her story and piece it together. Your parents assumed you were dead? Did they not bother to actually look for you? To just believe the assumed story from the police? You were alone, and you didn’t know the first step to finding them again. 

You opened your mouth to speak when the sky outside began to gray, making the gym darken. People slowly began pointing at the windows; a few even dared to go outside to see if another tragedy was about to befall the town. One grandmother clutched her grandson, a soft prayer spewing from her lips. 

Your eyes fixated on the flecks that fell from the sky. It wasn’t snow — it was ash. 

A voice called out to your friend.

“Robin,” Steve Harrington, former asshole and now a friend by proxy, quickly made his presence known. His brown eyes flicked over your frame, offering you a kind smile, “Oh, hey, you’re alive. That’s awesome.”

His words caught you off guard. And by his expression, he seemed amused by his ability to draw a giggle from you, “That’s awesome?”

A lopsided grin painted Steve’s lips at the sound of your laugh. He went to respond, but the growing sound of helicopters swarming into the town drowned him out. Steve immediately refocused on Robin, “We should probably leave and regroup with the others, just in case this is something more. We gotta get Dustin and then swing by the hospital to grab Lucas and Erica.”

Robin nodded but then looked at you. Realization suddenly dawned on the girl that you would be alone again to deal with whatever new storm brewed outside. 

The words left her mouth before she could think twice, “We have to bring (Y/N) with us.”

Your head snapped over in surprise at not only her statement, but the firmness of her tone. This wasn’t what you had expected. 

Steve gave you an apologetic glance before looking back to his friend, “Robin, we’ll come back,  please—”

“Her family skipped town, Steve. No one knows what’s going on, and I refuse to abandon her after all the shit we’ve seen in the past four days.” Robin grabbed your hand, intertwining your fingers in solidarity. 

You glanced between them in confusion, not quite understanding their words. There wasn’t time for them to explain either at that moment. Robin simply gave Steve a look that conveyed more than you would ever know. 

Steve sighed and simply nodded, “Okay, fine, fine. We’ll drop her off at your place—”

“We can’t take her to my place,” Robin quickly cut him off with an apologetic wince. 

His brow furrowed, “Why’s that?”

“Because that would involve me seeing my parents, who will likely be determined to keep me at home, and our ragtag team can’t exactly spare a party member right now, so,” Robin shrugged at her languid explanation, “Plus there’s hardly enough room at my house for just my family.”

Steve pursed his lips together as he mulled over her words. Robin was right about her house. The Wheelers had their hands tied with the Byers, and it wouldn’t make sense for you to stay with the Sinclairs or at the Henderson House. So Steve made an executive decision and tried not to think about the consequences that would follow. 

He nodded with a sense of finality, “Okay, we drop her off at my house, and then we grab the Sinclairs—”

“Your house?” You finally spoke up, trying to sound appreciative but also wrap your head around everything that was happening. 

“Oh, wait, yes! That’s a great idea!” Robin nodded, her head whipping between the two of you. Her attention returned to you as she noticed your nervous fidget, “It’s okay. Steve’s parents also bailed town because they thought he was dead, and his house is huge. Like, you’ll seriously have your selection of rooms, and he has a pool!”

“Robin, let her breathe.” Steve rested a hand on her shoulder, chuckling even though this heaviness weighed over your town. His eyes met yours again, and in the brown iris highlighted with flecks of hazel and gold, you found a sense of security that you needed right now. The corner of his lip tugged into a polite smile as his tone became gentler, “You’re welcome to stay with me. It’s better to be amongst friends than be alone in times like these.”

“Are you sure? I don’t mind—”

Robin interrupted, “This isn’t a negotiation. You won’t be a burden. And Steve’s right about sticking together.”

There wasn’t a lot of time to exactly think about the offer, not with the commotion that started to brew again. You didn’t know Steve or the other people Robin had mentioned that well. There were three clear options: stay at the gym, flee Hawkins to find your parents, or go with Robin and Steve. In that short moment, you didn’t think about where your parents were or how long you would be permitted to stay at the school or the Harrington home. You simply thought about how a real bed and shower would feel after being covered in grime and sleeping on a medical cot for two nights. 

“I— that would be great,” You finally agreed as you snagged your bookbag off the floor. You pointed towards one of the donation stations, “I just need to grab some clothes, I’ll only be a minute.”

Steve was the first to move, looking to Robin with a nod, “I’ll go find Dustin and start the car. You two grab what we need.”

Before you could even reconsider, Robin held your wrist, tugging you towards the stacks of clothing a volunteer was organizing.

— — — 

When Steve pulled into the driveway, he moved swiftly to unlock the front door for you. According to Dustin, they still had to make a pitstop before going to some cabin? And meeting with the others? You were already going to be staying somewhere new, and you were grateful to have it, not wanting to press your luck. So you didn’t ask about who exactly these other people were or why they were in such a rush to leave. 

“You can have any bedroom, except the one with the plaid wallpaper,” Steve quickly explained as he escorted you into the Harrington home, “That one’s mine. But seriously, take whatever and just make yourself comfortable. The kitchen has stuff to make peanut butter and jelly, or spaghetti, or whatever you can find. Just… don’t answer the front door until I get home? Not that anything crazy should happen while I’m gone.”

It was a lot of information to absorb at once. But you simply smiled and nodded, entering the house. 

He blinked twice, the usual stoic front he showed the world suddenly falling away. Steve’s eyes met yours, warmth filling the dead air. His care and concern were genuine, which both endeared you but made you all the more weary. After all, the entire situation was completely unfathomable, much less seeking shelter with Steve of all people. 

“You gonna be okay alone?” He gently asked, his voice a comforting murmur. 

“Yeah, yeah,” You shook your head dismissively. 

Steve held his focus, searching your face for any sign of worry. He realized that he had really never gotten to know you beyond the pleasantries of sharing a mutual friend. And though you were both alone in this storm, neither of you had to be stranded.

With a heavy breath, Steve released a deep sigh, returning to the front door. Peaking around the foyer, you glanced back at him before he closed the door, “Thank you.”

Steve paused, eyes cutting back to meet yours. He nodded, “Don’t mention it.”

— — —

Hours had passed without a word from Steve or Roor from, nor any of the chilthat the older teens seemed to be friends with. Freshly showered and dressed in some of the donated clothes you picked up earlier, you were just grateful for the small things right now. The house was silent, and you were even afraid to turn on the TV, much less the record player in the living room corner. 

Prodding over to the kitchen, you managed to pull together enough ingredients for dinner, making a few extra portions for when the others returned. Once the kitchen was clean again, you settled yourself back in the living room. There was a discarded copy of The Never Ending Story on the coffee table. You remembered seeing that movie with the kids you babysat at the time. Maybe the familiar story would provide you with some temporary comfort.

You managed to make it through the first few chapters before you heard the lock click at the front door. The digital clock on the VCR read 11:03 PM in bright red. You stood as you set the book back onto the coffee table, peaking your head into the foyer. 

Steve stood there in silence for a moment, just glancing at his reflection in the entryway mirror. If he knew you were watching, he made no sign of it. You could tell by the way his shoulders sagged that this wasn’t the first time he’d felt so defeated. He ran a hand over his face, trying to wipe off the exhaustion of the previous week. Deep in his chest, Steve knew that things would get worse before they got better, but he didn’t want the weight of the world to show on his face. 

You stepped farther into the moonlit hallway in an attempt to make yourself known, only for Robin to stumble through the front door. She gave Steve a reassuring pat on the back before her eyes drifted to where you stood.

“Oh my gosh, did we wake you?” Robin was quick to apologize, “I’m so sorry that we’re back so late and left you alone for hours. But we’re back now!”

Despite her awkward explanation and guilty tone, you simply chuckled in reply, shrugging the concern away, “I’m just… glad to see you made it back in one piece. Both of you…”

Finally, Steve’s eyes find yours from across the room once he realizes that you are talking to both of them. He tosses you a small smile, something soft and grateful. 

“I made dinner,” You thumbed back in the direction of the kitchen, averting your attention from Steve, “Just spaghetti, but there’s still plenty left.”

“Hell yes,” Robin applauded and immediately made her way to the kitchen to serve herself. 

Steve lingered behind, toeing off his sneakers and locking up the front door for the night. You stayed in the hallway, watching him place his car keys on the hook. He took one final breath, shaking off what remained of the heaviness from the day. 

“Shall we?” He nodded towards where he could hear Robin fishing for a serving utensil, an easy smile on his lips. 

“Right,” You exhaled, your feet gently padding across the hardwood floors of the home. You could hear Steve following behind. 

Robin had perched herself atop one of the marbled countertops with more Parmesan than sauce in her bowl of spaghetti. A smear of sauce already painted the corner of her lips. The scene made you chuckle while Steve simply rolled his eyes, reaching for a bowl of his own. 

“So what room did ya end up picking?” Robin casually asked, obviously familiar enough with the layout of the Harrington home. 

You perked up at the question, clearing your throat, “Oh, um, the second door on the left. Looked like a guest room anyway.”

“Oh, yeah,” Robin continued to babble. Steve had his back turned to you, but the tension in his shoulders made you aware that he was alert and listening — a practiced trait. Once he portioned his serving, he moved to stand next to Robin, easily inserting himself, “That’s where I usually stay during the few times I’ve stayed the night.” 

Robin’s hand rustled the top of Steve’s hair; he responded by elbowing her side. She groaned, “Plus, you’re right across the hall from Stevie.”

“I’m a light sleeper,” Steve easily added as if it were a beneficial fact. You didn’t want to think about the layered meaning of his statement. 

In fact, you were ready to turn to lighter conversations when Robin snidely added, “Yeah, Steve will protect you from all the monsters—”

Steve scoffed, “Robin—!”

“Monsters?” You asked, glancing between them. 

Robin noted the intrigue and suspicion in her gaze, “Yeah… have you seen any monsters?”

Steve gave the freckled-faced girl a pointed look, “Robin.”

You could so easily say yes. Tell your new confidants about your encounter in the woods after the rift opened. After you saw that faceless creature, and the dread of knowing it had been stalking you for an unknown amount of time. But the way Steve looked at Robin… You had a roof over your head and friends at your side, but that didn’t mean they would believe you. The anxiety of their distrust kept you silent. 

Clearing your throat, your eyes refocused on Robin, “Of course not. The world already feels like it's ending — why add in monsters?”

The three of you laughed at the silliness of the conversation. It warmed something in your chest to know that even here at the edge of chaos, you could still come across light in the darkest of times. In the comfort of the kitchen, Robin exchanged stories of how she befriended Steve and explained to Steve about your time together in drama club.

“Can you believe Tammy Thompson actually moved to Nashville?” You chuckled as you leaned into Robin’s side, “She sounds like a muppet!”

“Thank you, thank you!” Steve clapped once in agreement, excitement lighting his cheeks. He nodded at Robin with a smugness that showed that this was a topic of constant discussion between them. 

“Oh my god,” the girl released an exaggerated yawn while placing her empty bowl in the sink, “Steve literally reminds me about that all of the time.”

You smiled in Steve’s direction, finding that he was already looking at you with a soft grin of his own. Suddenly, there was a sense of camaraderie between the two of you, and a small realization for yourself. For the past year, the only commonality between you and Steve Harrington had been Robin Buckley. You hadn’t gotten to know him, but just accepted that somehow, someway, Robin had befriended the town’s heartbreaker while scooping ice cream at Starcourt. 

From the entryway to the kitchen, Robin bowed, “And since it is your first night at Casa de Harrington, I will relinquish the guest room to you and find respite in the master suite!”

“Why the hell do you have to say it like that?” Steve rolled his eyes at Robin’s antics, though his amusement simmered beneath his stern gaze. 

“To annoy you, dingus,” Robin stuck out her tongue as she stomped up the stairs, “G’night!”

A moment of stillness passed where you both silently noted the absence of your common denominator. Robin was no longer a buffer between you both, and maybe you both realized that this arrangement of staying at the Harrington House meant that neither of you could truly live on the edges of each other’s lives anymore. You were the first one to extend the olive branch.

“I’ve never seen her light up so much around anyone else before you,” You softly commented from across the kitchen. 

Steve lifted his head, hazel eyes meeting yours. A soft smile twitched at the corner of his lips, “Yeah, I guess she’s alright.”

You giggled at his feigned nonchalance, “It is still strange, I admit. I remember when all the drama girls tried to hatch a plan to convince Steve the Hair Harrington to come see the spring musical of Little Shop of Horrors. Tammy was fully convinced that you’d fall in love with her after watching her performance as Audrey.”

“Oh god,” Steve rolled his eyes, “Yeah, I wouldn’t have been caught dead at a play back then. But now? Hm… Well, I’d like to think that I’ve changed.”

Your fingers drum against the kitchen counter tops, eyes looking anywhere but Steve as you allowed yourself to speak freely, “I didn’t really know you before all of this, but as an outsider to your life, I can tell that you’ve grown into your own person. Maybe you’ve struggled in finding your way, but you show up for your friends, and you show up for yourself, and that’s really all that matters in times like these.”

Steve smiled, and a golden aura surrounded him from the warm kitchen light. But there still remained the unknown and whatever secrets Steve did have. There was an edge to him, something that screamed of danger he had seen, yet survived. And if you couldn’t read it in his face, then it was glaringly obvious from the faint scar around his neck. 

But this was not the night for questions. Tonight, you just needed to be grateful for a warm bed and for what friends you had. 

Before Steve could speak up again, you shifted to take care of Robin’s dishes in the sink.

“No, no, no,” Steve chuckled as he approached from behind, “I’ll take care of this. You head to bed. Sounds like you’ve had enough excitement.”

“I could say the same for you.” You matched his easy smile. “Besides, the dishes are the least I can do.”

Steve shook his head, smoothly slotting himself to your right side. His larger hand snagged the sponge from your grip, “But you’re my guest…”

You paused, considering the words. But when you met his caring gaze, you realized that Steve would pester you until you agreed to leave the dishes and go to bed. 

“Okay,” you nodded, taking a half step back. Your eyes drifted over his frame once more as you moved towards the stairway, “Goodnight, Harrington.”

“Goodnight,” He hummed back, already getting to work as you made your way upstairs. 

You thanked the woman and returned the phone to the receiver. As you scribbled down the last few details, the ink from your pen ran dry. With a sigh, you tossed it in the trash, praying the last few words were legible enough for Robin. One final glance around the office, you flicked the lights off and exited into the studio area. 

Dustin stood near the equipment rack, checking one of the meters that Steve reported as ‘wonky’. The boy had given you both an earful about technical terms and what you actually needed to radio him for versus what could wait. Steve ended up apologizing to you for Dustin’s tone, but you brushed it off, claiming that he was a kid clearly going through something. 

“Hey, Dusty?” You called out to the boy as you sat up properly on the couch. 

He didn’t bother to glance back at you when he replied, “Only my mom calls me Dusty.”

“Oh… sorry,” You were quick to apologize. Something that Steve, Robin, and really everyone else had noticed, only to tell you not to apologize for existing. But sometimes existing among Steve and his friends felt like walking into a party you hadn’t been invited to. It was hard to tell whether Dustin disliked you or had anything favorable to say about you. Steve had shared that Dustin had lost a close friend when the rift struck Hawkins, but didn’t elaborate further. You didn’t feel comfortable pressing anyone for the details either.

The boy sighed and got back up to his feet. He crossed over to begin packing away his tools in the bookbag sitting on the coffee table. Then Dustin offered you a quick glance and sighed, “What’s up?”

You leaned forward, placing your notepad on the table for him to see, “The town’s still hosting the Fourth of July fair this year. I think it’d be a great night for the whole gang!”

Dustin immediately cringed at the idea and watched your shoulders deflate at his reaction. He pressed his lips together before shaking his head, “I… appreciate the suggestion, but Steve and some of the others just… well, they don’t do well with fireworks.”

Confusion crossed your face. Neither Steve nor Robin had ever mentioned this to you, though they didn't necessarily have to. You were three months into living together, and presumed something like this would’ve been mentioned at least in passing. 

“So he’s scared of fireworks?” You asked. 

Your question lacked judgment, something that Dustin was slightly surprised by: “I don’t know if scared is the right word, but… last Fourth of July was a little… crazy, as you might know.”

“Because of the mall fire?” You pressed further. You didn’t mean to, but there was always the pile of unanswered questions that sat in the back of your mind, worrying you. It was silly to be so anxious, because of course the party would have stories they’d rather not share, but that knowledge didn’t help. The insecurity had already planted itself. 

Dustin just nodded, exhaustion settling under his eyes, “Yeah, the mall fire. It just… It changed something in Steve, but don’t ask him about it, and please don’t tell him I said anything. I don’t need him on my ass more than he already is.”

You took the underlying hint in his phrase. With a smile and easy nod, you thanked him, “Of course, of course. We can always just hang out at Harrington’s pool, too. Nix the fireworks and load up on soda.”

That made Dustin crack a hint of a smile, and you’d accept the small victory. 

The ‘ON AIR’ sign flashed once, then turned off completely, signaling that Robin and Steve were at a break in the broadcast. With a wave to Dustin, you made your way into the booth, your hip nudging the door open. 

Steve was slipping off his headphones, and a wide grin stretched across his lips. That was something small you had grown to appreciate: the way Steve always smiled when you entered the room. Robin, on the other hand, looked practically miserable. 

“Whoa! Rough night?” You asked as the door closed behind you. 

Robin sighed and flung herself back against her designated rolling chair. The heels of her palms rubbed against her eyes, “Yeah, you could say that. My mom is a menace.”

You gave her a sympathetic look, knowing that the mother-daughter duo never truly had the best relationship. “I’m sorry ‘bout that. We can chat after the afternoon broadcast if you’d like? What about a movie night? We can kick Stevie out and watch Sixteen Candles, again.”

“Hey, it’s my house,” Steve interjected with a playful scoff.

“And?” You teased in retaliation, lightly slapping his bicep with the back of your hand. 

Where you might have felt on the outskirts of the full party, it felt like home to be with Steve and Robin. Nancy and Jonathan were slowly warming up to you, but Robin had explained that they were amidst a ‘lover’s quarrel’. Despite the chaos that surrounded you, life was slowly morphing into a new normal. 

“And you’re both a pain in my ass,” Steve huffed as he took a half step closer to you, your hips bumping as he snatched the note from your hands, “Whatcha got here?”

Steve’s other hand settled at your lower back, lingering there like it was the most natural thing in the world. You felt yourself freeze for a moment, the small action catching you off guard. Yet when his brown eyes trailed from your writing to find your gaze, the breath escaped your chest. A sense of comfort washed over you. These small, casual touches had slowly become part of your routine because Steve loved and cared for people. For him, being attentive to his friends was as natural as breathing. 

“Oh, um, it’s from town hall,” Your fingers fidgeted with the rings that adorned them, “I asked about any further stranger sightings or reports to animal control.”

“And?” Robin perked up, as if your answer would make or break her day. 

“And… nothing?” You answered, feeling your own excitement drain as Robin slumped once more, “Two weeks and no reports.”

“Well, no news is good news,” Steve shrugged, seemingly satisfied by your update. His soft gaze lingered on your face, “Anything else?”

“Oh, um, the actual reason they called was to say that the annual Independence Day fair is still happening, or Fourth of July carnival, whatever you call it…” You cleared your throat, feeling more flustered as you gestured to Robin, “Um, it’s all on the note. But they’d like you to announce it.”

“But we aren’t, like, required to attend, right?” She followed up, reaching for the paper. Steve’s hand rubbed a small circle against your back before he pulled away, arms crossing over his chest. Concern etched itself into his brow, and his eyes continued to shift between the two of you. 

The tone in the booth shifted from playful to something you couldn’t quite identify. Your fingers fiddled with the cuff of your sleeve. You didn’t look either of them in the eye as you spoke, “Um, no, the station isn’t expected to bring the van or anything. Just to make the announcement.”

Robin simply nodded, checking her watch, “Good, cause we have plans.”

Your ears perked up, glancing between Steve and Robin. You nodded, not questioning the statement. Despite befriending them and living with Steve, you tried to respect their boundaries. It was a problem rooted in insecurity, though you often brushed it off as being considerate of their space. Usually, their plans also included the party, so you were slightly surprised that Dustin hadn’t mentioned it either. Your voice was clipped, “Cool.”

Silence filled the booth. Unspoken words hung in the air, but you couldn’t identify how to ask the underlying question. Instead, you’d just make yourself scarce; your shift would be over soon anyway. Your thumb gestured to the booth door, “I’ll leave you with that. See ya…”

Your quick goodbye caught Steve by surprise, yet he could do nothing to stop it, really. They were supposed to be back on air in two minutes. His eyes darted over to his co-host, his jaw tight, “You didn’t have to phrase it like that, Robin.”

The blonde-haired girl shook her head and settled into the rolling chair once more. Her tone was short, her irritation now directed at Steve, “Like what? You’re the one who said that everything has to stay under wraps.”

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean you just cut her off. She’s still our friend, remember?” Steve huffed, moving between the soundboard and the stacked cassettes. 

“Our friend, huh? And what else was I supposed to say?” Robin tried to school her expression so that you wouldn’t pick up on their quarrel from the opposite side of the glass, “Sorry, babes, no can do for the Fourth of July Fair! Besides the fact that our entire friend group has a lot of trauma and hates loud noise and crowds, we are actually planning to do an illegal covert operation to spy on the military because we are also fully aware of what is happening in Hawkins, and we actually faced the super scary bad guy who is the reason that your house fell into the Earth and your family abandoned you.”

Steve's jaw dropped, “Jesus, Robin. You have to get over this eventually. Everyone agreed. It’s safer—”

“Safer for who?” Robin cut him off, “Safer for Eleven? Safer for you?”

His finger dug into the wooden countertop that the cassettes sat on as he attempted to conceal his frustration, “It’s safer for her. We might’ve won a battle, but we lost a damn lot. Now we're heading straight into a damn war, and I’m not making her a target. Not for the military, not for the demogorgans, and certainly not for Vecna. Max—”

Steve’s voice cracked. Not talking about Max in front of you had been the hardest part, not just for him, but for the boys, too. Keeping Eleven a secret was natural; they’d all been doing it for years. It was different with Max. Because she wasn’t dead, thank god, but you couldn’t really say that she was living while stuck in a coma. 

“Steve,” Robin was instantly back on her feet after queuing an additional song to extend their break. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders, pulling him in for a tight hug, “What happened to Max wasn’t your fault. We all knew the risks.”

Steve couldn’t bring himself to agree or deny the statement. He had too much guilt in his heart, and only Robin had really seen the extent of it. But then you walked in and read him like a book. Despite not understanding his world, you understood him, and Steve needed that now more than anything. 

“Exactly,” he cleared his throat, thanking Robin with a nod of his head, “I know the risks. And I’m not taking them with her.”

— — —

A week later, you’ve got the Harrington House to yourself. 

It’s the Fourth of July, and while last year you were smushed into the ferriswheel with your drunk friends, this year is silent. The sun had finally begun its descent into the horizon. While the military ordinance had ordered only Hawkins’ City Officials to set off fireworks, plenty of folks had made their own makeshift firecrackers and sparklers. Hawkins FD would certainly have its hands full this year. 

As it turned out, the “plans” Robin and Steve had been for a night shift at the WSQK. Nancy had explained to you that the Mayor’s office called and asked that the evening broadcast be extended to include announcements and music from the fireworks show. You’d offered to assist anyway that they needed, but it was Steve who finally told you to take a night for yourself. 

“You always work so hard. You deserve to relax,” Steve had consoled you in the entryway earlier, “I left twenty bucks on the counter for pizza. Robin and I will be home by the time you wake up.”

“I just… I can come with and just be at the station? I’ll stay out of the way,” You looked at Steve earnestly, hoping he would understand why you didn’t want to be left alone. It was a topic that you usually steered him and the others away from. Talking about the rift and the days that followed was understandably a sore subject for all parties. 

He chuckled, brushing a hand over your bicep in soothing circles, “It’s sweet of you to offer, but everything will be fine. Besides, you’d be far more comfortable in your bed than on one of the station couches.”

Your eyes fell away from his face, flickering over towards the stairs. Your room, our house, home… These were all new additions to Steve’s vocabulary, like the idea that you living together was a natural thing that had happened. And though the small domestic expression made butterflies bloom in your stomach, there was the constant underlying anxiety that it could all be ripped away. 

“Steve—” You made one last plea. 

From outside, you both heard Robin laying on the horn of his Beamer, cutting off all conversation. Steve’s brow furrowed, a rough exhale escaping his nostrils. His eyes cut to the front door and back to you. With a final squeeze to your arm, he said his goodbyes, “I’ll see you in the morning.”

It took everything in him not to cave. To explain that it was safer for you just to be home by yourself tonight. That he was going fucking monster hunting while the party began their own campaign, they aptly named crawls. So Steve bit the inside of his cheek and kept walking, out the front door and to the Beamer, where Robin awaited in the passenger seat. 

“Took you long enough,” She huffed, arms crossed over her chest, “I was worried I’d have to drag you out of the house, but I didn’t need to see you two just keep making the same googly eyes at each other.”

“What are you – five?” Steve rolled his eyes, putting the gear shift in reverse, “And I don’t— she doesn’t—”

Robin clutched the door handle, mocking your goodbyes to each other, “Oh, Steve, please don’t leave me! I’m sorry, but I must! But why? Why go when you could be here in my arms?” “Shut up, we don’t talk like that. No one does,” He shook his head as he turned out of the neighborhood. His elbow rested against the windowsill as they continued towards the station. Steve was quiet for a moment before giving Robin a double take, “Am I really that obvious?”

You lingered on the front porch, watching as the maroon car drove out of your field of vision. The sun would be down within the hour, and you would be alone inside with a bottle of wine and a copy of Fast Times at Ridgemont High to keep you company. Honestly, you still weren’t sure why it was a top 5 movie for Robin when you considered The Breakfast Club to be far superior. 

But with your friends gone, the house was silent, like the very first night you stayed at the Harrington home. That was three months ago, and you hadn’t known your way around. Now, this was your home. Steve made it your home. But without him here, it was just another shelter from the gathering storm.

Two hours later, you were left with half a cheese pizza, an empty glass of wine, and the credits rolling. Outside, there was the occasional burst of fireworks or the screech from a roman candle. About fifteen minutes ago, a truck filled with teenagers loaded into the bed of it passed by, blasting Born in the U.S.A. You laughed, knowing the song's meaning definitely went over their heads. In some ways, life felt normal again, even if it looked a little different. 

The VHS tape had begun to rewind itself, plunging the house back into silence between each distant thunder of the fireworks. The house was dimly lit, and the darkness outside did little to satiate your anxiety as your eyes flicked around to each corner. It had always seemed like something watched in the shadows, waiting for the next opportunity to strike. But you had to remind yourself that your mind was just tricking you; that it was all in your head. 

At the next crack in the sky, you were on your feet, prodding towards the boombox sitting on the end table near the television. Even if you weren’t with your friend, you could at least listen to them. You turned the dial, yet when the index reached 94.5 FM, static hummed through the speakers. 

An exhausted huff escaped through your nose as you adjusted the antennas, blaming the interference on the small dent in the metal. When the signal still didn’t catch, you picked it up and moved towards the breakfast nook near the sliding glass doors that led to the backyard—still nothing. 

You switched it off and ran to the utility closet to find new batteries. When you returned with four fresh Type D batteries, you tested a couple of other stations in the surrounding towns. 88.9 FM. 101.5 FM. 97.3 FM. Hell, you even switched it over to 1450 AM for the military broadcast. 

Each frequency was clear. You could even hear the murmur of the fairground crowd while they played America the Brave before announcing ‘One Hour To Curfew’.

Finally, you dialed it back to 94.5 FM, ready to hear Rockin’ Robin make some sarcastic comment about try-hard patriotism. Yet you were still met with static. 

It didn’t make sense. If the military broadcast was running, why couldn’t you hear the Squawk?

Your eyes cut back to the emergency walkie that sat on the coffee table. You recalled Steve’s earlier instruction.

“I know you’re nervous about being alone at night,” he said, speaking to you with gentle reassurance. His knee brushed against yours as he presented the walkie to you, “But I’m one button away.”

“Why can’t I just call the station?” You asked as you accepted the walkie.

Steve gave you that half smile that appeared reserved only for you, “Because I’ll have my walkie with me in the booth. I’m being serious here.”

Your nose scrunched as you tried to hide your amusement, “So, just one click and you’re there?”

“Yep, but I am talking about emergencies. Like if a firework scorches the front yard or the military comes knocking – genuine emergencies,” His tone was sterner than he usually kept with you. Your eyes cut up to meet his, and for half a second, you thought you caught him glancing at your lips. But as his warm brown eyes held your gaze, he extended a pinky out to you. 

Something softened in your chest as you linked your fingers together in a silent promise.

Now, looking at the same walkie, you wondered if you should radio him. Just to ask if everything was okay or if they were getting interference again. It was an emergency, but it also wasn’t—

The shriek of an injured coyote pierced through the night, the cry coming from the woods behind the backyard bush line. Your eyes cut towards the hedges, searching for movement in the shadowed treeline. Your heart hammered against your chest as you waited, finally shutting off the static from the radio. 

Silence made it worse; it stretched each minute. A sudden sense of dread washed over you. You couldn’t explain it, but your survival instinct kicked in as you immediately shut all the blinds, blocking any onlookers. Next were the doors, both locks bolted shut on the front, back, and garage doors. 

Finally, you grabbed the walkie off the kitchen table and sought refuge in your bedroom. You double-checked the door lock before you finally willed yourself to breathe. You were just scared. It was all in your head. You were safe. 

The bedroom was dark, save for the small night light Steve had found in the attic for you. Outside, you heard a twig snap, and a bush rustled. You remained silent, ears tuned to listen for every small sound. A firework would burst against the night sky before the house plunged into stillness again, the difference almost deafening your senses. 

A chittering purr hummed lowly, cutting through the stillness of the night. On the far wall, the night light blinked once. Then twice. Outside, there was the faint scuff of nails scratching against the siding of the house. The night light flickered more, alternating between dim and bright light. 

You swooped to the opposite side of the room, yanking the light from the wall. The scratching continued; the instinct to hide took over all other rationality. You swiftly dropped to the bedroom floor, scurrying to conceal yourself under the queen bed. The chittering came again, now from outside your window on the second floor. 

Your palm covered your mouth, eyes shut tight as you waited… and waited…

A crack whipped across the sky – a final firework. A screech echoed, and suddenly the world was thrust into silence again. You slept on the floor beneath the bed that Fourth of July. 

— — —

The following days were tense. You were cordial with Steve and Robin. They had realized the next morning when you didn’t join them for breakfast or check on them in the booth during broadcast breaks. Any conversation was shut down before it could even start, and now, you chose to eat dinner in the Harringtons’ dining room instead of joining them on the TV trays in the living room. 

It had been six days of silence from you. Robin stopped staying over, too, sensing the tension that lingered. Steve was fraying at the seams from worry. 

You weren’t rude, you weren’t mean, just silent; Steve hated the silence. It was like all the progress you’d made had vanished overnight, and deep down, he knew it was partially his fault. That in his attempt to protect you from the reality of what Hawkins was facing, he was pushing you away. 

Robin had called earlier, asking if you were around to talk, but you dismissed both of them, blaming it on a sudden migraine. It wasn’t a complete lie. You often had migraines these days, but the military doctors simply noted it as a reaction to pressure changes in the atmosphere. 

It had been another silent dinner between the two of you. Steve attempted to extend the olive branch by joining you at the dining room table and telling you about a caller who reported that their neighbor’s hairless cat was harassing them. He awkwardly chuckled to himself as you pushed the food around your plate. The sound was as empty as the nonexistent conversation.

When you’d had enough of stale conversation, you swiftly stood, the feet of the chair scraping against the wooden floors. Steve’s eyes widened as they followed your retreating form into the kitchen. He watched as you tossed the remnants of your dinner into the bin before beginning to do the dishes. 

Steve was on his feet before he could stop himself, “Hey, no, I’ll do—”

“What? The dishes? Don’t bother,” You snipped at him, “I should get used to doing them anyway, if these ‘night shifts’ are gonna start becoming a regular thing.”

Of course, it was about the new addition of night shifts at the station. Steve ran his palm over the lower half of his face, “I thought Nancy explained it to you. They’re only twice a month. Three at the max.”

“But I’m not part of the staffing for the night shift? You don’t think that’s strange?”

“I’m not the station manager,” He threw his hands up, exasperated by the subject, “You should be happy that you get to be in bed and not cramped up at the station.”

“Right, cage the carnarey,” you rolled your eyes, attention returning to the dishes. 

Steve’s brow knitted together, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” you griped.

“No, no. Please, don’t do this,” Steve reached for your forearm. You easily pulled yourself from his hold, ignoring the call of your name as you continued scrubbing the plates. 

Steve jammed the heel of his palms against his eyes, pacing the floor of the kitchen as you simmered in your anger. A few moments later, his arms snaked around your waist, hugging you from behind. His forehead pressed once against your shoulder before he turned his head and buried it into the crook of his neck, nose lightly brushing over your soft skin. 

You froze in place, the faucet still running. Your hands hesitantly placed the plate and sponge back in the sink, “Steve—”

“I’m sorry, but please, if you’re gonna be upset with me, at least don’t be upset with Robin or the others,” He murmured, keeping himself tucked closely, “You are smart and helpful and unbelievably gracious with me, with us, with all of us. So… trust me when I say I’d rather take the night shift and know that you’re home, safe and sheltered.”

The tips of his fingers gently pressed against your side, resisting the urge to pull you closer. You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath. A sigh fell out of your mouth as your hands settled on his forearms.

Together in the dim light of the kitchen, you swayed back and forth. 

— — — 

The air hadn’t settled quite yet, but it lacked the tension that had been wound tight between the party. Robin was all too excited when you and Steve picked her up the next morning, and you started the conversation about what to do after the broadcast. Steve silently smiled to himself as he watched the two of you chatter away in his periphery. 

As July faded into August, Steve had decided to host Robin, Nancy, and Jonathan over at the house for some much-needed ‘recovery time’. You quickly learned that it was code for imbibing when neither the younger teens nor the real adults were around. It felt like being in high school again and sneaking out for the homecoming party without the worry of a noise complaint. 

Nancy, with the assistance of Robin, carried in three bottles of wine and two six-packs of beer while Steve and Jonathan snuck into the backyard. The boys shared a knowing smirk as Jonathan explained the benefits of the purple palm tree delight. 

Your gaze was torn from the back door when Robin placed a Coors Lite in front of you. You politely shoved the bottle back towards her, “Um, thanks, but I prefer wine.”

Robin chuckled, “It’s not for you.”

“Then who is it for?” You raised a brow. 

“For Steve,” Your friend explained, nodding her head like you would telepathically understand her meaning. 

“Okay…” You glanced between the bottle and Robin, “What’s that got to do with me?”

Nancy shook her head, trying to hold in her own amusement. Robin gestured towards you, though she was clearly speaking to Nance, “I told you. They’re hopeless.”

A huff of disbelief escaped your lips, “Excuse me?”

“No, no – it’s cute really,” Nancy smiled, something warm and playful, “You and Steve are just… how can I put it?”

“Oblivious,” Robin answered bluntly. 

“Uh, oblivious,” You sputtered, feeling your cheeks heat up, “To what?”

“Jesus Christ.”

Nancy extended a hand towards Robin, grabbing her by the elbow. The blue-eyed girl couldn’t keep it in, “Are you and Steve like…?”

Both of them nodded towards you, hoping you would provide a final verdict to their question, “Are we… what? Together? I— please, we’re roommates.”

“And?” Nancy leaned forward against the granite countertops. 

“And nothing,” You shook your head, dismissing their invasive questions, “Plus, didn’t you date Steve?”

Robin laughed at your boldness while Nancy’s nose scrunched, the tips of her ears turning pink, “Yeah, we did. But that’s water under the bridge. And he’s my friend. I like to see him happy.”

You stilled at that. Happy. Sure, amidst all the panic and insanity over the past few months, you’d felt happiness. In fact, you were happiest when you were with Steve. But of course, Robin was also typically around too, so you could argue that you were happiest when both your closest friends were around—

“Oh my god, you both are insufferable,” Robin pretended to bang her head against the counter, while Nancy kept a hand on her shoulder to make sure she accidentally didn’t do just that. 

It was perfect timing for a change in conversation, because the boys walked in, and with them, the scent of the aforementioned purple palm tree delight. You thought you saw Nancy roll her eyes, yet she simply sipped from her wine as she reached for Jonathan’s hand. Steve placed himself next to you while he laughed at something Jon had said, cheeks dimpling and shaking his head. 

Robin raised her brows, catching your attention. She pointedly glanced between you, Steve, and the beer bottle from earlier. Even though you hadn’t admitted to anything, you took the hint and slid the bottle towards Steve. 

The scrape of the glass against the countertop pulled his focus from Jonathan, eyes landing on your face before following down to the drink. His smile was easy, rehearsed even, but Robin noticed how Steve leaned half an inch closer to you. With a polite nod, he accepted the beer. The cap popped off with practiced ease, and he had to resist the urge to see if you had been watching him as intently. 

“I think we should watch Stand By Me,” Jonathan suggested with a shrug, glancing around for approval.

“No way, man,” Robin scoffed, her displeasure clear on her face, “We agreed on watching a comedy. And dark humor doesn’t count.”

“I told you I own all three Star Wars films. The little bears are funny,” Steve attempted to do an impression of an Ewok, only for it to earn a stifled chuckle from you. His eyes flicked down towards you, and though his tone was more serious, you knew he was just being his usual self, “Oh, yeah? And what do you think we should watch, missy?”

Before you could answer, Robin replied, “Don’t ask her that. She’s just gonna say Sixteen Candles again.” 

You stuck your tongue out at her, “What’s wrong with John Hughes?”

“Nothing,” She threw her hands up, “Except for the fact that he has a million better movies! But even then, I’m gonna suggest Spielberg.”

“We could always just watch E.T,” Nancy added to the mix.

“Yeah, that’s a no,” Steve was quick to shut it down. Your eyes flicked over to him, confused by his tone. Steve opened and closed his mouth again, trying to find the right explanation without ruining his tough-guy persona. “He’s creepy.”

“It’s a puppet, Steven,” you snidely remarked, laughing with Robin. 

He set the beer back down on the counter, hands settled on his hips as he floundered for words, “I– Well, yeah, I know that–”

“Do you?” Robin jeered, taking the first step towards the living room. 

It took another fifteen or so minutes before you all settled on Top Gun. Robin was relaxed in Mr. Harrington’s old recliner, feet draped over the arm as her toe occasionally tapped Jonathan’s knee. Nancy was tucked into his side on the smaller couch, Jon’s arm slung around her waist. That left you and Steve on the larger couch, a scene similar to many movie nights before, but after your intervention with the girls in the kitchen, your stomach flipped. 

You kept a respectable ten-inch distance; close enough for comfort, but not to draw attention. Attention to what, you weren’t sure. But you knew that you didn’t need to give your friends any ammunition. If Steve noticed, he made no complaint as he plopped down, casually man-spreading. 

The minutes ticked by as the movie played on. Each of you laughed, the occasional person leaving to refill their snacks or use the restroom. But it felt normal. In another life, these were your high school pals you spent time with at the end of summer before you all went your separate ways for college. Despite the thought, you were glad to have each of them in this life. 

Somewhere along the way, Steve had slowly made his way closer to your end of the couch. You hadn’t tracked the minor movements he made getting a beer or a fresh Coke for Robin, or scootching closer when accepting a snack from your plate. If the others had realized what Steve was doing, they made no notice of it. They barely noticed the distant roll of thunder, a sound that made both you and Steve a little on edge. 

By the time the credits were rolling, it was obvious there would be another storm tonight. Steve was quick to his feet, “Alright. It’s past town curfew, so you’re all welcome to stay here if you don’t feel like getting pulled over by MP’s.”

The others groaned in agreement, shifting to start tidying their spots before heading upstairs. Steve’s eyes cut back to you, catching your attention with the gentle murmur of your name, “Mind helping me outside before the storm picks up?”

“Oh, of course,” You shyly smiled as he offered you a hand. He tugged you up in one swift motion, making your shyness melt with a giggle. You could feel Robin and Nancy's eyes secretly watching the moment, and you released your hold on Steve. “Let’s go.”

He simply nodded, taking the lead towards the back deck. When you turned to close the sliding glass door behind you, you shot your friends a glare, to which they smirked in amusement. The plastic pool furniture creaked as Steve closed the lounge chairs. He took two at a time, giving you a sheepish look at your admonishing glance, “Do not tear open those stitches again.”

“Ha, ha,” Steve huffed, storing the pieces under the deck, “Thank you, nurse, but they are in fact healed now.”

Your eyes narrowed at him, but Steve acted unaffected as he held your gaze. 

“Fine,” you huffed, snatching the poolside table and stowing it, “But don’t come crying to me when you pull a muscle or scratch your elbow—”

“Aw, you worry about me,” His smile stretched into that half smirk he reserved for you more often than not. Beneath it was the smugness you could recall from the stories of King Steve. But his smirk wasn’t a weapon; it was something genuine despite his sarcasm, “How sweet.”

You feigned a scoff, rolling your eyes at his taunt, “You know I do actually worry about you.”

“Oh, I know,” He chuckled, moving to grab the last of the lounge chairs before you could, “It’s cute.”

“Cute?” You asked, your tone more clipped. 

Steve’s brow furrowed, catching your disgruntled question, “What’s wrong with being cute?”

“I– Nothing’s wrong. I just don’t see you calling Robin, or Nancy, or anyone else ‘cute’ unless you’re being sarcastic,” You clarified, dismissing the concern with a wave of your hand. You gave him a pointed glance, “Are you being sarcastic with me?”

“No, I, it was a compliment,” He attempted to explain, a languid sigh escaping him. 

You shook your head and stepped back. You didn’t want to bicker over something so stupid as his vocabulary or the implication of his comment. So while Steve continued clearing the patio, you moved to dip your feet in the pool. 

Once finished, his hands settled on his hips, eyes moving from the empty pool deck to observe your disposition. A stillness hung in the air as Steve watched you. Even in the reflecting light of the pool, you looked beautiful, but he could still see the scared girl he and Robin ran into all these months ago. He parted his lips to speak, only for you to glance back at him. 

You simply sat by the pool in the cover of night, looking at each other in silence. The symphony of crickets and an owl played low beneath the tension of the moment. Steve looked as if he were doing everything in his power to hold himself back from speaking. Because maybe now was the moment to tell you everything. Well, not everything, but at least finally admit that there was something more happening between you both. Because friends didn’t cuddle on the couch, or hold each other in the kitchen, or dare to look at each other the way you both did. 

Steve cleared his throat, “Right, guess it’s time for bed—”

“I asked Nancy to schedule me for the next night shift,” The admission tumbled from your lips before you could catch yourself. 

Steve froze, eyes wide in disbelief and something you couldn’t name, “And what did she say?”

“No,” You shrugged, crossing your arms over your chest, and you released a frustrated sigh, “of course.”

He pressed his lips together, trying to find the right words. He took a step forward with the gentle call of your name, “It’s really for the best. They’re exhausting, nothing fun happens, and Dustin—”

Your eyes instantly snapped back up to his face, brows furrowed, “Why is Dustin there?”

“I– He’s a genius, you know that. The station engineer or whatever,” Steve stammered for an answer to redirect the conversation into safe territory. 

“He’s a child,” You corrected, posture straight as an ugly feeling spread through your chest, “You let a child work the night shift, but I can’t?”

Steve ran a hand over his face, realizing how badly he’d slipped up in mentioning Dustin, “It’s summer. It’s not like he has school or anything else to do.”

“I just… I don’t get it, Steve. I think we’re friends; I thought you liked me, but…” Your hand gestured outward, expressing the frustrated words you couldn’t quite spit out.

“But what?” Steve shook his head, trying to piece together what you weren’t saying, “We’ve been over all these things. I don’t understand why not working a night shift is such a burden to you.”

“Because what if I wake up one morning and you don’t come home, Steve? What if I’m alone again?” Your tone was clipped, but your anxiety was evident. You cut your gaze away, refusing to meet his concerned look as you laid your final card, “I think the worst part of it is that I still trust you. Even when all evidence shows I shouldn’t.”

Steve stilled for a moment, unsure how to swallow that admission and how heavily your accusation weighed on him. “What do you mean by that?”

You shook your head, closing your eyes as you released a heavy sigh, “The late-night broadcasts? They always cut out around 10 pm.”

His brown eyes darted across your face, obviously attempting to remain casual, “I– it’s probably just military interference. I can– I’ll have Dustin check the antenna and see if—”

“I don’t need Dustin to check the antenna or Nancy to call the house or Robin to distract me,” You cut him off, your emotions getting the better of you. Before you can think twice, you’re on your feet to retreat indoors. Your voice cracked from the weight of it all, “I need you to be honest with me.”

Steve was instantly at your side, his large hands settling over your forearms to prevent you from leaving. His lips tried to form words, not knowing if they would be the right ones when your eyes finally met, and the world stilled for a beat. 

“I love you,” Steve spoke plainly, like it was completely obvious for you to have come to such a conclusion on your own. But his admission didn’t stop there, “And I know it might be crazy to admit that given everything that has happened and will happen. It’s silly, maybe it isn’t, but when I saw you alone at the gymnasium after Robin had found you, something clicked. I don’t know how or why, but it feels like you’re someone I have always known. Sure, in a way I have, but I have also spent every moment since that day learning you and who you are and how wonderfully made you are. You’ve seen the devastation, and every day I worry that it will get worse, or that fate will finally catch up to the kids, or Robin, or you; and I’m spiraling at these night shifts because all I want to know is that when the sun comes up you’re safe. Then I come home to you, and I forget about everything falling apart around us, and it feels like I’m holding the world in my arms. And I feel– I feel—”

“Alive.” You completed his sentence. 

Steve nodded, speechless beneath your gaze. The tension in his shoulders dissipated as your own guard began to drop. His hands traced from your forearms, down to your hands, intertwining your fingers as he took a half step closer. 

There were no words left to speak when his eyes said everything you needed to know. A glimmer of admiration danced in them as his head dipped closer. Before you could close the distance yourself, Steve closed his eyes and pressed his forehead to your own. Together, you breathed in tandem, taking in a brief moment of clarity in a chaotic storm. 

“I’m gonna make it all up to you. I’m gonna fix all that’s wrong,” Steve hummed, the words hushed and meant solely for you, “You won’t ever be alone again. Not while I’m around. We just have to bide our time. The night shifts and the quarantine won’t be forever. And then I’m gonna hold you forever.”

Both of you chuckled at his words, even if they were cheesier than either of you cared to admit in the moment. Somewhere deep, you knew that the troubles he spoke about were greater than you knew. But if it helped him to know that these troubles couldn’t touch you, maybe it would be worth the nights alone in the Harrington home. 

Steve opened his eyes once more, their gentle brown hues looking at you in adoration. He released one of your hands, moving to cup your jaw instead gently. His thumb smoothed over the line of your jaw, basking in the rawness of the moment, before he finally tilted his head to slot his lips over your own. The kiss was something gentle, like something inside him was still nervous about being wrong, and that you didn’t crave him as much as he needed you.

Yet when you reciprocated and lightly tugged him closer, Steve completely took the hint. You pressed harder against him, the gentleness giving way to need as your tongue briefly traced his lower lip. He whined into your mouth yet doubled his efforts, licking into your mouth as the tip of his nose smushed firmly against your cheek. 

When you broke away for air, Steve continued to look at you with a deep admiration you’d never seen from another person. You hummed, gently brushing your thumb over his cheek, “I love you, too.”

Steve was lost for words, something new for a man who always had something to say. Instead, his arms circled your waist before lifting you in the air, spinning you around as the wind whipped through your hair and the first drops of rain pattered against the concrete and seeped into your warm skin. You laughed, and Steve realized that it was his favorite sound in the world. 

When the rain began to pick up, he placed you back down on the ground, tugging you back towards the house to get inside for the night. Once safely inside, you were back in his arms, deft fingers pushing the few wet strands of hair from your face. He remained silent, eyes tracing each contour and curve of your face, committing the masterpiece of you to memory; his world, his muse. 

“Earth to Steve, you still with me?” You gently asked him. Your hardened disposition from months of chaos and devastation faded as you trusted Steve with the light you had desperately tried to protect from the outside world. He simply nodded as he continued to hold you close. 

The sound of the fridge closing pulled both of you from your trance. While it was your instinct to jump back, Steve hugged you tightly to his side as he stood slightly in front of you. In the kitchen entryway stood Nancy with a glass of water in her hand and a pleased smile on her face. The knowing look in her eyes made your chest burn, and Steve shyly chuckled, knowing that you two were finally caught red-handed. 

“Need anything, Nance?” Steve asked to dissolve the awkwardness of being caught.

“Nope,” The girl shook her head and began to step towards the stairs. Both of you knew that Nancy was going to head right up those stairs and inform both Jonathan and Robin of what she saw before either of you had the chance to address anything. But that thought didn’t scare you because something finally felt right; something good happened despite the fate of Hawkins. She cast a final smile towards the two of you, offering a quick wave, “Good night.”

“Good night,” Both of you echoed in reply, remaining still until you heard the faint click of the door shutting. 

A fit of giggles escaped you as you pulled away from Steve’s side. Steve flashed you a warm smile, shrugging his shoulders, “Well, so much for moving in our own time.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry too much about them,” You hummed. Everything felt natural, the way you reached for his hand and moved towards the staircase, pausing to press a kiss to his cheek. 

Steve chuckled, eyes squinting as he tried to distract you from the way his cheeks flushed pink, “You go on up to bed. I need to lock up and call Dustin. But in the morning, once they leave, I’m taking you out to breakfast. Jonathan can sub in for me during the morning broadcast.”

“Oh, really? So who’s actually gonna open up the station and get the coffee ready if I’m not there?” You questioned his plan.

He rolled his eyes, expecting the question and all too thrilled for this breakfast date already, “Nance, of course. Now off to bed with you.”

You nodded, eyes lingering on him as you moved towards the stairs. However, Steve caught your wrist once more, moving in to press another kiss to your lips. He mumbled against them before parting ways, “Good night.”

“Good night, Steve,” you waved from the stairway. With a final smile, you slipped out of sight towards your bedroom, heat blooming in your cheeks. 

As he locked up for the night, Steve was reeling, already thinking of where he wanted to take you on all the unofficial dates that he hadn’t asked you for yet, but that he couldn’t wait to take you on. For the first time in a long time, some of the weight on his chest dissipated. Because someone loved him. Someone saw the scars and the tears and the flaws; yet loved him for it nonetheless. 

Suddenly, his world fell right back into tune. 

And while Steve would fall asleep with a new hope for tomorrow and the future, doubt comes in to plague your dreams. 

— — — 

Falling asleep had been easy; the easiest it had been in a long, long time. It was the kind of peaceful, almost dreamless sleep that urges you deeper. As you floated downward into the velvet darkness, a mangled hand reached out, and a flash of white filled your vision. 

You woke with a gasp, breathing in as much air as your lungs would permit. The room was cold and stagnant. Far too cold for late July, even with the fan spinning. Your fingers curled into the duvet, tugging it closer to your shaking frame. 

Despite waking up, your heartbeat refused to settle, and the sound of blood rushed in your ears. Before you thought better of it, you moved to your feet, swiftly moving into the attached bathroom. You twisted the faucet for cold water, hands dipping down to splash it across your face. Your palms pressed the cool rag against the warmed skin of your cheeks, offering some reprieve. 

Once you caught your breath, you turned off the faucet and collected yourself. It’s just a dream, you assured yourself; it’s all in your head. 

There was movement in the corner of your eyes – a spider on the wall. Fear coursed through you as you picked up the tissue box from the counter, smacking it right over the arachnid. Your chest rose and fell with bated breath as you withdrew your makeshift weapon, only to find no sign of the spider. 

You stumbled back towards the bedroom, blaming the scene on your drowsiness. It was something so simple to imagine. 

Your foot never hit the carpet. Instead, the patter of water sounded beneath your feet. Surrounding you was darkness, endless and vast. You could only make out your own reflection in the water that rippled with each step you took. 

“Steve?”

“Robin?”

“Nancy?!”

“Steve!”

Only your echo responded in the void. You felt nothing, yet you felt everything. You were lost in a place that couldn’t quite be described as hell, nor would you claim it to be the peaceful afterlife you silently prayed for. No, this was purgatory. 

“Steve?!”

A dull ache settled in your skull, making your body move sluggishly through the shallow water. One of your migraines again. You hardly took two steps further when a shiver passed through you. 

“Hello, (Y/N).”

The fear was immediate.

You ran. You ran as quickly as your feet would carry you, running further into the endless abyss. There was no thought to it, only action, only fear. Could you even outrun what you could not see or know to be there?

“Your friends think they can stop fate, but they are fools in the might of Gods.”

The reflection of the scales halted your movements. There in the water, an albino rattlesnake coiled around itself, unassuming to your presence. Your body went frigid as its rattling stopped. The creature’s head lifted to stare at you, black eyes boring into you, fully aware that you were now prey. 

It slithered towards you, and you were helpless to move, your body paralyzed. Its alabaster body curled around your foot, a faint hiss hanging threateningly low. 

That’s when you heard it. In the distance. Your name and Steve’s voice. Hope blossomed in your chest. 

The voice was quick to kill it again, “That boy cannot stop destiny. The vultures are already looming on the horizon, ready to pick you clean, little canary. But I can save you. The choice is yours… if you’re willing to choose.”

Before you could answer, the rattlesnakes dove into the shallow water below, swimming down with no resistance. In your shock, you stumbled back, expectant and ready to collide with the water or follow the snake down. 

Only you awoke in your bed back in the Harrington home. You sat up, flicking the bedside lamp on. Your fingers flew to the wet feeling on your cheeks. Tears. You wiped at your face, your knuckles brushing against your nose. 

And in the warm lamp light, you saw it smeared on the back of your hand — blood.

It was routine for him at this point. 6 AM would hit, but he was never fully rested. He tossed around too much in his sleep — nightmares… memories. But that didn’t matter when the party needed him. So he’d get up, splash some cold water on his face, and get dressed. 

Robin heard him in the kitchen. She always heard when he’d pace up and down the halls at night. If she ever asked, Steve would excuse it by needing to use the bathroom in the middle of the night. But she knew he was just trying to pass the time until morning. That’s why it didn’t surprise her when she found him already brewing a pot of coffee, notably using the ‘good grounds’ his mother had always bought an extra bag of. 

“I don’t think our guest will be joining the land of the living anytime soon,” Robin tried to joke. 

Steve huffed as he tugged two mugs down from the cabinet, “I don’t blame her. She looked completely drained when we dropped her here yesterday.”

“Well, I hope you didn’t tell that to her face, dingus,” Robin scoffed on your behalf. Sometimes she forgot that Steve could still be a boy after all. 

“Of course, I didn’t,” Steve shot her a look as he poured the coffee, “I just— feel bad, you know? Being abandoned? Dealing with the rift? I mean…”

He set the pot down and rubbed a hand over his face, “She doesn’t know what’s going on, nobody does, and no one can explain—”

“We can explain,” Robin took a half step forward with her tentative suggestion, “We can’t exactly hide the Upside Down from the rest of Hawkins anymore.”

Steve’s stance went rigid at the implication in Robin’s voice. He knew that she meant well, that she just wanted you to be aware of the dangers Hawkins was facing. His brow furrowed as he steeled his expression, “You know we can’t do that.”

“Why? Because the government is gonna get mad?” Robin stood her ground. When Steve turned his attention back towards the coffee, she marched across the kitchen to confront him, “Newflash, Harrington, but we’ve got bigger problems than the government finding out that we opened our mouths to the new girl in the party.”

“She’s not in the party — Wheeler would flip his shit if you said that in front of him,” Steve attempted to steer the argument. He snagged the milk from the fridge to finish making Robin’s cup. 

Her hand moved to rest over the rim of the mug, halting his movements, “I don’t care what Mike has to say. The military is already on its way. And she’s here and will be involved by association, no matter what you say or do. Besides, she’d realize that something is going on eventually. We don’t have a plan now, but we will soon. How do we explain that we’re monster hunting in another dimension that caused Hawkins to crack open like an egg?”

“Exactly, how do you explain that, Robin?” Steve looked his best friend square in the eye. He was grateful enough to still have Robin through all the insanity and knew that she was just trying to help him help you. But Robin didn’t consider all the consequences like he had, “Billy, Heather, Chrissy, Eddie — we’ve already lost so many people. Do you want to risk making her a casualty?”

“I— No… but?” Robin looked completely deflated, her concern clear, “I can’t lie to her forever. And we don’t know what dangers will come. And I refuse to let anyone be alone anymore.”

“Okay, okay,” Steve nodded, taking a deep breath. He mulled over her words, attempting to determine an outcome they could compromise on, “We can’t tell her about everything. But if things start happening or if the military reports on it, we will explain what we can. And… she’s not alone, Rob. She’s got you. She’s got us.”

Robin shook her head and lightly punched Steve’s shoulder, the tension easing, “One night and you’re already a sap for this girl.”

Steve’s jaw dropped at the accusation, his hands settling firmly on his hips. “I am a concerned friend… a friend.”

“She’s my friend,” Robin chuckled at his reaction, “You hardly know her. Like, really know her.”

“Well, I am going to know her,” Steve stuck out his tongue. 

Overhead, the two of them could hear the patter of your footsteps, signaling that you were finally out of bed. Just like that, they would table the discussion for the future. 

Robin yawned as she took her mug from the counter. She sipped on her coffee while toeing back towards the living room, “Right, right. But Steve?”

“Yes?” He hummed.

“Don’t come on too strong.”

— — —

You never expected Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington to be so painfully awkward. In high school, Steve was suave and confident, gliding through the halls of Hawkins High with ease. Yet the first week you spent at the Harrington Home was filled with the painful awkwardness of readjusting to a new normal. 

Robin was your only saving grace — God help you both. She eased the mealtime silence with terrible jokes and self-deprecating comments. And though it helped to soothe you, Steve was noticeably on edge. You weren’t sure if it was your presence or if the devastation of Hawkins was finally catching up to him. But Steve hardly spoke to you when he was home. He really just observed you. It was like your conversation that first night never happened. 

Two nights passed the same. The three of you had dinner, you’d offer to clean, and Steve would make excuses for why he could do it himself. 

When he dismissed you on the fourth night, your shoulders deflated as you left the kitchen. Maybe Steve just didn’t care to know you any better, or maybe you had to accept that he simply didn’t trust you as much as you first presumed. 

It had been a full week since the rift had torn through Hawkins. The military had begun setting up blockades, controlling traffic in and out of the town. In downtown, in the main square, the military had just established a Military Access Control Zone and warned citizens to keep their distance. 

Robin had quite a bit to say about the military presence in Hawkins, “I just think it’s excessive!?”

“The earth cracked open, Robs. Indiana has never seen this kind of seismic activity.” You twisted the phone cord while keeping your eyes fixed on the TV. Steve was currently in the kitchen, whipping up some dinner from the groceries he could get at the store today. 

“So… Has Stevie brought any girlies home?” Robin chuckled at her own snide question. 

You pondered it for a moment. For a notorious ladies man, Steve hadn’t brought anyone home since you moved in. You simply assumed on the nights when he got home past curfew that he was out with a rendezvous. 

“Um, come to think of it, no,” A commercial break hit, and you shifted your position on the couch. “When are you coming back over? It’s just… quieter here without you.”

“My mom’s not gonna let me leave the house until they give an update about the guy that was mauled in the woods last week,” Robin groaned at the reminder, “Those claw marks were seriously too large for coyotes, and I’m not convinced of the bear theory either.”

“What? You think something crawled out of the rift?” You laughed at the preposterous idea. Robin didn’t seem amused, however, leaving you with silence. 

“Listen, I gotta go, because I unfortunately am expecting another call, but I’ll see you and Steve when you pick me up for the town assembly tomorrow, yeah?” Robin cleared her throat, a touch of nerves making her voice tremble. 

“Yeah. We’ll catch you then,” you confirmed before exchanging quick farewells. Once you placed the receiver back on the stand, you took a deep breath. Your eyes glanced back in the direction of the kitchen as you contemplated the past two weeks.

Dinner with Steve passed in tense silence again. Multiple times, you had felt his gaze drifting over your frame, but when you tried to catch his eye, he’d cut them away while pink heated his cheeks. Once you finished your meal, you simply placed your plate in the sink, but didn’t offer to assist before heading upstairs for the night.

— — —

It started raining shortly after you had gone to bed. The thunder jolted you awake after another appearance from the gray-skinned creature you encountered a week ago. Every few seconds, lightning flashed across the sky, filling the room with blinding light before submerging it back into darkness. It was the kind of storm that sent children running for their parents. It was the kind of storm you’d learned to brave alone. 

Your fingers clutched the comforter as another crack of thunder rattled the windows of the home. You wondered if it was simply a passing thunderstorm or another bad omen in consequence of the rift. It was tornado season, too, which didn’t ease your worry. 

If there was a weather emergency, you didn’t really know what to do, or if the Harrington home was equipped to deal with such a disaster. By the next thunderstrike, you were on your feet, making a beeline to Steve’s room. Maybe you were overreacting, but you felt unprepared to handle an actual incident. 

As you padded into the hall, you thought about Steve asleep in his bed. You didn’t want to scare him awake, but you also knew that you couldn’t go back to sleep until you felt like there was some set safety plan. One that didn’t include walking back to the high school to seek help… again…

You were brought to a halt when a clipped grunt came from the bathroom near the top of the staircase. One door down, Steve’s bedroom door was ajar, the nightlight illuminating the room. Light poured from the slit beneath the closed door. The sound of running water pulled you from your confused trance. 

Without much thought to it, you raised your fist to knock on the bathroom door, “Steve?”

You could’ve sworn you heard him whimper. Was he hurt? Had he been hurt and you just hadn’t known? Guilt wracked your chest as the thought crossed your mind. Neither of you had really mentioned first aid or asked about any injuries, related or unrelated to the rift. 

You followed up with another knock, “Steve, are you okay? I just wanted to check in… because of the storm.”

“Y-Yeah,” Steve grunted in reply, clearly attempting to downplay whatever was wrong, “I’ll be… out in a moment. You’re welcome to wait in… my room.”

Your hand fell back to your side while your eyes flicked across the doorframe. You could either wait in his room as he asked or continue talking to him through the door. Before you could consider either option, another large crack of thunder echoed through the house. 

The noise made you yelp in shock. Before you could truly steel yourself, Steve pulled the bathroom door open, concern etched into his face, “What happened? Are you okay?”

You couldn’t help it as your eyes drifted from his protective stare down the spat of hair on his chest before landing on the open wounds on either of his sides. Surprise painted your face as you continued to gawk at him, eyes flittering between the wounds and his face, “Oh my god, Steve?! We need to get you to the hospital!”

“No, no hospital,” Steve quickly asserted. 

Confused by his refusal, you tried to protest, “Steve, I’m serious. That’s not just a cut you can clean and bandage at home, and– are those stitches?”

“Torn stitches,” Steve answered, but waved his hand to change the subject. It landed on your bicep, heavy and warm, catching your attention, “Don’t worry about that. Are you okay?”

“I— What?” You blinked twice, now confused by the silent panic in his eyes, “I’m fine. Why are you asking that?”

Steve cocked his head, baffled himself, “You… screeched?”

“I didn’t screech.” Your brow furrowed. Thunder snapped again, and Steve watched as your attention snapped upwards. He felt the muscle of your bicep stiffen, and your breath quicken. 

He understood immediately, “You’re scared of thunder?”

When you didn’t respond, Steve rested his free hand on your shoulder, attempting to ground you once more. His thumbs rubbed in gentle circles, and your attention drifted from your surroundings to Steve. As your eyes focused on his face, you noted every little freckle and the little constellations they made on his tanned skin. His gaze never wavered, and his eyes held a gentleness you’d never seen from another.

“I’m fine,” You cleared your throat, breaking the moment, “I just… The last storm tore my house in two… so…”

Steve blinked at your confession, arms falling back to his side. A moment later, he released a breathless chuckle, “Hm… yeah, I guess that’s as good a reason as any.”

A smile cracked across your lips at his easy laugh. The sound was a breath of fresh air. But it was gone again when Steve grimaced, clutching his left side, “shit!”

When his knees buckled at the pain, you were quick to stabilize him, guiding him to sit on the closed toilet seat. “Why are you bleeding?!?”

“I’m sorry. I must’ve pulled my stitches hauling the pool furniture into the shed so it didn’t get sucked up in the storm,” His tone was too apologetic for the situation, but you didn’t have time to evaluate that in the current moment. You needed to stop the bleeding and apparently stitch him together again. 

You moved in silence, snatching the rag he’d likely been using to clean away the dried blood. You folded it into quarters before pressing it against the wound on his abdomen. Guiding his hand to apply the right amount of pressure, you snagged the only other washcloth to repeat the process on the left side. 

Steve tried to stay silent, to grit his teeth and bear it like he had last summer in the basement of Starcourt Mall. As he watched you move with precision, Steve selfishly thought to himself how nice it would’ve been to have you clean him up after the Russians tortured him. He didn’t know you then, but he was grateful to have an angel like you now. 

“An angel, hm?” You glanced up at him from the bathroom floor, where you sprawled out the first aid supplies. 

“Shit…” Steve hung his head in realization that he was thinking out loud, “I’m sorry… I– Well—”

“I hope whatever bit you didn’t have rabies,” You interrupted, gesturing to the evident teeth marks in his side, “But we can just say the pain made you loopy.”

The joke made the corners of his mouth twitch upwards. Steve nodded, “Yeah, don’t worry. Robin already ruled out rabies, so you’re safe.”

“That’s like her number one biggest fear,” You continued the easy conversation as you used the alcohol pad to clean around the wound. 

Steve’s breath hitched as the alcohol stung against the tear, the muscles of his abdomen tensing under your touch. You observed the pained look on his face, trying not to show just how nervous you were in this moment. You were determined to pull Steve Harrington back together because Robin wouldn’t lose her best friend, and Hawkin’s golden boy could see another day. It was the least you could do. 

Peeling your eyes away from his face, you lightly fanned the area; most of the blood was cleaned off by now. And as if he could sense your concern despite your nonchalant expression, Steve could feel the underlying anxiety. So he did what he could do best at that moment: make you smile. 

“Rabies is her number one greatest fear,” Steve nodded, his voice raspy between the hour and the toll of the pain, “Direct quote.”

A smile cracked across your lips at his comment. You shuffled up onto your feet, supplies safely tucked beneath your arms, “It’s probably best if you lie down for the stitches part. Are you sure you don’t want to go to Hawkins Memorial?”

Steve shut his eyes, brow furrowed as he seemed to silently assess the situation, “No… No. They’re overcrowded as is—”

“That’s not an excuse to not get care—”

“It’s past military curfew. What if an MP pulls us over?” Steve reasonably asked. 

“Then we just explain that it's a medical emergency,” You huffed, not understanding why he was refusing professional help. 

Steve looked up at you, hands gripping the sides of the porcelain, “I appreciate your advice, I really do. But I just… I can’t go back to the hospital and get more questions. You can still see where they stitched the first time. If you aren’t comfortable doing this, you don’t have to. I can do it myself…”

His eyes cut back to glance behind you out of shame, “I’ve done it before…”

The way he mumbled the last few words made your stomach churn. Steve’s eyes remained fixated on the wall behind you, his expression steeled like it would keep a lid on the pain and everything he was hiding with it. 

You closed your eyes, taking a shallow breath, “Fine. But you have to promise me you won’t tear these stitches too. Can’t have you bleeding out.”

When you opened your eyes again, Steve was now looking at you, even eager to meet your gaze. 

“I promise,” He murmured, a soft boyish grin lifting the corner of his mouth, “Everything will be fine. I’ll make sure of you.”

“You better,” You shook your head, sighing in defeat. 

Tonight was not the night to argue. Tonight, you just had to make sure Steve Harrington could show up for Robin, Dustin, and his other friends, playing the older brother figure who tries to protect them all. And for the first time, you could understand why they cared for him. Because Steve Harrington could make you see how the world could be, in spite of the way it is. 

— — —

By May, Hawkins had been completely shut down. The only poor souls lucky to get in and out were the delivery trucks that had been supplying the town for the last month. Where your graduation day lacked in family, it was more than made up for by your friends. Crossing the stage with Robin, Steve cheering you both on as you knabbed your diplomas. Dustin tagged along, though you all could tell something was weighing on Steve’s younger friend. 

If the quarantine and earthquakes weren’t bad enough, the military was also in full control of the town. The police reported to the MPs, the local government rendered useless in the face of devastation. You, like every other citizen in Hawkins, now had to submit yourself to mandated weekly check-ups with the government doctors. No one knew what they were looking for and what symptoms could possibly come from that fallen ash. 

Hawkins was a shell of itself, and the townfolks were divided on every issue. Some folks turned to religion, placing all the blame on the “Hellfire Cult”, though the authorities had cleared all club members of being suspects. Others turned to alcohol or any other vice to take what little reprieve they could from the world. 

Another thing about how Hawkins had changed was its silence. 

Besides government broadcasts and police radios, Hawkins had been stripped of music. Nothing played when you shopped at Melvald’s, or stopped by the medical tents outside the Hawkins High gym. Robin had discovered just why that was. 

“Jimmy Fast Hands skipped town,” She slammed her hands down on the kitchen table. The small metal pieces of Steve’s walkie clanged against the wood, causing Dustin to groan as he attempted to repair some recent water damage. 

You were putting away some groceries as you called back to her, “Okay? We’ve got bigger issues than former radio dj’s.”

“Yeah,” Steve agreed as he helped tidy the kitchen after your return from the market, “Like the fact that they are seriously starting to crack down on rations. You’d think that the military would help keep the shelves a little more stocked.”

“Were they out of Boppers?” Dustin followed up as he finished piecing the walkie back together. 

“We managed to grab the last box,” You called back, stashing the treats in Steve’s special hiding spot above the microwave. 

Robin crossed into the kitchen, propping herself up on one of the countertops. Her feet swung, eyes darting between you and Steve, “I’m just saying, a radio station makes for a perfect hideout.”

“Hideout?” You paused at the pantry.

“Robin,” Steve stilled, sending a glare in her direction. The two exchanged another look. Luckily, you had gotten accustomed to their silent conversations. 

Whatever they were thinking was interrupted by Dustin, who finished inserting the screws for the walkie, “Robin makes a point. The WSQK has a stronger signal than Cerebro, and we don’t have to worry about being close to the MAC-Z.”

You chuckled, “You’re gonna break Steve’s heart if Casa Harrington gets demoted from being the hangout spot.”

Steve put his hands up, playfully defensive of his home, “I don’t get why you two think hanging out in the abandoned station would be cooler than my house.”

And though Steve tried to smile through his words, there was a clear tension between the three of them. Maybe that was your cue to move on or just let them have their space for a moment. You were still a new figure in “the party” as you had come to know all the kids teenagers.

Your arms circled around the remaining paper bag, filled with extra hygiene and household goods, “I’m gonna head upstairs to store this stuff and then probably take a nap.”

You yawned for good measure. Robin simply nodded while Steve tossed you a gentle smile, “Okay. Let me know if you need anything, though.”

“Yeah, Harrington, she’s gonna need all the help to stow away your emergency hair care products,” Dustin snickered from the table. 

Steve turned to shoot his younger friend a glare, providing you the opportunity to slip out of the kitchen and up the stairs. Dustin always had some snarky remark that kept Steve on his feet; that much you had observed of their relationship. You knew Steve felt the need to step up as a role model for Dustin, apparently now more than ever, according to Robin. And you didn’t want to get in the way of whatever that meant. 

Once Steve heard his bedroom door open and close, he was quick to shoot both Robin and Dustin a stern look, “Really, guys? Are we trying to be obvious?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Dustin huffed, getting to his feet. He made his way to the fridge, snagging a can of soda from the fresh inventory, “We have to discuss our ideas to combat Vecna and the Upside Down. You can’t just expect me to walk on eggshells because you don’t want to scare off the house guest whom you say is just a friend.”

“She is a friend, Henderson,” Steve tried to keep his voice even and not feed into Dustin’s antics. It was clearly one of those days where Henderson just wanted to see how far he could push until someone snapped. 

“Dustin has a point, though,” Robin interjected, her honesty making Steve’s broad shoulders deflate. She hopped off the countertop, “Even if we do keep it a secret, she’d start asking questions eventually. I mean, she was absolutely livid that we didn’t tell her about your demobat bites—”

“Robin—”

Dustin’s ears perked up at that tidbit of information, “You didn’t tell her?”

“I had accidentally torn my stitches, and she helped me without question,” Steve attempted to answer coolly, but the conversation with Robin and Dustin was quickly becoming an interrogation. 

Concern flashed through Dustin’s eyes, but he hid it with a scoff, “So you just plan on living with this girl until what? They lift the quarantine? No one knows when that will be. We might as well rip the band-aid off!”

“Yeah, that’s a no,” Steve put his foot down. 

Robin interjected, hoping to stop any argument before it could start, “And how long do you think we can keep the Upside Down a secret? The rift swallowed her house – she’s lucky to be alive. I get why you’re concerned, but I don’t understand why you refuse to tell—”

“Because I don’t want her to get involved!” Steve snapped, his voice clipped as he tried to keep his volume and frustration at a minimum. 

“She’s already involved,” Dustin attempted to counter, “You think not telling her will save her from fate? That’s not how this works, Steve.”

Steve’s stance straightened, neck snapping to meet Dustin’s riled expression, “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” Robin swooped in, saving the conversation from twisting into a full argument. Her eyes cut between both of the boys, watching as they continued to stare each other down. If they couldn’t agree, then Robin, as your closest friend, would make the decision. 

She took a deep breath, the tension in the kitchen slowly dissipating, “You both make valid points, so we meet in the middle. We won’t tell her about Vecna or the Upside Down, at least not yet—”

“Not ever—”

Robin waved a dismissive hand at Steve, “Not yet, because we don’t know what’s gonna happen. Things are already getting weird. It’s obvious that a couple of demodogs slipped through the rift, especially from that body they pulled from the lake last week. But we can’t isolate her. We figure it out, we compromise as we go. Capeesh?”

Steve and Dustin glared at each other a moment longer. Both knew it would be useless to argue further; they had to conserve their energy for future concerns. With a sigh, they nodded, “Capeesh.”

“Great, great,” Robin took a calming breath, “Now back to the radio station. I have an idea.”

— — —

Summer has finally arrived with warm June weather settling in over Hawkins. The longer days made the hard times and dark nights easier to live through. Normality and routine seemed to be returning, slowly but surely. Folks started going back to work, and the military announced that civilian activities could continue during normal daylight hours. One would think that the earthquake never happened if one also looked over the steel plates covering the cracked earth and the large military presence. It was a contradictory way of life.

It turned out that Robin’s idea was genius. The mayor’s office was looking for a group to run and operate the radio, especially since the airwaves currently carried only standard news and military communications. Suddenly, you found yourself employed as the assistant station manager at the Squawk, as so assigned by Nancy Wheeler. There were five of you who worked the station, but the party really chipped in with set-up and technical maintenance. 

Robin, or Rockin’ Robin as she insisted, worked as the main host and DJ for the station. Something about it just came to her naturally, and her brain was practically a filing cabinet when it came to music knowledge. Steve was a comparable sidekick, working as the sound board op. Nancy, the lead station manager, took it upon herself to work the late-night shifts and ran a tight ship. Her boyfriend, Jonathan, served as the traffic director and music archivist, though you all made your rounds tidying the catalog. 

All that lead you here, to another morning shift at the Squawk while Hawkins attempted to enjoy any tangible sense of normality. You stood outside the door of the radio booth with two fresh cups of coffee for Robin and Steve, who were about to have their first break of the morning. 

“Get ready to bust out that sunblock and head to the Hawkins Community pool. This weekend, we are expecting clear skies and high temps, our first ninety-degree day of the year,” Robin pointed back at Steve, queuing his next sound effect, “We’ve got some hot hits coming up, but first, let’s start off with ‘Working for the Weekend’ by Loverboy!”

Robin muted the mic and waited a few moments before signaling that they were clear for a break. Both of them removed their headsets, spotting you through the glass. They emerged from the booth with grateful smiles. 

“Oh my god, you’re a lifesaver,” Robin beamed as she accepted the mug, eagerly sipping at the hot coffee. 

“Not a problem, heard you had a late night here with Nance. Thought an extra cup might help you both out,” You easily explained as Steve silently thanked you as well. 

“And that’s why you’re the best,” Robin complimented, nudging her elbow against Steve’s side, “Isn’t she the best?”

Steve shook his head and chuckled, the corners of his eyes crinkled when they settled on you, “Of course, she’s the best.”

You waved your hand dismissively, attempting to remain nonchalant, “Please, it’s just coffee.”

“Just coffee,” Robin playfully mimics before taking another sip. She sets her mug down, checking the watch adorning her left wrist, “We’ve still got three minutes. I’m gonna sneak in a bathroom break!”

The lanky girl skirted her way around the corner towards the breakroom, leaving you alone with Steve. Your eyes followed her, but Steve’s brown eyes remained affectionately on you. 

“Robin is letting me pick the first half hour of the afternoon segment. Do you mind pulling these for me?” Steve asked with a gentle grin, passing you a scribbled note that listed his selections. Your fingers briefly brushed as you accepted it from him. His handwriting was surprisingly neat. 

“Stevie Nicks, Annie Lennox, Pat Benatar — looks like someone's been listening to my music recs,” You chuckled softly, tossing a warm glance in his direction. 

“Hard not to be influenced when you’re always bringing vinyls home for the living room record player,” Steve admitted with a shrug, but the pink dusting his cheeks gave him away. He scratched the back of his neck, “You give music meaning.”

His words left you speechless. Now, equally flustered, you wondered if Steve realized the effect of his words on you, “I– Well, thank you.”

Steve just nodded, not really sure of what to say himself. The tips of his ears were pink, signaling his embarrassment. There had been a number of moments like this recently, where neither of you wanted to end the conversation or be the first to go. You didn’t want to read into it and jinx your luck, because at the end of the day, you were lucky enough to still have a roof over your head. 

You thumbed back towards the music library, dismissing yourself, “Let me grab those for ya. Be back in a jif.”

As you turned away, Steve offered you a friendly wave, not trusting himself to oust himself further. Smooth, Steven, real smooth, he internally ridiculed himself. 

The Squawk had two levels to it — three if you counted the roof. The first level started with a small office and reception area, before opening up to the full operations that consisted of the broadcasting booth, technical equipment, and the break room. The second level, where you were headed, housed the archive and a couple of offices that the party renovated into bedrooms. They were highly useful on the nights when work ran past curfew, but you’d only used them a couple of times for a mid-morning nap. 

At one point, Robin mentioned that the station had a basement. But Nancy corrected her, informing you that the basement had been closed off after a storm came over and flooded the basement, destroying countless vinyls. Needless to say, it was smarter that you kept the archive on the second floor now. 

The archive seemed like an endless project because inventory was always going in and out. No one had the full time, nor the dedication, to restore it. Not only was the organization aspect lacking, but there were multiple lights out, and cobwebs seemed to appear the further back you searched. 

As you entered through the door, you propped the doorstop, leaving it ajar. With a soft hum, you started your search for Steve’s selections. Your thumb grazed over the note, feeling the idents from the pen. A smile pricked at the corner of your lips, knowing that these were songs you had shared with Steve while going through his mom’s collection that had been left behind. 

You paused at the first shelf titled ‘Synth’, combing through the ‘A’ section. Your continued to hum, the melody familiar — Here Comes the Rain Again. You remembered the way Steve laughed when you told him it was so catchy that you could hear the music when you hummed. When you spotted the familiar cover with Annie Lennox, you immediately pulled it out, pausing your humming. 

But you could still hear the music…

You whipped your head around, but the archive was still. Silent. There was no one else. 

With a sigh, you shook off the eary feeling in your stomach, chopping it up to be alone in the dark. That didn’t settle the hair standing on the back of your neck, but you wouldn’t be in the room for much longer. 

Continuing down the aisles and rows, the lingering feeling of being watched remained. Like a looming presence that refused to make itself known. As you paused again in front of the ‘P’ section, you glanced at the door of the archive, just to make sure it was still cracked open. It was. Of course it was. You were being paranoid. 

As you criticised yourself for acting so foolish, your fingertips flipped through in search of Pat Benatar. When you couldn’t find the vinyl of your first pass, you moved through them again, even venturing into Paul McCartnery to see if she had gotten mixed in. 

That’s when you first heard it. A faint whisper of your name. 

You glanced to either side; still silent, still alone. You continued with a huff, continuing on until she appeared – Pat Benatar! Robin usually kept a small box of Stevie, Fleetwood, and others on the first floor, so it was best to return there to find the final selection. You released a heavy breath, turning on the balls of your feet to leave. 

Once you stepped into the main aisle, you could easily spot the door again. Except it was shut with no light spilling into the dark, enclosed tomb of the archive. A chill ran down your spine. Your feet went to move, to leave the room and brush of the strange experience entirely. Yet you could hear the distinctly male voice groan your name again. 

Your eyes darted through the multiple aisle and small sections, searching for the source of the voice. It continued to beckon you, over and over again. 

“Steve? Jonathan?” You marched towards the door, still searching for another person. When you reached for the handle, the metal shocked you, a startled call leaving your throat, “Guys! This isn’t funny!”

The voice came again, louder and far closer. The single lightbulb that illuminated the doorway flicked once… twice… and then darkness. 

“You were better of alone,” The man sneered, still yet to make his presence known, “They can’t save you. The fate of Hawkins is sealed.”

It all came rushing back to you. Missing posters, the mall fire, the murders, and even the rift. These images flashed in your mind, forcing you to recall all the horrors that had befallen the town. 

Your breathes grew shallower as fear clawed up your chest, just like it had the night your lost your home to the rift. In the darkness, your hands batted against the door, praying that Steve or Robin could hear you, that their next broadcast hasn’t started yet. 

Hands gliding over the frame, you found the door knob once more, twisting and yanking it open. Light illuminated your vision once more as you stumbled out into the main area of the second floor. It took a moment for your breathing to settle again, eyes intently focused on the closed door to the archive. 

You couldn’t explain what you had seen, what you had heard. And if you couldn’t rationalize it to yourself, how could you ever explain it to Robin and Steve, or Nancy and Jonathan. How would it affect how they see you? They already spoke poorly about the folks who blamed the Hellfire Club and Satanic rituals for all the tragedies that had transpired. 

No… you couldn’t tell them. At least, not yet. 

You just needed a good night’s rest and to stop watching the scary movies the kids insisted on. Everything would be fine. You had Steve to make sure of it.