#evermore

This was all you could dread while standing on your childhood home’s front porch step for the first time in a year. You tried not to think about a year ago when your left hand was heavier and your smile wider. Instead, you mustered up a pathetic smile, welcoming your family with open arms. Praying to drop the topic that was your personal life, which surely wouldn’t last as long as you’d hope. 

The first crack came at dinner that night, your mother pulled out all the stops, a roasted chicken with all the sides. Before you could finish your plate, she cleared her throat loudly. 

“I don’t wanna say much. But you need to know that I saw Steve at the grocery store the other day with all those kids. His parents left town again, so he’s all alone in that big house.” If she saw you flinch at the sound of his name, she didn’t address it. 

“Thanks for the heads up. And the pity party attempt, mom.” You managed to get out, dropping your fork. Your appetite now undoubtedly ruined. 

A few moments of silence passed before Mom took that as an opportunity to keep going. “You know they’re still family to you. They’d love to see you. I’m still planning on bringing them a pie. It just wouldn’t be Christmas without-” 

“Mom, I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t.” You snapped, pulling the chair out more dramatically than you should have. 

“Y/m/n.” Your father sighed, pleading with his eyes for you to stay. “Let’s change the subject, shall we? How’s work been?”

Thankful for his diversion, you managed to get out some basics about work. The simple generic small talk. The only thing you could stomach. You just had to get through the next week, and everything would be fine. Right? 

Word of your arrival in town spread like wildfire; you knew it would the moment someone drove past your parents' house and saw your car out front. The first person to call came as a surprise, your mother holding out the kitchen phone for you. None other than Robin on the line. The last time you spoke to her, you were choking back sobs, screaming at her to tell you where Steve had gone. 

The night your life fell apart in front of your eyes was nearly 6 months ago. After 8 months of an engagement, the two of you decided to move, Chicago, calling your name. A fresh start, not too far from home. A place away from the expectations that lingered above his head, the ghosts that haunted underneath the town. You told yourself it was just stress from the move, stress from Steve having a hard time finding a job he loved. You convinced yourself that the distance that had grown between you two was normal. Wedding planning had been put on hold, simply trying to get through each day at a time. You weren’t in the city for 2 months before it came crashing down in front of your eyes. 

It was a normal day, until it wasn’t. You came home from work, your home absent of the joy it used to bring. In the same kitchen he used to pick you up and spin you around in, he sat against the table. Illuminated by nothing but the city lights peering in through the window. Your keys hitting the bowl on the counter echoed through the still house. 

“I can’t do this anymore.” He said, no pleasantries, no welcome home. Five words that tore open your chest, leaving you gasping for air. 

“What?” You laughed because what else was there for you to do? Shock had taken over your body, feet glued to the spot. Overcoat still on, work bag dangling from your arm. 

“This. Us.” He spoke through clenched teeth, tears staining his cheeks. “I can’t keep sitting in this apartment day in and day out, alone. Contributing nothing. You’re gonna end up hating me. If you don’t already.” 

The bag slipped from your arm with a heavy thud. Rushing over to him, standing across from the table. “What are you talking about? Where is this coming from?” 

“It’s been coming for a while, Y/n. We both keep dancing around it. I see it, you’re stressed out, pretending you’re not carrying me behind you like deadweight,” He sniffled, “I’m a fuck up, an embarrassment. Everything my dad said, I would be.”

You reached for him with shaky hands, knees falling to the floor beside him. Pulling yourself into his lap, holding his hands in yours. “Stop, stop.” You demanded, “I have never seen you like that. Ever. Steve, your father is an abusive piece of shit. Who cares what he thinks? It’s only been a few months; it’s going to take time. Everything is going to work out. I keep telling you that, and I believe it.” 

“I see myself like that, and I can’t unsee it. Day in and day out, I’m here in this city, alone.” He shook his head, barely responding to your begging him to look at you, to hold you back. To pretend he wasn’t okay with all that you built to slip through his fingers.  “Yeah, we were bored at home, but this is the alternative? Being alone in a city that doesn’t care if I exist.”

You scoffed. “We didn’t leave because we were bored. We left because we deserved better. Because after everything you’ve been through, after everything we’ve been through, we earned a fresh start.”

“And what if this fresh start is killing me?” He laughed, a horrible, dry laugh from the depths of his chest. His body rattles against your hands. 

Your breath stutters. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do.” He admitted, the air around you two changing. Your hands slipped from his, still sitting back on your knees in front of him. He still barely looked at you, content to stare at the wood grain on the table. Committing the pattern to memory. 

“So what, you want to move home?” You asked, the walls still smelled like fresh paint. The cardboard boxes you two procrastinated on throwing out lingered in the guest room. There hadn’t been enough time to make it home, the training wheels were still on. 

“We can..” You sighed, rubbing your face. “We can maybe sublet the lease until it’s over. I don’t know. We have to see if there are even any places for us to rent back home.” 

He turned in his seat, his eyes finally meeting yours. You could see his heart breaking on his face, and you knew. Something bone-chilling washed over you, nearly forcing your body flat on the floor. 

“You don’t mean us, do you?” You managed out, tears already welling in your eyes. 

His head shook, moving towards you. Joining you, knees aching on the floor you once rolled around in joy on. 

“I love you,” he says, voice breaking. “I promise I do. This isn’t me walking away because I stopped loving you.” His hands gripped yours for a second before you yanked them away. 

“Then don’t do this. If you love me, don’t leave me.” You sobbed, “If you loved me, you’d stay, or let me come with. I don’t care where we are; I want you. It’s all I’ve ever wanted.” 

He reached for you again, his touch burning your skin. 

“I have to,” he whispers. “Because I can feel myself holding you back. You deserve the chance to love this city the way you’ve always wanted to. I don’t belong here. I know I don’t. But you do. I’m not cut out for this life. Not this place, not this constant fight to prove I’m worth something. But you are. You shine here. And if I stay, all I’ll do is make you smaller so I don’t feel so lost.”

“So you go back alone,” you said, incredulous. “Back to the same streets, the same expectations from your father, the same ghosts?”

He gestured helplessly at the room, at the life you’d hauled here with too much hope and not enough certainty. “Better that than I stay here, pretending I belong.” 

“You’re really going to throw this away?” You asked, tears streaming down your neck. “You’re going to throw away all the years between us because you won’t give it a few more weeks?” 

“I can’t give you the life you deserve here.” 

Your chest aches. “I don’t want this without you.” His thumb rubbed over the ring on your finger, a choked sob escaping your chest. You remembered the day he proposed, the reminder of the happiest day of your life turning bittersweet in a matter of minutes. 

“I know,” he says, his own tears falling freely now. “And that’s why I have to let you go before I turn into something you resent.”

You sniffled, “If you walk out of that door, Steve Harrington, I will resent you. I’ll never forgive you for giving up on us, for walking out like a coward.” 

He flinched at your words, understanding he deserved it. “Don’t think I’m giving up on us for nothing, I’m doing this for you.”

Then his hand falls, the space between you unbearable, a chasm building between the two of you. 

“No,” You shook your head, a laugh tearing out of you like a mad woman. “You’re doing it because you’re scared. You let your father’s words get in your head, now you’re letting them ruin your life.” 

“You don’t understand, and that’s okay.” He gave you a weak smile, standing up slowly. “But I love you. More than I’ve ever loved anyone before.” 

“Bullshit.” You sprang to your feet, pushing his chest. He didn’t move, just stood there taking whatever you’d give him. “You can’t say you love me while you’re actively leaving me. You just don’t wanna marry me anymore? A few rough months and you’re tapping out? That’s not how the real world works.” 

“You’re not listening to me,” He seethed, “I am miserable here! I miss my friends; I am alone here with no one but you. If I go home, I have a job with my dad, and you can still live out your dreams.” 

“My dreams mean nothing if you’re not here.” You yelled, pushing him roughly again. His hands come out to grip your wrists. “You’re not even fighting for us. You’ve given up.” 

The realization hit you like a freight train, stumbling on your feet. “You’ve given up.” 

“Y/n..” 

“Out.” You sobbed, taking a shaky step back. “You want to leave so bad? Get the fuck out. Run back home to the people who thought you couldn’t do it. Prove them right. End up just like your fucking father. If you want to live and die in that town, don’t let me stop you.” 

He knew rationally your words were just your heart breaking, and it tore him apart knowing he was the one doing it. You’d move on, he knew you would eventually. He just wanted you to have the life here you deserved, the one you’d keep him up all night daydreaming about. It just wasn’t going to be with him. So he resigned and walked into the room, grabbing his bags. All you could do was stand there, shell-shocked. Tears streaming down your cheeks. You ignored his goodbyes, waited until the door locked behind him to throw yourself on the floor. Screaming until your voice went hoarse. The next morning, you called Robin, begging her to tell you where he was. She said it was best she remove herself from this, wishing you well. All it took was one conversation, one bad night, and your entire life had crumbled right before your eyes. 

Now, as you stood there lost in the memory, you snapped back, hearing her voice on the other end of the line. 

“Hello.” She asked, making you blink. 

“Hi?” 

“Y/n,” Her voice rang out, too cheery. “It’s good to hear your voice. I’m glad you’re home.” 

It was awkward, a painful awkwardness that sat in the middle of your chest. Your best friend, the girl you used to tell everything, was now someone you could barely have a normal conversation with. 

“Yeah, you too.” You mumbled, squeezing your eyes shut. “I’m not trying to be mean, but did you need something?” 

She paused for a moment, “Uh, yeah. I just wanted to invite you to our Christmas party tomorrow. It wouldn’t be the same without you. We miss you.” 

The honesty in her voice made your heart ache, but you couldn’t. “I don’t think that’s a great idea, Robin-” 

“Steve said it’s fine.” She yelled, and you could hear mumblings in the background. “You don’t have to stay for long, just get some food. The kids really miss you, and so do I, Y/n. We miss our friend.” 

You sighed, running your hand through your hair. “I don’t know.” 

“Just, Steve’s house tomorrow at 7. Don’t worry about bringing anything. If you don’t come, that’s fine too, just…. Think about it.” 

“Okay.” You said, before hanging up the phone. Your forehead banging the wall harshly. 

The next 24 hours were spent pacing around your childhood bedroom, nearly burning a hole in the carpet. You could go and be social, see your friends. Fill the gap in your heart that formed the moment you last heard from them. If they hated you, they wouldn’t have invited you. Robin didn’t have a cruel bone in her body. But if you did go and walk into the Harrington household again, you weren’t sure if your heart could take it. It was naive to believe you could come here and not have a run-in with the man, but you didn’t prepare yourself enough for this.

On one of your last paces, you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. The same mirror you got ready in for your first date with Steve, which felt like a lifetime ago. The mirror you cleaned both of your bloody faces in after the Starcourt Mall fiasco. You let yourself linger on your appearance, no longer recognizing the girl who stared back at you. 

“Fuck it.” You grumbled, your voice echoing throughout the empty room. You plopped down, dragging over your makeup bag. You would go, but you wouldn’t be happy about it. Your hands shook the whole time, nearly covering your chin in lipstick. They continued shaking as you drove to the store, picking out the most expensive bottle of wine the Hawkin’s supermarket had. The feeling only got worse when you pulled into the driveway. A black cloud dangling above your head.

The Harrington house was always extravagant, but dull. Lifeless in the way his parents decorated, only brought to life by the love Steve himself made. Today, it looked the opposite of that, with lights lazily strung up on the porch. The soft, warm glow of a Christmas tree peeking in through the front window. You thought back to your own home, where the tree sat untouched in a box in the spare room. What good was decorating if no one was around to see it but you? 

You weren’t willing to admit it to anyone, but Chicago was lonely. Steve had it all wrong those months ago; you were only thriving because he was there with you. You were so focused on providing a future for you two that you let him slip through the cracks. The city was big, big enough to hide your sorrows. But what was the point if the city didn’t care if you were there? You hated that he was right, you hated that things happened the way that they did. 

Once you had had enough of licking your own wounds, you tumbled out of the car. The wind was biting, soft snow still falling. You made a point not to look at Steve’s car on the way up the drive; you knew that BMW like the back of your hand. No point in ripping off another bandage. When you were face-to-face with the door, you clutched the wine like a lifeline, telling yourself you still had time to run. No one would even know you were here if you spun your tires fast enough. 

All of your daydreaming of running away vanished when the door swung open, your hand still up, going to knock on the wooden door. “Y/n?” Max spoke, her eyes wide.

Maybe you should have called, maybe you should have told Robin you were coming. Maybe Robin lied, maybe she didn’t tell anyone you were invited. Maybe you weren’t invited, and Robin was meddling again. 

All these fears vanished when Max basically leaped into your arms, wrapping them around your body tightly. You smiled in a way you haven’t in months, cheeks aching from the foreign movement. 

“Max.” You breathed out, squeezing the redhead back with just as much vigor. 

“Holy shit,” She laughed, her face still smushed in your trench coat, “I didn’t think you’d come. I missed you.” 

“I missed you more, kiddo.” The wine bottle nearly fell from your hand when she pulled back. You kept your gaze on her; she had grown so much since the last time you saw her. “God, you’re like a proper adult now, huh?” 

She rolled her eyes, taking the wine from your hand gently, “Not old enough to legally drink yet, but Steve said we can get a glass at dinner if we don’t break anything.” 

For the first time in months, you didn’t flinch at the mention of his name, too overwhelmed with emotion to even care. “That sounds like him.” 

You stepped forward, wrapping your arms around her once more, kissing the top of her head. “I’m so sorry.” It was a quiet admission, one for her only. When everything happened, Max quickly grew to be the little sister you never had. It wasn’t fair for you not to reach out as much, but she was in college now. She had a life outside of Hawkins, just like you; she understood more than most. 

“Don’t do that.” She shook her head, “All that matters is that you’re here now.” 

You opened your mouth to speak, only to get cut off by a loud squeal of your name. Your head shot up, peering into the house. Within seconds, a hurricane of overgrown teenagers were barreling towards the door. Dustin’s mop of curls was the first to appear out of the doorway, nearly pushing Max aside as he leaped into your arms. 

“Jesus assholes!” Max barked, the boys ignoring her as they crowded around you. 

Lucas flanked your side, Mike towering over the group, El behind him, while Dustin was squeezing the life out of you. 

“You smell good,” Dustin mumbled, making you roll your eyes. 

“Thank god you’re here,” Lucas breathed out, “Max has been nonstop talking about you-” He was cut off, no doubt, by a smack from the woman herself. 

Mike was rambling on about needing to ask you questions about school, something about wanting to intern at your job. 

El had snuck up, her hands tugging at the ends of your hair. “You cut it?” She had a soft frown. 

“I think it looks good!” Will spoke up, his arms wrapping around your side. 

You were lost in a fit of giggles, doing your best to keep up with all the overlapping voices. 

“Jesus, don’t overwhelm her!” Robin had now joined the party on the porch, her hands on her hips. That didn’t stop the kids from talking over each other; they eventually backed off a hair. Giving you time to hug each of them individually. 

“Seriously, you smell really good, you look like some rich lawyer.” Dustin rambled, making Mike smack him upside the head. 

“Jesus, you’re flirting with her?” He scoffed, “She works in publishing, by the way. Which is why I need to talk to her-” 

“I’m not flirting, dude, that would be against bro code-” 

You ignored them, wrapping your arms around El, almost picking her up off her feet. “Oh my sweet girl.” 

“Y/n, I only spied on you a few times.” She smiled, making you sputter out laughter. 

“Jesus, okay. You’re lucky I love you, or I’d have a stern talking to you about boundaries.” You shook your head, the smile hurting your cheeks now. 

“Don’t worry, it was only because we were worried. Steve never knew.” Will spoke up, making you wrap your arm around the younger boy. 

“Sorry, I worried you guys, really.” You spoke, looking around all of them. Letting your eyes land on Robin. Her hair was longer, and she seemed more sure of herself. More carefree than you remember her. 

As if sensing the long-awaited reunion, they slowly shuffled back into the house. Leaving you and Robin alone for a moment. 

“Robs.” You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. 

“Y/n.” She smiled, tears welling up in her eyes. You weren’t sure who ran to whom first, but the next thing you knew, the two of you were in each other’s arms. Squeezing so tight you could barely breathe, your head was in her neck. Willing the tears not to slip out of your lash line. 

“I missed you.” You choked out, her hand gripping the back of your coat like you’d vanish if she let go. 

“Missed you more.” She sobbed, her back shaking. “God, I have so much to tell you. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I picked a side. I promised I’d never do that, but I did anyway. Then I waited too long, and I figured you hated me-” 

“I figured you hated me.” A throaty laugh left your chest. Eyes thick with unshed tears.

She shook her head, pulling her head back to get a look at you. “I could never hate you. You’re my best friend. I’ll admit I haven’t been the best one lately, but if you’ll still have me…” 

“Robin Buckley…” You sighed, a toothy grin on your face. “I’ll have you. You’re never getting rid of me. Not really.” 

“I do hate to cut this reunion short, but I’m freezing my ass off out here.” She said, making you throw your head back in a giggle. She looped her arms with yours, pulling you into the warm house. She helped you hang your coat up, giving the same one over everyone had. 

“Dustin was right, you do look like a hot lawyer.” She whistled, making you roll your eyes. 

“Please,” You scoffed, “Look at you? I know the girls at Smith are just dying for a piece of you.” 

“Well doesn’t matter if they are; Vickie and I are finally going steady.” She grinned, you smacking her shoulder. 

“Oh my god? Robin, that’s so awesome.” 

“I’ll introduce you when I find her. I think she’s helping in the kitchen. Or in the cellar? I don’t know she’s been nervously running around preparing for today.”

You nodded, awkwardly following behind her into the living room. Nothing had changed in the house, but everything did at the same time. It was evident his parents hadn't been here in a while; it felt lived in. Warm and inviting, a stark contrast to how it was years ago. 

Max caught your eye in the kitchen, putting the wine bottle you brought in the ice bucket. You spotted Steve behind her, with his back turned. You darted your eyes away, walking over to the couch where the party was draped over it. A video game console was plugged in, abandoned as they chatted amongst each other. You could only avoid him for so long, but you were going to prolong the inevitable as much as you could. 

“So,” You started, plopping on the couch between Lucas and Will. “Tell me what I’ve missed.” 

And missed a lot you had. You listened intently as they all told you about their freshman year in school, thankful for the break. Dustin was already a semester ahead at Princeton, go figure. Will and Jonathan had settled down in NYC. Jonathan, you learned, was not visiting until Christmas Day. Too many obligations and not enough time to travel. But his mom and Hopper would be here tomorrow to begin more holiday festivities. 

Lucas and Max had just signed a lease on an apartment near Indiana State. Lucas made the basketball team, already gaining traction with recruiters. Mike was a year behind, letting El catch up with her schooling before they went to school near Montauk. Keeping Hopper and Joyce close. In the meantime, he picked up a passion for writing, no doubt why he was asking for pointers on publishing. 

“I barely finished my degree, Wheeler.” You admitted, doing school while the world was ending wasn’t ideal, but you made it work. Fresh out of college into the real world, you were still finding your bearings. “But I do have some work friends, I can get some numbers.” 

He seemed content with the answer, slinging his arm over your shoulder in a hug once more. It was then that the inevitable happened: Steve Harrington finally sauntered out of the kitchen. His eyes found yours in almost an instant, the room going still. 

He looked panicked, his footfalls freezing. You were sure you looked the same, frozen in shock. Your hands fumbling around with your bracelets, something to occupy your shaky hands. Nearly everyone looked away, glancing at each other with nervous eyes. Unwilling to watch the trainwreck unfold. Steve took the first step, his hand coming up in an awkward wave. 

“H-hey! Glad you could make it.” He stuttered out, nearly stumbling into the back of the couch. “Thanks for the wine. Do you want a glass?” He spoke too loudly, making Robin wince from behind him. It reminded her of his Scoops Ahoy days, talking too loudly when he was nervous. You stood up on shaky legs, the blood rushing to your head nearly making you dizzy. 

“Yeah, I can get it though-” 

“No!” He yelled, before running his hands through his hair, “No, I mean. You’re the guest. I can get it.” He was nervous, but in a way that had a pit forming in your stomach. 

“It’s okay.” You spoke softly, a tone that used to be reserved for just him. “I’ll get me and Robin a glass. You can’t uncork it right anyway.” 

Your words triggered a memory for both of you, one of you catching Steve shoving kitchen scissors into a half-broken cork, in an attempt to pour you a glass for dinner. He ended up pushing it further into the bottle. By the time you got it out, small pieces were floating around in your glass. You drank it anyway, straining out the small pieces with a grin on your face. Except this time, instead of the memory making you laugh, it made your heart stutter. 

“Y-yeah.” He grumbled, watching you walk past him with an awkward grin. The moment you set foot into the kitchen, you were taken aback by none other than Nancy Wheeler. She was standing against the stove, stirring a pot. 

“Hey?” You spoke, which sounded more like a question. 

She jumped, startled by your presence. “Oh, Y/n. Hi.” She gave you a wave, her eyes wide. You and Nancy were never particularly close; you weren’t the biggest fan of how she treated Steve in high school, but you had a lot of respect for the woman. You always considered her a good friend, but something about her standing in Steve’s kitchen made you regret ever coming tonight. 

“Nancy. How have you been?” You smiled, grabbing two wine glasses out of the cupboard, muscle memory taking over. But the cabinets had been moved around, you squinted. Before you could lean your head back to ask, Nancy was pointing at the cabinet next to it. 

“Wine glasses are in that one,” She spoke absentmindedly, unaware of your spiraling thoughts. “And I’ve been good! Boston is… nice.” 

You smacked your lips against your teeth, pulling out two glasses. Grabbing the corkscrew from the drawer. “That’s nice!” Your voice was a little too cheery when you uncorked the bottle, pouring yourself a larger glass than you needed. 

“How’s Chicago?” She asked, moving to check whatever bird was roasting in the oven. It was clear she wasn’t interested in awkward small talk, but you appreciated her attempt at it nonetheless. 

“Cold.” You gulped your glass, filling it up before setting it back in the ice. “Loud.” 

“Yeah,” She laughed, “Sometimes you forget how nice the quiet is until you’re back home. You really can get lost in the city life.” 

“Yeah.” You smiled at her, asking her if she would like a glass. She declined, but thanked you anyway. “Well, it’s been so good to see you.” 

Thankfully, you found Robin, shoving the wine into her hands. “Think Nancy Wheeler hates me?” You asked quietly, Robin’s demeanor going taut. 

She shook her head, taking a drink from her glass. That was all the answer you got from her before she pulled you back into the crowd. You mingled about, still not having caught a chance to meet Vickie. When Robin ran off to find her, you clung to Max’s side like following the light in the dark. You weren’t going to let her slip out of your life again; you weren’t going to let any of them. It was easy to avoid Steve, as he seemed content to step awkwardly around you most of the night. 

The tension was unspoken, but everyone felt it. It hangs heavy, just like the mistletoe in the bedroom hallway that mocked you each time someone came out of the bathroom. Memories of the two of you haunted every corner of this town, but this was the epicenter. The home that the two of you shared for months, the party that called you their parents. The house that would be yours the moment his parents decided to finally buy their beach house in Florida.

Maybe this would be easier if you pretended Steve hadn’t branded every part of your body. The tan line from the diamond that sat on your finger for almost a year wouldn’t fade, no matter how much you scrubbed. You both spent too much time in the sun last summer, lounging around the lakeside for days on end. Your hair, he loved, had been cut off, your hairstylist swearing hair held memories. With each snip, you willed Steve to leave your mind, but you instead just found yourself missing the parts of yourself he held in his hands. No matter how many times you changed your style or willed yourself to be anyone else. At the end of the day, you were always going to be his. There was a part of you that would never belong to yourself again. 

You turned to your left, and the redhead whom you thought was Max was now replaced by Vickie. The infamous girlfriend who had been running around all night, missing Robin at every turn. You smiled politely, “Vickie, right? Robin’s been looking for you.” 

She smiled widely, teeth showing at the mere mention of her girlfriend. “Yes! I was helping with the chicken, then the stuffing, then I had to go in the cellar for wine, but it’s so dark down there, and I’ve just been running around everywhere.” She was out of breath, nervousness rolling off of her. You could see now in startling clarity just how alike she and Robin were. 

“No, it’s okay. I’m fully convinced that the cellar is haunted.” You laughed, making her nod quickly. 

“Literally! Also, I’m not used to rich people, because why do you need a cellar full of wine in your house? It’s beyond me.” She whispered the first part, making another laugh slip through your lips. That laugh was cut short when your eyes glanced into the kitchen yet again. This time, catching Steve towering over Nancy. His body was nearly caging hers against the counter, his hand steady on the cabinet above her head. It was clear he meant to grab something out of it, but the two of them paused. Caught in the moment. Now you were caught in it too, staring like a fish out of water. 

It felt like you were intruding on an intimate moment, the way his eyes gazed down at her. Flicking back from her lips to her eyes. She did the same; it was buzzy. Even from far away, the tension between them radiated around the room, hitting you right in the chest. 

“I heard him and Nancy have been close ever since she came back,” Vickie smiled widely, somehow completely oblivious as to who you were. But she caught you staring quickly. It wasn’t her fault; you hadn’t been here when they started dating. Just through the tail end of Robin’s pining.  “He moved back home after he broke off his engagement. Real hallmark, you know? Holiday rekindling of old flames that never quite snuffed out, it’s sooooo romantic. Kinda like me and Robin if you think about it. High school lovers-” 

Her words made the wine you drank nearly come back up your throat, your eyes still locked on the pair. Tuning out her rambling, you let yourself look at him this time, really look. Steve looked the same, his hair a little longer. Undeniably, there was a spark lit back within him, one you had missed. A wide smile on Nancy’s face as they talked, his head leaned down to hear her better. If he moved down any closer, their lips would be touching. The sheer thought of you having to witness that made you look away, swallowing down bile that had risen. 

You supposed it’d make sense for him to move on; it had been months. Nothing was stopping either of you, but something about seeing it. About it being with Nancy, out of everyone. The same girl you’d compare yourself to late at night, the girl Steve swore he’d moved on from. It felt like someone had grabbed a knife and split your chest open. 

“Yeah, sure.” You managed, catching Robin’s eye as she walked over. She paused midwalk, staring from Vickie to you, back to Steve and Nancy across the way. 

“Oh fuck.” She said a little too loudly, all heads looking towards you all. Steve’s head pops up immediately, his eyes meeting yours. You knew this was a bad idea, a horrible, terribly bad idea. His body moved away from Nancy’s on instinct, but it was too late. Not like it mattered, not like anything mattered anymore. 

“Oh my god. You’re Y/n, aren’t you?” Vickie gasped, her hand coming up to grab your shoulder. “I’m so sorry. This is so not how I wanted to meet you, Robin told me to be on my best behavior-”

You cut her off with a wave, “It’s fine. It was really nice to meet you.” You gave her a practiced smile, stepping away from the wide-eyed ginger. “I’m just gonna go to the bathroom.”  

Your heels clacked against the floor loudly in the now quiet room, excusing yourself. You chugged down the rest of your glass, setting it on the table before stumbling into the bathroom. Your hand clenching your chest, searching for an open wound that wasn’t physically there. 

You leaned against the door, nearly falling to your knees in anguish. It felt childish; you had no claim over him anymore. Time had stretched a chasm between the two of you. But why did it feel like you were being split in two? 

You gathered your bearings, letting your hands grip the sides of the sink. Staring back at your reflection in the mirror. “Get over yourself, Y/n.” You all but slapped your own cheeks, psyching yourself up. “It’s fine. Have dinner, then leave. Have Christmas, then go home. You can just leave.” 

Within your own psychotic mumblings to yourself, you realized you weren’t any better than Steve, willing yourself to run away the moment things got complicated. 

Outside, back in the living room, the tension wasn’t any better. Vickie’s mouth was agape, Robin stumbling to her quickly. Steve was still frozen in place, eyes locked on where you had run to. Nancy simply crossed her arms, shrinking herself into the corner. 

“What was that?” Dustin broke the silence, watching Steve slowly regain control of his limbs again. 

“Vickie, honey sweetie baby. What did you say?” Robin’s voice was shaky, while Vickie continued stuttering out apologies. 

“Um. I just said- I don’t know.” She cried out, “I was just speaking. You know me. I just ramble sometimes, and she was looking at them, so I blurted out something-” 

“What did you say exactly?” Steve spoke up, Nancy closing her eyes. 

“Uh. I said something along the lines of ‘Wow, aren’t Steve and Nancy so cute? He left his fiancée and is back home with his ex. Like a bad Hallmark movie p-plot.” 

As soon as the words left her mouth, everyone in the room winced, “Vickie, sweetheart. Why would you say that?” Robin’s eyes closed. 

“I don’t know,” Tears were in the nervous girl's eyes, “I’m so sorry. It’s not my business. I shouldn’t have said anything.” 

“Yeah, it’s not.” Steve barked, a little too cruelly for Robin’s liking. 

“Hey, it was an accident.” She glared at her best friend, “Don’t blame her for misspeaking when you don’t even know what’s going on in your own life.”

Steve’s face fell, hating his business on display like this. 

“Wait,” Mike raised his hand, much like a child asking a question in class. “Are you and Nancy back together?” 

“No.” Steve and Nancy both scoffed in unison, the girl still trying to hide herself in the kitchen. 

“You guys have just been weirdly close,” he muttered, throwing his hands up in defense. 

“Okay, can everyone please get out of my business. Jeez.” Steve said, finally, holding his hands up. “Vickie, I’m sorry. Don’t feel bad. Besides, it doesn’t matter. We’re all adults here.” 

“Barely.” You spoke up, your voice making all of them jump. In the midst of the chaos, they didn’t even notice you slinking your way out of the bathroom. Posture upright, as if nothing had bothered you. A part of Steve hated how unbothered you looked, your lack of emotion sat heavily on his mind. 

“W-what?” He stuttered, looking at you. 

“You guys are barely adults.” You laughed, it was hollow. It didn’t quite reach your eyes, but no one noticed except for him anyway. “Jeez, who died?” 

“No one!” Nancy spoke up, opening the oven a little faster than she needed to. “Chicken’s done, can you guys set the table?”  

There was a mad dash around the room, everyone wanting to find something to occupy themselves. You found Vickie, wrapping your arms around the still trembling girl, promising her everything was okay. As soon as she steadied her breathing, Robin brought the two of you fresh glasses. You found a spot at the table between the couple and Max. You felt old helping Max pour herself a glass of wine. 

“You kids grow up fast.” You grumbled, sliding over the full glass to her. “Let me guess, everyone else wants one too?” 

A chorus of ‘yes mom’s’ made you chuckle, a flashback to just a year ago getting called mom at this same table. The bottle was emptied on Dustin’s glass, to which he gave you a playful wink, making your eyes roll. 

“How many girls are you wooing back at Princeton with that charm, huh?” You teased, sitting back down in your chair. 

“Oh, the ladies love me. I’m irresistible.” He purred, making the others groan playfully at him while sides got passed around. Everyone loaded up their plates, eating amongst quiet conversation. 

“God, Y/n, do you remember Tommy and Carol?” Robin asked, in between bites of a roll. 

You scoffed, “Unfortunately.” 

“They’re getting married. Steve got the invite last week. Twenty bucks says it’s a shotgun wedding.” She laughed. 

“Wait, what?” You gasped, “I didn’t even know they were back together?” 

“Yup, Tommy proposed on the football field,” Steve added, slowly joining in the conversation. “Think he’s trying to be a good person.” 

Robin just cringed, “Proposing on your high school football field to the girlfriend you consistently cheat on?”

“I hate the guy, but at least he’s trying.” Nancy shrugged, not meeting anyone's eyes. 

“But that’s total loser behavior.” Max joined in, “If Lucas proposed to me on the basketball court, I think I’d break his ankles so he could never play again.” 

Lucas just sighed, “And that’s why I love you so much.” 

“I think my dad did a good job proposing to Miss Joyce,” El spoke up with a smile. You remember hearing the news of that, tears prickling in your eyes as Joyce recounted the date he had set up. 

“Honestly, that was probably the best proposal to ever happen. Hard to top that.” You raised your glass. While it was honest, a simple nod to the two older parental figures in your life. It didn’t sit right with Steve, the words on the tip of his tongue. 

“I think my proposal was pretty good.” He grumbled into his plate, staring intently at the piece of chicken on his fork. 

How many times tonight were his words going to pause the room around him? An awkward silence fell once again, the tension rising from the floorboards. One you couldn’t blame on the haunted cellar below your feet. You downed yet another glass of wine. When the clink of the glass hit the table, you realized you shouldn’t have spoken, shouldn't have had that last glass. 

And El. Poor innocent sweet El Hopper just kept speaking, “How did you propose?” 

You forgot she wasn’t there, still being hidden away by Hopper in the Cabin during all the endless crawls. Murray had apparently spent weeks searching for the exact ring Steve wanted for you. Smuggling it inside an unsealed peanut butter bopper. The ring smelled like peanut butter for days after he slid it on your finger. It fit like a glove. You still felt empty without it, your hand subconsciously going to twirl the delicate band that was no longer there. 

Steve’s mouth fell open, his eyes darting to yours. You saved him from the awkward stumbling, giving her the softest smile you could muster. “It was sweet. He took me on a picnic to where we had our first date. Had candles. Robin made us a cake.” 

You tried not to let it show just how badly the memories hurt, instead smiling fondly at the table. There was no attempt at hiding your history together here; it bled into every memory. Being together with someone for years will do that to you; your lives are so interconnected that sometimes it is still hard to remember where he ends, and you begin. 

“I spilled wine all over her dress, and a bird ate the sandwiches I made while I was proposing.” Steve added, “It was a mess.” 

“It was perfect.” You shrugged, leaning over to grab another roll from the bowl. “So Mike, when are you proposing?” 

His eyes widen, and he stutters out a pathetic response. Max and El are giggling wildly at each other. Steve hated how well you were at changing the topic, deflecting the attention off of you two so smoothly. Hated how well the two of you worked in unison, in everything you did.

Dinner continued without another awkwardly timed comment, plates clattered as everyone took turns helping clean up. Dessert was cookies Vickie had made, the kids no doubt getting crumbles all over Steve’s overpriced couch. An hour of goodbyes later and the teenagers had scrambled back to their homes. Nancy left with Mike, giving you an awkward one-armed hug. You had all promised to see each other again before the break ended. Whispers of a New Year's Party, but nothing concrete. 

All while Steve’s gaze was burning into your back, watching your every move. It made your collar slick with sweat, your hands trembling with bundles of emotions. You needed air and a cigarette. Your effort to sneak out was thwarted by none other than Robin. 

“Leaving without a goodbye, Y/l/n?” Robin caught you, your hand still on the doorknob. 

“I know better than to Irish exit with you people, I’m just getting some air.” You promised her, two fingers came up to her eyes, pointing them back at you, signaling she was watching. You laughed on your way out, letting the cool air chill your skin. 

You walked out to his garage, leaning under the awning. To get away from the porch and prying eyes in the windows. You let your hands shake freely, dropping the nonchalant facade you held up for the past few hours. Letting that sickly sour feeling wash over you again. It was jealousy, anger, sadness, and something else you couldn’t quite place all wrapped around you at once. It was drowning in your own feelings, begging for one drop of air.

“So, about what you heard in there. With Nancy.” That was all he said, the back of your eyes prickling. You didn’t even hear him step outside, let alone stand beside you. You told yourself the tears were just from the cold air, but you knew better. 

“If I wanted to know, I would have asked.” You shrugged, “None of my business anyway, is it?” 

“It’s not what it looks like.” He pleaded.

All you could do was laugh, rummaging around in your purse for your cigarettes. A habit you picked back up again, the day after he left. You shoved the filter between your red painted lips, lighting it with ease. All while he stood and watched, eyebrows furrowed. 

“So it doesn’t look like you dumped me to come back home and fuck your high school ex?” You couldn’t help but let the words slip off your tongue. There it was, the anger of yours he had become familiar with. He knew it was there, boiling just under the surface. 

He sighed, “Nancy is still with Jonathan, you know. We’re just… friends.” 

“You seem real sure of that.” You scoffed, letting the smoke wrap around you like a security blanket. “Besides, doesn’t matter, does it? You’re single. You can do whatever you want.” 

He deflated, letting his hand rest on the porch. “Yeah. Guess so.” 

The silence was deafening, the snow still flurrying around the two of you. He couldn’t keep his eyes off you. In just the past few months, you’ve changed so much. Your hair was shorter, and your eye bags were evident. A hallowness was deep inside you, and the light drained from your eyes. And it was all his fault; he knew that. He watched your hand flick the cigarette, the absence of the gleaming diamond on your finger making his breathing stop. 

It didn’t even occur to him until now that this was the first time he’d seen you since he left. You were on his mind so often that it was as if he conjured up a new image of you every time his eyes opened in the morning. 

The guilt pressed down on his chest, thick and suffocating, and the silence between you stretched too long. Long enough for old wounds to start itching. Long enough for that anger to claw its way up your throat, hot and familiar. You’d learned how to survive by holding onto it, how to use it to pull yourself out of the days where feeling nothing felt worse.

“I wish you’d just tell me what you were really thinking.” He spoke up, his eyes drilling holes into the side of your face. 

You held onto tighter to the anger, the feeling comfortable in your hands. You’d rather feel angry than nothing else at all. So the insults began to slip out. If he was going to walk away and leave you again, you were going to make sure it was on your terms this time.

“Okay, do you really wanna know Mr. Peaked in high school?” You could barely believe the cruelty in your voice when you spat out the words, “I think you couldn’t make it in the big city. So to fuel your ego, you had to go home to our piss ant hometown and try to fuck your high school ex-girlfriend, right? Right back where you were in High School. Welcome back, King Steve!” 

He stuttered back a few steps, recovering quickly from the whiplash. 

“At least I’m not pretending to be happy. How is it up there on your high-horse? Because after this week, you’re going back to that lonely apartment.” He cackled, “Doesn’t matter how much money you make, how nice your clothes are, how much your snotty co-workers like you. You’re all alone out there. And I’ll be here, with my friends.” 

The emphasis of my didn’t get lost on you. You suppose he was right; they were his friends first before you ever joined them. His words pierced your heart, nearly knocking you off balance. You thought this was it, but oh, he wasn’t done.

“You can’t make the pain go away by treating me like a villain, Y/n.” He said, his voice softening. “I hurt you. I know I did, and I’m so sorry. I was only doing what I thought was right, for both of us. I was drowning.” His voice cracked on the word. Both of your resolves are crumbling around your feet like drywall. 

“We were supposed to drown together.” You snapped, “When you got down on one knee and put that ring on my finger, it was a promise. A promise to love each other through all the hard times, and you couldn’t even try. You just gave up on us. On me.” Your bottom lip wavered, staring down the man you loved more than life itself. 

“I was doing what I thought was right-” 

“Spare me the fucking bullshit.” You waved him off, “You could’ve sat me down. We could have talked it out like adults; instead, you ran home with your tail between your legs. Letting everyone feel bad for the boy whose fiancée left him in the dust-” 

“You don’t know anything.” He laughed dryly, his hands running feverishly through his hair. “When I came home, did you know the first thing everyone said to me? Everyone. Robin, the kids, my parents?” 

You stayed quiet, watching his chest heave. “They all said, “How did you ruin the best thing you’ve ever had?” He scoffed. 

“You left! That’s how!” 

“Remember that you let me leave.”

“What was I supposed to do, Steve?” You were in hysterics now, “Was me on my knees, begging and crying, not enough?” 

“You let me leave Y/n.” He repeated, “You changed your number, you stopped talking to everyone. The only thing left for me to do was to drive up there, but I knew you wouldn’t wanna see me.” 

“If you loved me, you would've.” You sighed, running your hands over your face. You were sick of the arguing, of the back and forth. 

“You could’ve visited too! You ghosted everyone. You didn’t just hurt me with the radio silence. You broke Max’s heart-” 

You stepped closer, pressing your finger harshly into his chest. “Leave them out of it.”

“You can’t even be honest with yourself.” He chuckled dryly. Watching you huff down the remnants of the cigarette that now stunk up his clothes. 

“You don’t know me.” 

“I think I know you better than you know yourself sometimes.” 

“My life is different now.” You let out a breath, stomping the cigarette butt underneath your boot. “Don’t pretend you know how I’m doing. Who I’m with. Because you don’t. You don’t know anything about me.” 

You knew what your words were implying when you said them, refusing to correct yourself. You wanted to see the hurt flash in his eyes, the same way yours did, seeing him and Nancy in the kitchen. But when the flash came, you couldn’t feel anything but guilt. Something shifted in those brown eyes of his; what started as hurt faded into something darker. 

“Is there someone else?” His eyes were ablaze, a darkness in them you hadn’t seen before. You stayed quiet, looking up at him through your lashes. Unable to speak, the closer he got with each step. “Tell me, is there someone else?” 

“And if there was?” You challenged, tilting your head at him. 

“Answer me.” He demanded softly, still walking towards you like a predator stalking prey. You took a step back, eyes never leaving his until your back from pressing his snow-covered car. He was inches away, still waiting for your answer. 

“It’s none of your business.” 

“Then why even mention it?” He chuckled darkly, his leg slotting in between yours. You were pushed further back into the car, his body now on yours. Nothing could change the chemistry between you two, not time. God himself couldn’t change the way your bodies drifted towards each other. You were the compass, and he was your true north. You’d always find yourself back here. On your way to him, in this town.

“Does it bother you?” You met his darkened eyes, “Thinking of someone else taking what you left behind?” 

“Don’t pretend-”

“Hey-oh whoa.” Robin’s voice broke you two out of your trance. The two of you were springing apart like there was a fire. Vickie’s hand was in hers, both clad in their coats, ready to leave. “Sorry. The snow is really coming down; we wanted to get back before it got any heavier.” 

Steve cleared his throat, leaning awkwardly against the hood of the car. “Yeah, course.” 

You walked forward, wrapping your arms around the two girls. Bidding them farewell, promising to see them soon. Robin left with a suggestive look towards you, making you flush. You watched her car roll down the road, feeling Steve’s eyes on your back. You don’t know how long you stood there, snow pelting your skin, before he spoke up. 

“At least get out of the snow, Y/n.” You turned back, stepping back onto his porch. 

“I should probably leave.” 

He didn’t say anything, simply walked ahead of you, opening his door. You looked around for your coat, scrambling around. Before you could get your second arm in your sleeve, he broke you out of your rushing trance. 

“Does he make you feel like I did?” 

You paused, letting the coat fall to the floor. “What?” 

He looked pathetic, his inhibitions falling when it was just you he was standing in front of. “Does he make you feel even a fraction of what I made you feel?” 

It took you a second to remember the way you avoided his question, letting him believe a false narrative he made up in his own head. It made every nerve in your body set ablaze, the idea of him being jealous. You let yourself fall into the feeling. 

“Does Nancy make you feel a fraction of what I made you feel?” You barked back, the tension rising. The two of you were playing with fire now, poking the bear just to see what would happen. This was foreplay, and after months of longing, the two of you were coiled tight. 

“So you are jealous,” He grinned devilishly at you. 

“You’re one to talk. You’re the one who pinned me to your car, ready to take me right there.” 

All he did was stalk closer, “And you liked it, didn’t you?” 

You were quiet, letting the air around you thicken. Yes, you liked it. It’s the first thing that got your blood pumping in months, a heat grew between your legs. A long-neglected aspect of your life you hadn’t thought of much until now.

“Yeah, you did.” He said cockily, watching your pupils go wide. Much like his. He knew your bedroom eyes well; he knew you were soaked underneath that satin skirt you had on.

“So what?” Your mouth was dry, meeting him halfway. The two of you are standing in front of the couch. 

“Did you miss me? Miss my cock?” His words made goosebumps rise on your skin. You forgot just how filthy his mouth was.  You remained quiet, the two of you in a standoff, to see who would break first. Your hands were clenched into fists, shaking wildly. 

“I missed your cock but not that mouth.” You regretted your words the moment they came out, because his eyes lit up. He knew he had you right where he wanted you. 

He then plopped onto the couch, his legs spread wide. You looked down at him in astonishment, “What-” 

“You want it so bad? Come get it.” He patted his lap, the bulge in his khakis prominent. 

“You’re such a cocky asshole, you know that?” You seethed, crawling into his lap regardless. Making yourself at home on top of his hips, “Acting like one taste of my pussy wouldn’t have you begging for more.” 

“Never said it wouldn’t,” he grinned. 

You weren’t sure who moved first, the next thing you knew, teeth were gnashing against skin. Lips pulled together tightly, hands squeezing and scratching wherever they could. It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t careful. It was hunger and frustration and longing wrapped up in heat, the kind that burned instead of soothed. It was animalistic. Every kiss felt like a confession, every desperate grab a way of saying what neither of you had managed to put into words.

“Did you fuck her?” You asked with a growl, pulling his head back by the hair on his neck. He let out a grunt at the movement, his eyes snapping to yours. Taking him by surprise at your sudden violence, the green monster tugs at you. 

“Bet you wanna know-” 

You yanked harder, his neck jerking. “I asked you a question.” 

“F-fuck, no. No, I didn’t.” He whined, “She loves Jonathan.” 

“Would you have fucked her? If she wanted to?” 

“Probably.” The admission was sharp, his eyes pleading with you. 

No words could match how you were feeling; instead, you brought your lips to his in a bruising kiss. As if you could will away any memory of her lips from his. Nails scraped against skin, leaving a painful reminder of you on his body.

No time was wasted in undressing; your shirt was pulled open. Your skirt pulled up over your hips.

“Baby, let me get you ready.” His hands slid up under your skirt, pulling your soaked panties to the side. His fingers were swiping at your entrance. He sensed your urgency, not wanting to hurt you. 

You shook your head, continuing to pull his pants down to his knees. Still straddling his lap, you pulled his hand away despite his protests. 

“Just need you, please.” The words were thick in your mouth, hovering on top of his hardened cock. Steve was well endowed; it took your body years to become used to his size. Now that it had been months, surely it would be difficult. But you were a masochist. You wanted it to hurt; you needed it to hurt. It’s what you felt like you deserved. 

He hesitated, but nodded. Trusting you to make your own decision, his breath hitching when your wet slit rubbed against his tip. His hands braced your hips as you slid down, taking a few inches in a fast thrust. 

The gasp that left your mouth was inhuman, your body falling into his hold. “Baby,” He hissed, “I told you to let me-” 

You shushed him, the stretch burning in a sick twisted pleasure as you moved further down. Taking all nine inches of him in a gentle swoop. “Needed this. Just like this.” You cried out, your clit rubbing against the coarse hair that sat above his cock. 

“Yeah? No one else can fill you up like this, baby.” He grunted, his hold on your hips sure to leave bruises. “Can they?” 

You shook your head, grinding down on him slowly. Letting your cunt adjust to the intrusion, soaking him in your arousal. 

“Have you been fucking other men, baby?” He mocked the slow, gentle circles he rubbed on your skin, contrasting with his evil words. 

You didn’t respond; you couldn’t not while you were still catching your breath. “Bet every time they fucked you with their tiny cocks, you thought of me, huh? Couldn’t quite reach where I can.” 

“Shut. Up.” You grumbled, pretending like you weren’t clenching around him at his words. 

You lifted your hips, pulling off of him except for an inch before slamming back down. This cut him off from his next taunt, letting out a guttural moan instead. He was quiet after, helping you find a gentle rhythm. Your hips stuttered each time they met his, his bulbous tip hitting your sweet spot each time. 

Neither of you was going to last long; you could feel it in the way his muscles tensed. Both of you hadn’t felt the touch of another since your last night together. You were both lost in the feeling, riding his cock like you’d die without it. 

“Take that fucking cock.” He sighed, throwing his head back into the couch cushions. 

“Do you ever shut up?” You stuttered, your fingernails digging harshly into his shoulder blades. Lost in the feeling of him, before he stopped you. Holding your hips down on him, you barely got a chance to speak before he lifted his hips. Thrusting up into you experimentally, your eyes rolling in the back of your head. 

“Tell me how good it feels,” He panted, ignoring how you struggled to bounce in his lap. “Tell me, or I’ll stop.” 

You were quiet, meeting his eyes. “You wouldn’t.” You called his bluff, but unfortunately, he was serious as he began to slide you off his lap, excruciatingly slow. 

“W-wait,” You cried out, placing your hand on his chest. “Please don’t stop.” 

He thrusted up into you slowly, “Be a good girl and tell me how my cock feels splitting you apart.” 

“God,” You sobbed, bracing yourself in his hold as he let you bounce on him once again. “Feels so good. S’fucking good baby. Please don’t make me stop.” 

“S’what I thought.” His hand slapped your ass harshly, gripping the flesh to help guide you in taking him with each swivel of your hips. In the chaos, he leaned forward, pressing sloppy kisses to your neck.

“Where’s the ring?” He growled, his teeth biting against the flesh of your collarbone. 

One of your hands was now laced in his hair, the other pressed firmly on his chest. “W-what?” You slurred, his pace still unrelenting. Fucking his hips up into yours without a care in the world. 

“The ring. I want it on your hand.”

“You d-don’t deserve it being on my hand.” You barked back, letting your fingernails dig into his chest. The pain only spurred him on. 

“I know.” He grunted, planting his feet.“Doesn’t mean I don’t wanna fuck you with nothing but that ring on your hand.” 

“Jesus.” You grumbled, nearly losing your balance. His hands gripped your hips tighter, taking over your movements completely. Fucking up into you as if you weighed nothing, your head falling back. 

“This fucking pussy missed me, huh?” He grunted, as if the lewd sounds of your cunt squelching for him weren’t enough. Steve always had a filthy mouth; it only got worse when he had something to prove. 

“Fuck you.” You whined, blindly covering his mouth with your hand. In return, all he did was bite down gently on your digits, continuing on. 

“That’s exactly what I’m doing.” His words were muffled, your body coming apart on top of his. You screaming out his name only spurred him on, emptying his load deep inside your cunt. With each clench around him, you took him in deeper, holding onto him for dear life as you both rode out your orgasms with each other. 

Sweat lined your skin. Steve’s warm lips were against your skin. Relishing the feeling of you still around him. 

“You okay?” He mumbled, your eyes slowly fluttering back open. You didn’t know what you felt, now stuck in the after. After this complicated line was crossed. Where were you to go now? 

“It’s late.” You said shakily, lifting your hips off of him slowly. Tears prickling your eyes when you were faced with the emptiness when he slipped out of you. You ignored his worried eyes, pulling your skirt back down. Fumbling with your shirt buttons. 

“You,” He cleared his throat, pulling his boxers back up, “Don’t have to run out. You can stay. Wait a minute-” 

“No, I should go.” You said clearly, stumbling around to collect your things. 

“You’ve had a lot to drink, what we did-” He paused, “You need a minute to calm down.” 

“I haven’t been drunk since we argued outside. I can’t use the wine as an excuse for this.” You rubbed messily at your eyes. “I’ll be safe, I just can’t be here. I need to go.” 

He stopped you at the door, holding onto your hand. “Please call me when you get home. Or I’ll come over to check myself.” 

You did call him that night, keeping it short and sweet before you trudged up to your room. Screaming into your pillowcase. You didn’t expect the night to go as it did, your heart unable to handle it. You woke up the next day with an emotional hangover, trudging through the next few days like a zombie. 

You kept your promises, getting coffee with Robin. Going Christmas shopping with Max and El. You even spent lunch with your mother, ignoring her judgmental glares when you told her that you and Steve didn’t magically get together over one Christmas party. 

Christmas Eve night, and the house was quiet, aside from the phone ringing loudly off the hook at 10 before midnight. You nearly tripped racing to the phone, picking it up in haste. 

“Hello?” You spoke into the receiver quietly, praying neither of your parents would pick up the other line. 

“Hey.” Steve’s voice rang out quietly, “Sorry if I woke you.” 

“Couldn’t sleep.” You admitted, imagining him in his bed. The phone nuzzled between his cheek and neck. 

“Me neither.” His voice was deeper than normal. Thick with sleep, and an unknown emotion. Your teeth bit down on your bottom lip, refusing to make the first move. You knew why he called you, and you hated that he knew you’d answer. 

“Do you remember our old spot?” He finally spoke.

You were grateful that he couldn’t see your smirk through the phone, “I remember.” 

“You can say no, but I can be there in 10.” 

You should’ve said no. You should’ve told him you planned to drive home tomorrow, to leave this town with your tail between your legs. Unable to face what you’d done. But lines have already been crossed; what was one more time? So the words were leaving your mouth before you had the chance to reconsider the consequences. 

“I’ll see you there.” 

Minutes later, you had pulled your car into the abandoned parking lot, right between Hawkins High and Hawkins Presbyterian. It was here that you felt 17 again, sneaking behind your parents' backs to meet up with a boy. Going from one backseat to another. When the familiar rumble of Steve’s beamer pulled up beside you, it was the soundtrack to your teenage years. His engine turning off, his stumbling as he clambered into your passenger seat, as he belonged there. 

His cheeks were flushed from the cold. “Hey.” 

“Hey.” You replied, just as awkwardly as he did. “Merry Christmas.”

He made the first move, cupping your face in his large hand. Forcing you to look at him. “You’re so beautiful.” 

No makeup on, in ratty high school pajamas, hair a mess in the moonlight. You were the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen; nothing would change that. 

“What are we doing?” You frowned, ignoring the way you nuzzled into his palm. 

He only repeated your words with a gentle tone, “You tell me.” 

“I don’t know.” You found yourself leaning in, chasing his lips with your own. 

You hated how well you knew each other, falling into a rhythm as if there wasn’t a chasm between the two of you. It took all but a few kisses before you were stumbling into the backseat, clothes getting pulled off in every direction. 

“Let me take care of you, please.” He was all but begging against your lips, his hands tugging at your pajama pants. Who were you to deny him? 

It took a while to get a comfortable position, grown-up bodies not quite slotting together in the leather seats as teenage ones once did. Your head was leaning against the door, cushioned by an old hoodie as Steve lay half on the floor. His lips were trailing messy kisses up your thigh, before his tongue hit your quivering clit. 

“Oh my god.” Your body immediately convulsed, head twacking against the car door by accident. You couldn’t find it in yourself to care as his mouth worked magic on you. Slowly inching his fingers deep inside you, curling them just enough to have you see stars. 

It was moments like this that you were reminded of just how well he knew your body, playing you like a piano. Knowing exactly how to make you scream. So there was no surprise when a short few minutes later, you were coming apart on his face, lazily grinding against his nose. Chasing every ounce of pleasure from him. He would’ve kept going if you hadn’t stopped him with a short pull of his hair. 

“I might get a concussion if we don’t switch.” You giggled, sitting up slowly. Having hit your head against the car door enough. “And you don’t need anymore head injuries.” 

He laughed, but paused when he saw you flip over. Settling on your hands and knees for him, your glistening cunt wide on display for him. 

“Jesus, fuck.” His cock got even harder if possible, as he balanced on his shaky knees. “Are you sure?” 

“Yeah, please.” You wiggled your hips at him, making more curses slip from underneath his breath. You wanted to wrap your mouth around him, but the limited movement didn’t allow for that. You heard him pull his boxers down, leaning forward with a cupped hand to your mouth. 

He didn’t even need to give you directions; you were spitting into his hand. He used this to stroke his cock lazily, not as if he needed it since he worked you open this time. 

Your hands were gripping the door when he slowly pushed in, the angle even deeper than the last time. His hand settled on your lower back while he pressed against your womb with each shift of his hips. 

“S’fucking deep.” You babbled, “I love your huge fucking cock.” 

Your praise only made him twitch deep inside you, dragging against your warm walls. “S’all yours. Your fucking cock, baby. Only f’you.” 

You cried out his name when he moved. It was hot and fast. Both of you were chasing your highs greedily as the car rocked. The only sounds were the pornographic moans slipping through your lips and the harsh recoil of his hips hitting against your ass. 

“Need you to cum again for me, baby.” He grunted through his teeth, his hand reaching between your legs to rub circles on your swollen clit. “Gotta feel it.” 

With a fast nod, your cunt squelched around him. Your hand slid across the frosted glass, cooling your warmed skin as he trailed kisses up and down your spine. Coaxing you through the orgasm that had your legs trembling. 

“Cum inside me.” You cried out, repeating it over and over. “Mark me as yours.” 

“All your’s baby. Yeah, oh fuck yeah- take that cum.” He stuttered, his hips stilling as he emptied inside of you. Filling you up once more, plugging your cunt full of him. His fingers kept rubbing your clit slowly, feeling each twitch of your cunt suckling in his cum. “Good girl, taking it all.” 

“Fuck.” You whined when he slowly pulled out, helping clean you both up. 

He ended up on his back, pulling you onto his chest, awkwardly cuddling in the backseat. Your face nuzzled into his side, hand trailing fingers through his chest hair. A place on his side that was once yours every night.

“If you love me here, why can’t you love me there?” You asked, his chest stilling. 

“I never stopped loving you. I haven’t even tried, I just know it’s not possible.” He admitted, his hand running through the ends of your hair. This hair now held memories of him, too. 

“Like it. Your hair.” He admitted. 

“Only cut it because it reminded me of you.” You admitted back, closing your eyes. Letting the beat of his chest echo in your ears. If this was going to be the last time the two of you were ever like this, you were going to cherish it. Even if it was in the backseat of your car, his head was awkwardly propped against the foggy windows. 

“I didn’t cut my hair because I knew no one else would cut it like you.” He sighed, his hands stilling on your scalp. 

“We’re hopeless.” He couldn’t help but agree, holding you even tighter. 

“Do you wanna go back to my house?” He spoke quietly, not wanting the night to end. Not here, not in the backseat of your SUV like lovesick teenagers. 

You didn’t even have to think when you nodded, the two of you dressing in comfortable silence. When you got to his house, he slipped your coat off your shoulders, a practiced motion you got down after years of Indiana winters. His hair was damp from the snow and sweat, tiny curls appearing on his forehead and the back of his neck. Your fingers ached to trace the spiral. 

“I have some cider.” He spoke up, “Could warm us up.” 

“You should steal some of your dad’s bourbon. I can spike it.” You smiled, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes this time. 

“I like the way you think.” He parted with a kiss on your forehead. Leaving you to grab two mugs, warming up the apple cider. Successfully spiking it with the decanter he brought back. You migrated to the couch, settling in the spot across from him. The drink burned your throat, the spice settling deep in your chest. 

“We’re gonna have to talk about it, you know?” He spoke, setting his mug down on the table. Leaning back on the couch, one arm spread against the back of it. “Like actually talk about it.”

He looked good, too good. The dark red cashmere contrasts against his pale skin, his still-damp hair falling across his forehead. Your fingers ached to run your hands through his locks again, to press your lips to his exposed neck. 

“Tis the damn season.” You said sarcastically, your hand still gripping your mug tightly. Willing the spiked cider to enter your bloodstream faster. “It doesn’t have to mean anything. Just a weekend where we let ourselves pretend everything was okay.” 

“It means everything, and you know that.” He spoke quickly, his eyes squinting at you. 

Your mouth went dry, taken aback by his words. You knew it did the moment you two crossed the line that it was more than just sex. It could never be just sex between the two of you.

“Okay..” You slumped in your seat, “What does it mean then? Tell me. Because on the same day you were giving Nancy heart eyes, you fucked me on your couch.”

“I don’t see Nancy as anything other than a friend.” He swore, “I’ll admit, it was nice to feel wanted, I guess. I was lonely, and she was here. It was easy to slip into old shoes, harmless flirting. At first, just longing for someone. But Nancy.. We’d never work out. She still loves Jonathan, and I’d never get over you.” 

“There’s no one else.” You admitted, answering his question from days ago. “I was just riling you up. Which was very toxic of me, but you’re hot when you’re making assumptions. I went on one date, snuck out through the back door of the restaurant, crying.” 

While the thought made his stomach coil, he couldn’t stop the loud laugh that left his lips. “You’re kidding.” 

“No, it was embarrassing,” You giggled, “He ordered garlic bread, hold the garlic, so it was just bread. And when I asked him why he didn’t just say bread, he said it wasn’t the same. The only thing I could think of was ‘Wow, Steve would make fun of him with me’. So I cried and left.” 

“I would’ve made fun of him with you, but he didn’t deserve to go on a date with you.” He frowned a little through his laughs, “No one does.” 

A sharp silence sat between you two. Snow was still falling from outside, and Cider still steamed in your mugs. The room smelled like pine needles and cinnamon.

“I don’t know what to do,” You admitted, feeling small under his gaze, “We both hurt each other, but have we hurt each other too much? Can we take back the things we said?”

“No,” Steve said.

 Finally, after a brief moment of silence, your heart sank. So this was it, after everything, this was the closure you were avoiding. The kind that snuffed out the last bit of hope you’d been clinging to, leaving you no soft place to land. 

“We can’t take it back. We said those things because we were scared and hurting, and pretending we didn’t mean it at the time isn’t gonna fix anything.” 

His words hit like a gunshot at point-blank range. You took a moment to let the words sink in. 

You swallowed hard, nodding. “So that’s it, then.”

He shook his head. “No. Not if you don’t want it to be.”

You looked up at him, confused. Unsure if it was the cider speaking, or him. But when you caught his eyes, they were clear and determined. 

“We can’t go back to how we were. That much is obvious. Too much time has passed. We’ve both changed, I know I’ve changed.” He let out a soft laugh, “But that doesn’t mean it’s the end.” 

Silence stretched between you two, no longer a sharp sting- just a heavy weight over the two of you. 

“I spent months convincing myself that I made the right decision. I hurt you, I know I did. And there’s not a day that goes by, Y/n, that I don’t regret that.” He admitted, “I was lost. I was so lost and in my head, and I thought the only way to find myself again was space. I just kept thinking that if I stayed, you’d end up resenting me. That you’d wake up one day and realize you’d slowed yourself down for someone who couldn’t keep up. That you’d hate me the same way my dad hates my mom for ever keeping him in this town.” 

His words were heavy with emotion, cut off by your shaky voice. “You didn’t have any right to make that decision without me.” 

“God, I know,” he said. “But at the time, I couldn’t breathe. I was just treading water every day. I didn’t know who I was anymore, and I was terrified you’d end up hating me. So I did the worst thing possible and sped up the process.” 

“I don’t hate you,” You spoke quickly, “Steve, I could never hate you. Trust me, I tried.” 

He cracked a sad smile at that, his thumb rubbing over the edge of his now-chilled cider. 

“I guess I just thought leaving would give you space to become everything you were meant to be,” he said. “And maybe give me time to figure myself out. Looking back, yeah. I’d go back in time and change it if I could, but I can’t.” 

“Did it?” You asked, “Give you time?” 

He shook his head, cruel amusement on his lips. “Just made me realize that losing you made my life so much worse than it was. You changed, you know?” 

You raised an eyebrow at him, “The hair isn’t that big of a deal.” 

“Not that. You don’t need me the way you used to. You’re more sure of yourself, I can tell. And that scares me, because I know we can’t come back and expect things to be the same.”

“I don’t want the same,” you sighed. “I just don’t want to lose you again.”

He was quiet for a moment, then said, “Maybe we don’t decide everything right now.”

You glanced back at him. “What do you mean?”

“I mean… we take it slow,” Steve said. “No promises we can’t keep. No rushing back into forever just because we miss each other. Let me earn your love again. Let me earn you putting that ring back on your finger. I’ll do it all over again. I’ll even get back down on one knee.” He brought his hand to yours, lacing your fingers together. Tracing the empty spot on your left ring finger. 

You nodded slowly. “No running this time.”

“No running,” he agreed, bringing your hand up to his mouth. Pressing the gentlest kiss to your knuckles.

It wasn’t forgiveness, not in the traditional sense. No one tells you what to do when someone you love hurts you, so you hurt them back twice as hard. It wasn’t a clean slate; there was no pretending to patch over bullet holes with cheap plaster. Starting over didn’t erase the hurt or fix the cracks in the foundation. It just meant choosing each other again, knowing exactly what it could cost. But waking up every day, fighting for each other instead of against one another, felt like something worth risking the pain for. 

He could never be. Every girl that looked his way had a stronger chance than you ever did. You weren't the type of girl he went after—not even close. Given your track record, you could barely even call yourself desirable.

No matter how close you felt to him, you would never be like Steve Harrington.

You would never know what it was like to grow up beautiful. To become someone's object of affection. To go through life with the safety net that was beauty. You were never the town's "golden girl." You were never so popular you had your own moniker. You were never meant to be the girl who got the guy.

So you could never fall for Steve Harrington.

Because you knew you would crash.

The doorbell to Family Video felt like a knot spawning in your throat.

“Welcome to Family Video,” Steve sighed, his voice monotone and bored, gaze focused on the counter's computer.

“Well, hello to you, too,” you retorted, tilting your head.

It was almost unfair how he glowed upon seeing you. As if the light in his eyes was specifically dedicated to making you weak for him.

“Hey!” Steve smiled, his attention automatically directed to you instead. “Didn't expect to see you here.”

You smirked back at him. “You either, Harrington," you stepped closer, leaning your elbows on the counter.

Steve mirrored the action, his gaze flickering over you before refocusing on your face.

“What are you doing here?” He inquired softly, as if his voice was meant just for you at this moment.

You felt that smile he brought out in you trying to give way before catching yourself, remembering how far the ground was from up in the clouds—the crushing impact you were inviting in. You took a step away from the cliff, glancing down as your arms left the counter.

"Apparently, the party is hosting a campaign at the Henderson house tonight," you cleared your throat, "I just came to ask Robin if I could stay with her tonight," you said quietly, reeling yourself back into your own space.

You looked back at him to see his eyes focused on your arms, a frown forming—barely noticeable. Imperceptive enough that no one else would recognize it, but you had practically memorized every inch of his face.

Every change in his features had been neatly cataloged in your mind. Labeled, filed, and kept away for moments like these.

"Oh, she didn't come in today," he cleared his throat, scratching the back of his head. "She called in sick," Steve clarified.

You deflated at the news, your head hanging. "Shit..." you cursed under your breath. "Okay, thanks for letting me know, I guess. I'll figure out something."

Steve opened his mouth as if to say something before the bell to Family Video rang out again. You watched as his eyes focused behind you. That's when you turned and saw her.

Olivia Taylor, the once head cheerleader of Hawkins High, here for one thing only. "Hi, Steve," she sang, flashing him one of her famous smiles. Shy, flirtatious, and captivating.

You wanted to hate her. That would be easier—to call her a tryhard, to drag her name through the dirt, to say she wasn't beautiful. But no matter how hard you tried, there was nothing about her to criticize.

That was the pattern you noticed with Steve. All of the girls who were blessed to have his attention were perfect.

The same petite bodies, flawless hairstyles, crystal clear skins. They had everything you didn't. Every girl in Hawkins could pass for an angel—a figure of unimaginable beauty. Except for you. You would be better on the sidelines.

The sick feeling you felt just from those two words tumbled in your stomach. You couldn't tell if you wanted to run, cry, or throw up. The tone of her voice left nothing to interpret. You could hear the want. The desire to be noticed by Steve. It was disgusting how familiar it sounded.

"Welcome to Family Video," Steve called out. You turned back to see him smiling at her. "I'll be right with you." You watched his gaze return back to you. The light you had previously seen in his eyes was gone. A bright, beautiful, blonde shadow had casted, completely erasing the sunshine that was solely yours a second ago.

"There's some movies in the back Robin wanted you to check out." He suggested, kindly shooing you away. "Why don't you go take a look at them?" You knew what he was doing. Brushing you off so you couldn't get in the way of his new opportunity.

But it was Steve, so you went down without a fight.

You quietly traveled over in between the aisles like a shadow, leaving him to charm his way into another girl's pants. "What can I do for you?" You heard him ask, his signature King Steve voice making an appearance. The one that he used to wield to get girls like it was a competition he needed to win.

You could practically feel Olivia tilt her head. Probably twirling her hair with a smile. "Do you have any good movies for a first date?" she asked

Wow. She wasn't wasting any time, then.

"Absolutely." You heard him clap his hands before the sound of feet shuffling came closer. "What does he like?" he asked as you crossed over to another aisle.

"Oh, I'm not sure," she said innocently. "I'm sure a handsome guy like you would know just what to watch. What would you recommend?"

You fought the urge to roll your eyes. God, this was torture.

"Well, it depends…" he muttered to himself. You could see in your mind the furrow between his brows as he thought it over.

You briefly wondered to yourself if he could see it. The flashing sign in front of him trying to get his attention. Could he not tell that she wanted him? Impossible. Steve Harrington had the looks to believe any girl wanted him, and the asshole that he was, he was usually right.

"Well, there's Back to the Future. That's always a good one. Or— Oh! Ferris Bueller's Day Off!" You could hear the excited smile in his voice. It reminded you of the one he had when he watched it with you last month. "That's a classic first date movie."

You could hear Olivia giggle sweetly, probably tilting her head again. "Sold."

"Great, let me ring you up." He passed your aisle as he made his way to the counter. He looked at you, giving you the briefest smile—one you had come to recognize as his way of silently apologizing.

You couldn't help but return the smile, unable to help the way he could bring one out of you just by looking your way. You returned your focus back to the tapes in front of you as the cash register chimed quietly.

"That'll be $10.80," Steve said. You could hear the rumbling of Olivia's purse.

"Thank you, you know. You're a total lifesaver."

Steve smiled back at her. "Just doing my job."

She handed him her change. "Are you doing anything tonight?" She asked. Her voice had grown lower, deeper. Your eyes were on the two of them before you could process it.

"Not currently, no," he answered as he carefully filed away her payment.

"Would you like to be?"

Steve's head flicked up instantly. Olivia smirked at him, a knowing look in her eye. She had him right where she wanted him. "You. Me. A classic first date movie…" she batted her eyelashes at him. You could hear Steve struggle to form words as he attempted to gather her change.

"I've- I've already watched Ferris Bueller's Day Off," he responded cautiously. You caught the nervousness laced in his voice. The swallow in his throat. Great. Not only was Olivia the ideal dream girl, but she made him nervous.

"Oh, don't worry," she lowered her voice even further, looking at his lips seductively. "I wouldn't want your attention on the movie, anyway…"

You couldn't take it any more. You rushed your way inside the backroom, trying to keep down the bile in your throat. Your breath caught as you shut the door, desperately trying to pause the movie you had seen a million times before. The film that always interrupted your daydreams. You sat down on the nearest stool, your head falling into your hands.

Why did you do this to yourself? You knew not to fall for Steve Harrington. You knew that you would only get hurt. Romance had never favored you. Cupid's arrows were never sharp enough to convince someone they would die without you.

God, you were so stupid. Of course this was how the movie ended. You knew that as soon as Steve "The Goddamn Hair" Harrington stumbled into your heart like it was just a tourist spot to visit. You wished he would have never walked into your life. Never met your brother. Never—

"Hey, where'd you go?" Steve's gentle voice you never heard him use with anyone else whispered as he opened the door. "You know only employees are supposed to be back here, right?" The joke fell flat amongst the static that channeled in your ears.

"Since when do you care, Harrington?" You bit back. You knew it was mean—that he didn't deserve your anger, but there was no one around to be mad at but him.

"I care when you're trying to get away from me."

A heavy silence fell in the room with that. You looked down at your hands, fidgeting with your fingers. Steve sighed, sitting down on the stool across from you.

"Did you still need somewhere to go tonight?" Steve asked you softly.

You looked up at him, an anger still in your eyes. "Yeah, why?"

He met your eyes, wielding your favorite smile of his. The one that reminded you of a shy little boy—nothing but love and kindness in his heart. Not the teenage boy who broke hearts and left without a trace, or the king who had fallen from grace. Just a young boy looking at you like you meant something in his big world.

"Why don't you stay at my place tonight?"

You rolled your eyes at the suggestion. Like you would crash at his place while he "watched a movie" with Olivia at her house. Just the idea of being in his house all alone was enough to have your chest constricting. "I'm not gonna spend the night in an empty house, Harrington."

"I'd be there?" His response took you aback, apparently just as yours did him.

"Aren't you—busy now?" You gestured towards the door—the movie you had paused.

"I'd like to be."

Your eyebrows inched closer together. "What are you talking about?"

"You can stay at my house tonight," Steve offered again, leaning closer. "My folks aren't there. You could keep me company. "

You tilted your head. His boyish smile had probably disoriented you into some kind of hallucinatory state.

"I- I thought—"

Steve seemed to catch onto your thought process with a subtle smirk. "What, Olivia?" he shook his head, smiling. "Nah," he responded. "I said no."

You blinked at him. Well, that was a plot twist if you had ever seen one.

"So… my house tonight?" Steve reminded you. "You in?"

You should say no. You knew you should. Saying yes to Steve Harrington was like jumping from a ship into siren infested waters.

But how were you supposed to resist the tempting waves that sparkled in his eyes? How were you supposed to ignore the living marble statue before you?

No. You could see the sharp teeth of rejection whirling beneath the water. You had learned to filter through the siren's call and turn the steering wheel before you could crash. You wouldn't be fooled into jumping—

"Okay."

Idiot.

If the doorbell to Family Video felt like a knot in your throat, the chime announcing Steve Harrington was at your front door was the noose.

"Coming!" Dustin hollered from downstairs. You could hear him violently stomping as you zipped your backpack, closing your closet on your way out. You hurried down the stairs just in time to see Dustin opening the front door.

The presence of Steve standing on your front porch was enough to make time stop still. You couldn't help the way your eyes fell on the strands of his hair that always landed perfectly, framing his gentle eyes. The unfairly beautiful smile that graced his face so easily—

"Why are you wearing your nice jacket?" Steve's smile quicly turned into annoyance at Dustin's skeptical tone.

"Shut it, Henderson," Steve shoved at his shoulder, his eyes on you as you met Dustin's side.

Dustin turned to you, squinting. "Where are you going?"

"I'm letting her stay with me tonight so she doesn't have to deal with you shits keeping her up all night." Steve supplied, glaring at your brother. "Call it a rescue."

"Down, boy," you quipped at Steve, joining his side with a smile.

Dustin scoffed. "For your information, there is nothing about our campaign that she needs rescuing from! If anything, you both could be enjoying a great night of adven—!"

"Night, shitbird." Steve smirked triumphantly as he closed the door in his face. "Jeez, that kid's relentless," he sighed.

You walked right by his side. "You're the one who's friends with him," you remind him, "I just live with him."

Steve rolled his eyes at you, opening the passenger side door for you. "Exactly, which is why I'm currently saving you, right now. You're welcome."

You smiled as you got in your seat, setting your backpack down. You watched him through the window as he made his way to the driver's side.

Steve opened the door, getting in while looking at you, smiling giddily. "You ready?" He asked, bucking his seat belt.

Once again, you could sense the incoming implosion getting closer and closer every second you were with him. The ticking of a clock counting down until you lost this fragile fantasy of having his attention—

"Always."

The universe was just taunting you now.

Steve was looking up at you from his pool—smiling without a care in the world despite being fully clothed. Under the night sky, though, every beautiful thing about him was practically magnified—the night stars reflecting on the water.

The fucker.

"You coming in, or what, Henderson?" He smiled at you.

You shook your head at him, rolling your eyes. "I'm not getting in there without a swimsuit."

Steve grinned, swimming closer to the edge you were at. "Come on," he folded his arms on the edge. "Live a little, Henderson."

His voice was lower, eyes shining like glittering waters. You felt yourself leaning in closer to his call, the water tempting you more and more—

"Nope," you shook your head. "I'm not getting these clothes wet."

Steve rolled his eyes. "Okay, fine," he gave up, extending his arm out towards you. "Help me up then?"

You took his hand with a smirk. "Can't even get up on your own, Harrin—?" Steve pulled you in before you could even finish your sentence.

Despite the warm temperature of the pool, you felt the water surround you like a cold plunge. You climbed to the surface to find Steve beaming at you like he was a kid again.

You couldn't help but bark a laugh out of shock, immediately splashing water his way. "Asshole!" He laughed at your dramatics—the sound flying you up into the clouds—before splashing you right back.

Regardless of how angry you could have been, you felt so alive for once you couldn't be bothered to care.

You charged right for him. Steve shoved water at you while trying to get away. "Can't catch me!" He retorted like a child, beaming as he avoided you.

You were both caught in a fit of laughter when you finally reached him, lunging on top of him. The two of you sunk below the surface for the briefest second before you came back up for air.

That second underwater was the most free you'd felt in a long time. You were terrified of drowning—even before you met Steve. You would stay on land as you watched your brother and his friends splash around. It wasn't until Steve offered to give you swimming lessons a year ago that you started enjoying going to the pool.

But you hated spending too much time underwater—afraid of drowning, that feeling where you're unable to reach the surface in time cause you had overestimated your chances and gone too far.

But you weren't scared just now. You were too busy holding onto Steve to remember why you should've been scared. You knew he wouldn't let you drown, anyway. He would go down with you. He would save you every time.

You were busy laughing and combing your hair back once you returned to the surface. "I'm gonna get you back for that, Harrington."

When your eyes finally met his, you saw something there you hadn’t cataloged yet. His gaze was focused on your lips, filled with something you were too scared to call desire.

It was only then that you realized how close he was—one of his hands set on your waist. You could count every one of his eyelashes, the subtle freckles on his cheeks.

You swallowed quietly, the tension making your skin hot. "Steve—?"

You were cut off by the pull of his hand on the back of your neck, his lips suddenly on yours.

Your surprise was enough to render you frozen—long enough for Steve to pull back. His eyes opened to see yours had never closed.

The sight must have scared him. "Shit—sorry. I just—I thought–"

This time, you were the one to cut him off, locking your lips with his before you could talk yourself out of it.

His lips felt like a heaven you had been denying yourself for far too long. The pearly gates you didn't believe a God would be kind enough to let you see. Steve's kiss was your road to Damascus—a blinding heavenly light that you had spent forever cursing its existence of.

At the same time, you could taste the forbidden fruit in his teeth—the temptation you had fallen for. Even devoted and wise, Steve Harrington could fool you into falling from grace.

You tore apart from him—the taste of your sin still on your lips. His eyes were still closed, his lips still parted as if he expected you to come back. After a second too long, Steve opened his eyes. The drumming in your ears distracted you from noticing the dilation of his pupils or the weight of his breaths.

You once again felt his hand on the back of your neck, his fingers half mindedly combing through the soft strands he could reach.

"Why'd you stop?" The ragged texture in his voice wasn't helping. The hoarse quality made your knees weak. You wanted to fall, to let him catch you, to sink into his arms—

No, something was wrong with this. Steve Harrington is not the type of guy who falls for you. And you're not the type of girl who can afford to fall for him.

You shook your head. "You don't know what you're doing," you murmured, pulling back.

Steve's brows furrowed, catching up to your hesitation. "Hey," he pulled you closer, "what are you talking about?"

"I'm not—Steve—this isn't—you don't know what you're doing."

"I know what I'm doing—"

"No! You don't!" You protested, your eyes looking everywhere but him, your breath coming quicker. "You're—you're making a mistake—you're not thinking clearly."

"Hey." Steve refocused your attention onto him. "Look at me, baby. Take a breath," he encouraged, wiping a loose strand of hair out of your eyes, your chest heaving.

He nodded as you tried to calm down, breathing like he had told you. "That's it, honey. There you go," he breathed with you. "You're okay, yeah? Everything's fine."

You nodded back, closing your eyes so you wouldn't have to see the way he was looking at you.

"What's going on, sweetheart? Need you to talk to me."

Your breath caught again as you shook your head. "This—This isn't real."

"Why is it not real?" he asked you softly.

You almost scoffed through your flustered state. "Cause you're you," you reminded him incredulously. "You're you, Steve, and I'm not the type of girl you—I'm not the type of girl you can do this with."

He head tilted subtly. "Do what with?" he questioned gently, deep doe eyes looking at you intently.

"Kiss me like this," you stated, "Like—like it means nothing."

Steve shook his head, his other hand cupping your cheek. "Who said it means nothing?"

You could barely contain the roll of your eyes. "Are you kidding? Steve, I'm not—I'm not the type of girl you fall for," you muttered, eyes cast downwards.

"The type of—? What?" Steve sounded unbelievably confused for someone so beautiful. "Baby, you're not making sense."

You sighed, biting your lip so you wouldn't do something stupid.

"Why did you kiss me?"

"Because I thought it was the right moment?" he answered, blinking at you like you were the crazy one. "I've been wanting to do that since I met you, sweetheart."

You shook your head, denying the possibility. "Why? Just to add another girl to your roster or something—?"

"Hey, stop it with that." His voice was firm then. It almost sounded like he was scolding you for even thinking that. You shrunk in on yourself out of shame.

Steve sighed. "You're not another girl for me," he promised.

"Then what am I?"

"You're the girl for me, sweetheart."

The conviction of his tone would've swept you off your feet if he wasn't holding you like an anchor. Steve leaned his face closer to yours, brushing your nose with his.

"I'd—I'd like you to be mine," he continued, eyes reflecting the glowing lights that brightened the pool. "My girl."

You weren't sure you were alive anymore. The only proof of life you had was the angel of a man in front of you.

"Your—Your girl?" you stuttered helplessly.

Steve chuckled at you breathlessly. "If you'll let me."

Your eyebrows furrowed, causing him to laugh again. He brought his finger up to soothe the crease between them. "You're cute like this, you know."

You didn't have it in you to argue. You just continued to stare at him. "Wh—why me?" You asked. "Everybody wants you."

Steve smirked at you, tilting his head at you. "Doesn't mean I want them," he replied. "I only want you."

You're sure you could've stopped breathing. Perhaps you already had, and this was just some sick dream to transition you into death.

Steve grinned, leaning in to press a kiss on your cheek. "You really had no idea?" He asked, still smiling as he pulled back.

You fumbled for words as you blinked at him.

He chuckled at your stunned silence. "I like you, pretty girl," he tells you softly, cupping your face in his hands once again. His voice gets low before leaning in, "Always have."

Your eyes closed from the feeling of his lips on yours again. Steve proceeded to coaxe you into parting your lips for him, weakening your resolve into nothing. You couldn't process anything other than the taste of his tongue—a flavor you would rather die in vain than lose.

Goosebumps trailed down your skin as his hand returned to your waist, firmer than before as his jaw moved with yours

Your hands carefully traveled to his shoulders, holding tight to this moment. You inched back from his mouth. "Steve—?" Your departure didn't seem to stop Steve as he took the break as an excuse to kiss your face.

He hummed in response, the vibration on your skin making you feel warm.

"You—You really like me?"

Steve kept kissing the side of your face, roaming his lips over to your ear. "Mhmm," he responded. "I really, really like you, beautiful girl."

You blushed at the name, making him smile. "Yeah? You like when I call you beautiful?" Steve teased.

"Shut up, Harrington," you shoved his shoulder, rolling your eyes at him. It only made him grin wider.

"There's the girl I know and love."

You mirrored his smile, wrapping your arms around his neck. "Yeah? You love me, Harrington?"

Steve nodded, not an ounce of shame or hesitation to be found. "Since I met you."

You looked down at his lips. "Me too," you replied softly. Steve's smile grew impossibly wider. Ridiculously, he ended up lifting you up and spinning you around in his arms, as happy as can be.

You laughed with him as he set you back down, standing you on the solid ground of the pool floor.

"So..." you started, tilting your head, "what now?"

Steve held you close in his arms with the look of a man who's never known beauty, such as the one before him.

He shrugged. "It's whatever you want, baby."

And like you had done in a million daydreams before, you kissed Steve Harrington, just because you could—just because you were the one he chose.

You pulled back, whispering against his lips.

"You want to watch Ferris Bueller's Day Off?”

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