#everything has changed..................................

Your mothers lips pressed into a thin line at that, before brushing your hair back and tentatively telling you, “Sweetheart, it sounds like you care much more about the parts then the whole.”

“What does that mean?” you had asked her, a little offended by the statement.

“It means that you need to get beyond the physical and look at what's really hidden beneath all that. The whole is greater than the sum of its parts, or whatever it is they say,” she shrugged, and cracked her book open, deciding to let you stir in the remains of what she said.

You had thought your mom crazy at the time because you were pretty confident that you knew who Steve Harrington was. You knew he was a good guy underneath that beautiful outer shell of his.

But then the two of you started sophomore year, and he’d grown a wicked tongue and the title of ‘King Steve.’

And your hopes for there being more to him under the physical surface started dwindling the day he stomped all over your heart.

It started over a note.

You’d been writing him messages on sticky notes since middle school.

You wrote them every couple of weeks - filled with silly jokes, words of encouragement, or compliments that you thought he would appreciate.

Steve on the other hand found it downright embarrassing and pathetic how into him you were.

However, while he may not have wanted to be with you, he didn’t want to hurt your feelings either. He accepted the notes with a smile on his face, before crumpling them up and tossing them in a nearby trash can when you weren’t looking.

One day you were unable to get the note to him in person, as you were running late for your next class. You had slipped it into his locker and eagerly waited the whole period so you could take a peek at his reaction when the bell rang. The note had been a bit more bold, a bit more flirty, and you were hoping it would give Steve the courage to ask you out.

When you rounded the hallway corner, you were horrified to find him reading it out loud to Tommy Hagan and Carol Perkins. The three of them busted into fits of laughter, and you felt your heart crack as you watched Steve toss the note at a waste bin when he walked past it. He missed, the note bouncing off the rim and coming to a sad stop next to it. Steve didn’t even notice, foot pressing down on the paper - crushing it more than it already was.

You were a little heartbroken, but more than that, you were angry - which is why you found yourself confronting Steve at his basketball practice later that day.

You pushed the doors open and they clattered loudly - the sound of their hinges echoing off the high ceilings. You stormed in, arms crossed, ready to demand why Steve had acted like your words meant nothing.

When Steve saw you, he knew you were there for him. Of course you were - you were fixed on him, and he found it incredibly frustrating that you wouldn’t just leave him alone. He sighed heavily, before apprehensively making his way towards you.

“Why did you throw it out?” you snap, and Steve knows instantly what you’re talking about without further explanation.

He shrugs his shoulders, “I’m sorry, I just, don’t really need them.”

Them.

He said them, not it - making you realize he’s probably thrown all of them away.

“But, I thought you liked getting them,” you feel your throat starting to constrict.

“I mean, it’s sweet and all, but I’m not into you like that,” he shoves the dagger that feels like it’s sitting snug in your chest deeper.

“You’re not?” you ask achingly.

“C’mon, we’re not even in the same league,” he says it without malice, not purposely trying to be rude - like it’s just a fact that won’t change.

You didn’t ask for him to further elaborate, because he didn’t need to. Despite your parents being like royalty in their own high school glory days, the Wheeler kids weren’t exactly following in their footsteps.

The words stung, cut deep, but you still hopelessly believed that Steve was walking around carrying your first shot at love.

You ignorantly spent a year of your life doing everything you could to make yourself deem worthy of someone like Steve. You joined the cheerleading team, started dressing yourself in the current style, even got a job as a lifeguard with the popular kids over the summer before your junior year - desperately hoping that he’d start to pay attention to you.

But he still ignored you, and unfortunately, you still didn’t get the hint. As Steve watched you worm your way into the world that orbited his social life, the more he wanted nothing to do with you.

Steve knew the only thing left to do was diabolical, but it had to be done - going after your sister.

When Nancy came home, collapsed on your bed and confided in you about Steve asking her out, you felt your gut twist with something awful. You couldn’t name it - jealousy, rage, despair - perhaps it was all three swirling together until you decided that Steve was nothing more than an attractive face with a rotten heart.

Something in you flipped that day.

You spent the rest of your time in high school ignoring Steve. The closer he got to your sister, the more it pushed you away - granting him his wish that you finally would shed the weird infatuation that you had for him without really knowing him.

But now Steve had a problem, because the moment you pulled away, this unwelcome feeling pooled in his stomach, and he realized he missed you hanging onto every word he said.

He missed the notes - missed them so badly he wished he could dig his way through the garbage they’d become part of to get them back.

He missed you smiling excitedly at him and how you used to press yourself closer to him when you asked him about his day.

He missed the flirting and the playful attitude you had - loathed himself for taking any of it for granted because you were beautiful, not just in your appearance; but also had this heart that clearly cared deeply for others.

Steve realized there was a fine line between hate and love, and he might’ve secretly loved that you would do whatever it took to be his - never truly hated it.

Steve was screwed, because the more Nancy fell for him, Steve was falling for you.

When she finally moved on to Jonathan Byers, Steve thought maybe he was in the clear - could try to get to know you the way you once wanted to know him.

But the damage was already done, because you flipped - and you hated Steve Harrington.

Despite the fact that you made it blatantly clear you no longer had any interest, Steve was anything if not persistent - and was determined to make you his.

He’d been trying and hopelessly failing at winning your affections every time you stopped by Scoops Ahoy.

You would send him a withering look, and he’d start tripping over his words - feeling like the wind was knocked out of him at how pretty you were, even with that mean glare on your face.

And today was no different.

Steve noticed you instantly when you came in from the blistering summer heat - clothed in that tight little sundress you wore enough that it’s become his favorite piece of fabric he doesn’t own.

He was trying really hard not to stare at the length of silky skin that stretched amongst your legs and couldn’t help but be disappointed when he watched as you purposefully chose to sit at the farthest booth away from the counter - the furthest one from him.

His gaze lingers as he watches you sit by yourself for a few moments, before deciding to give it another shot - working swiftly to fill a cup with vanilla soft serve and rainbow sprinkles.

When he takes a seat across from you and slides the ice cream over as a peace offering, your mouth gapes in shock at him remembering your order - defences that are usually up around him falling easily at the notion. The fight you were ready to give him slips away as you see the look of affection reflected in his eyes.

“It’s still your favorite, right?” He tilts his head slightly.

The detail would have had your heart kicking up in glee years ago, but now it makes you push the delicious treat away.

“Um, yeah,” you reply softly, “but, I’m actually meeting someone here.”

“Like, a date?” Steve asks quietly, earlier bravado at trying to win you over now gone.

“Yeah,” you confirm, and you almost regret saying it because the way Steve visibly deflates at the news sucks.

“And you chose where I work, of all places?” Steve raises his eyebrows.

Your eyes narrow into slits at the insinuation, “Not everything revolves around you, Steve.”

“Sorry, I’m sorry. Didn’t mean that to be rude. I just, God, you’re gorgeous,” he stutters out, can’t help the words from escaping as he stares wantingly at you.

The words nearly stole your breath away, but you decided you couldn’t let up on him, because he never did the same for you.

“Steve,” you pause, trying to figure out how to turn him down in a way that won’t be too harsh.

“Yeah?” He asks eagerly, and you feel guilty that you were most likely about to ruin his mood.

“My date’s going to be here soon. You should probably, um, get back to work,” you whisper.

Steve’s mouth flounders, and a cute blush rises up his neck - curls around his ears and smashes his cheekbones.

He fakes a cough, “Right, okay.”

He practically bolts from the table in embarrassment, storming into the break room to stew over what an idiot he was.

“So stupid,” he mutters, closing his eyes in defeat.

And then his day got worse as he powerlessly watched you wait for your date for what felt like forever - thought maybe they were standing you up and he could weasel his way into charming you, picking up the pieces of whatever asshole decided you weren’t good enough.

That thought made him laugh spitefully because he realized he was that asshole at one point.

But your date did show up, some guy who was conventionally attractive, and Steve couldn’t help the insecurity that washed over him - or the ugly envy that was building in his sternum.

He’s spent the better half of your date just watching you, wallowing in self pity - trying to gauge if you liked the guy or not, hand propping his chin up.

“Stare any harder and you’ll pop that vein in your forehead, pretty boy,” Robins teases from behind him.

“How can she sit there, and laugh, and look incredible?” He groans, dropping his head onto the sticky surface of the counter, making Robin cringe in disgust.

“Wow, you’ve got it bad,” she teases.

Steve laughs sarcastically, “How can you tell?”

Robin rolls her eyes, “Why don’t you just ask her out?”

“I’ve tried that, Robin. She either acts like she hates my guts or pretends like I don’t exist,” he sighs wistfully.

“Rightfully so,” she shrugs her shoulders flippantly.

“Wow, thanks,” he mutters.

Robin rests on her elbows next to him, “You were a dick to her, Steve.”

Steve lifts his head up to look at her, “How do you know that?”

“Anyone who blends into the background at Hawkins High notices things. As someone who currently camouflages, when she was like me - she noticed every single thing about you, Harrington. Not that I get why, but she worked her ass off to get you to see her, and you could barely be kind to her,” Robin finishes her speech with a look of exasperation.

Steve swallows thickly at the words, hates that there was ever a part of him that didn’t notice you.

It hits him then, that he would spend the rest of his life noticing every part of you if you’d just let him try.

“How do I fix it?” He asks suddenly.

Robin's eyes blow wide, “How would I know?”

“Aren’t you the one who brags about being a genius?” Steve inquires accusingly.

“That’s because I am one, dingus,” she defends.

“So, be a genius. Help me, please?” Steve juts his lower lip out in a mock pout.

“Ugh please stop with the puppy dog eyes,” Robin complains, but ultimately concedes.

Steve claps his hands together, “Okay, so what’s the plan?”

“There is no plan. The next time she comes in, just be honest with her,” Robin says slowly, as if she were explaining it to a two year old.

Steve’s eyebrows furrow, “Be honest with her? Robin, I’ve been doing that.”

“No, you haven’t. Not really. Sure, you’ve been all googly eyed at her and doing what you can to get back in her good graces, but have you explicitly told her why you’re doing that?” She emphasizes.

Steve purses his lips, and Robin continues, “Exactly. She probably thinks it’s all for show. That you’re just being like that jerk from high school that threw out her love notes.”

“I should tell her now,” Steve panics a little, doesn’t like the fact that Robin’s put it in his head that you don’t take him seriously.

“You can’t ruin her date, Steve. Then she definitely won’t think you’re being sincere,” she stops him from moving around to counter to get to you.

Steve grumbles in annoyance, Nike clad shoes kicking gloomily at the checkered tiled floor.

“Don’t be a baby. You can wait, and next time you’ll tell her the truth and things will turn around,” Robin encourages.

But things would not turn around - in fact, they’d be getting worse.

“You’re so cute when you’re mad at me, Wheeler,” Steve grins, looking absurdly adorable in that uniform of his.

How can he just stand there, smiling sweetly, dressed up in a ridiculous costume and still look like a total babe?

Seeing him like that, it suddenly hits you that you’ve been chasing after him ever since you were in elementary school - took one look into those dazzling brown eyes that had flecks of green in them and knew he was always going to be your Steve.

You begged for his attention without an ounce of recognition from him since forever, and he decides years later to tell you he’s interested?

It makes your blood boil, because how dare he have the audacity to flirt with you now, when you’ve been obsessed with him your whole life.

“Don’t be mean, Steve,” you bite out, pushing off the counter and strolling back out the door that leads to the middle of Starcourt Mall.

You had stopped in after hearing from Max and El that Heather was missing - didn’t like the looks on their faces when they showed up at the community pool to see if she ever arrived at work.

They caught you right as you were about to change out of your swimsuit to clock out, and you told them you’d check her favorite spots at the mall while they continued their own investigation on Billy.

Except, you were met with Steve being annoyingly charming, and you were pissed at yourself that it was working.

“Wait,” Steve splutters, rounding the cash register and stopping in front of you - blocking you from leaving.

You fold your arms angrily, “What do you want from me, Harrington?”

He reaches up to scratch at the back of his neck, a sign that he’s growing anxious, “I’m not trying to be mean.”

You roll your eyes, “Okay, then what would you call toying with someone you don’t actually like? Because I call it being an asshole.”

“I do like you,” he tries to run his hands through his hair, realizing the sailor hat is perched on his head - rips the damn thing off and clutches it between his hands nervously.

You shake your head, finally understanding how he felt all those years ago, “You don’t even know me.”

Steve breathes deeply through his nose, “I wanna change that, if you’ll give me a chance.”

“It’s a little too late for that, Steve,” you say in defeat.

“Why?” He asks, tone laced with an urgency that takes you by surprise.

“Because everything changed when you dated Nancy. I don’t want to be yours anymore, and even if I did, it would never happen anyway,” you force out.

The crushed look on Steve’s face almost makes you cave. Almost makes you forgive him of his past mistakes, but your sister’s face flashes in your mind - making you hold your tongue.

“Never happen?” Steve whispers dejectedly.

“Don’t you get why there can never be an us? You were with my sister, and I couldn’t do that to her,” you state the obvious.

Steve tries to convince you otherwise, “Nance hasn’t been into me like that for a while.”

“It doesn’t matter. You can’t date your sister's ex-boyfriend,” you refute.

Steve scoffs, “Says who?”

“Says everyone! Now back off, Steve. Just let it go. Let me go,” you spit out harshly, but Steve’s not ready to back down yet.

He takes a step closer, and you feel your heart beating frantically when he says, “I can’t.”

“Steve, why can’t you just move on?” You grit out, frustration bubbling up inside of you, and the coil inside of him that’s been building finally breaks.

“Because you liked me when I didn't even like myself!” Steve shouts, the confession spilling from his lips shocking you.

Your eyes rake over his appearance cautiously, trying to grasp how honest he’s being with you, and those doe eyes of his are brimming with sincerity, laid out bare in front of you.

“I don’t understand,” you huff out.

Steve’s eyes closed briefly, gathering his thoughts, “That person you liked wasn’t real. He was a jerk, or what Dustin likes to say, a coward who hid behind the social construct of popularity.”

You shake your head, “I liked you before all that.”

“I know you did. Which is why it makes me sick to my stomach to know that I’m finally becoming the guy that I think I’ve always had the ability to be - the one you saw that I could be - and yet I’ve screwed it up so much with you that you don’t even want to know that version of myself,” his eyes grow glassy at the admission, chest rising and falling in rapid bursts.

Your lips part in disbelief at the words - nerves feeling like they’ve been lit on fire at the bombshell he’s just dropped. You barely have time to try to even think how you would formulate your response when Robin pokes her head through the swing door.

“So sorry to interrupt this lover’s quarrel,” she says sheepishly.

Steve pinches the bridge of his nose and grumbles, “God, Robin, did you have to phrase it like that?”

“We are not lovers,” you emphasize, flushing heatedly at the comment.

“Regardless, just thought you should know your voices are kinda echoing like, really loudly,” she glances around the shop - making you do the same, shrinking in on yourself as you realize how many people are ogling the two of you.

“Goodbye, Steve,” you say with finality, and he despondently moves to allow you to slip by him, a crestfallen expression coating his face.

It’s awful really, to know that he’s changed - have seen it in the way he’s stepped up for Dustin and the rest of your brothers friends, the way he’s protected all of you from the grotesque world of the Upside Down. The way he’s sweeter, kinder, more tender hearted and none of it even mattered because you would never have the chance to get to know that guy.

You try to tell yourself you don’t care - that it doesn’t hurt like hell walking away from the boy you once would have done anything to have the opportunity to be with.

As annoyed as you were with Steve for deciding to flip on you, you couldn’t stop thinking about him. You couldn’t stop thinking about how life wasn’t fair - of course he wanted you when you could no longer be with him.

You were moping at dinner, but you weren’t the only Wheeler kid doing so - in fact all of you except for Holly seemed to be in a pissy mood.

Nancy was frustrated with Jonathan and the people she worked for, Mike was livid at Hopper and devastated over El dumping him, and you were lost in your thoughts about Steve.

“Real lively crew here tonight,” Ted grumbles, and it makes you roll your eyes because your father never fails to make an unnecessary comment.

Your mother asks in genuine concern, “Does anyone have anything they need to share?”

“None of us want to talk about our feelings right now, Mom,” Mike snaps at her.

Your mother looks wounded by the comment, which makes you more upset.

“Don’t listen to him, Mom. He’s just in a bad mood because Jane broke up with him,” you share, careful to use El’s birth name in front of your parents.

If looks could kill, you’d be dead at the sneer Mike is sending your way, “I’m glad my misery means nothing to you.”

“You’re fourteen years old. You’ll get over it, it’s not like it’s the end of the world,” you retort, fed up with his pouting.

“That’s rich coming from someone who’s never even had a boyfriend,” he spews.

The jab aches, because you were a hopeless romantic at heart - it’s why it was aggravating that you’d spent so much time longing for a guy who never really saw you.

“Michael,” Karen chides, sending him a pointed look.

He refuses to back down, “No, really. It’s not like she gets it at all, and it’s her own fault.”

Your father surprisingly jumps in for once and mumbles, “Just eat your dinner, Michael.”

While the sentiment was great, your father has never been good about getting his children to actually listen to him.

“She’s just bitter that she's been alone her whole life because she’s too hung up on St-,” he starts, but you hastily cut him off.

“Mike, don’t,” you seethe, warning look in your eyes.

The biggest invasion of privacy a brother could do was read their sister’s diary, which Mike did as a snot nosed twelve year old two years ago - finding out about the crush you’d been harboring on Steve.

You confronted him furiously about it, and he was still sweet enough back then to promise not to tell anyone. But now he was a moody teenager, and you pushed him over the edge tonight - making him decide to no longer hold onto the secret.

“Oh, I’m sorry, did you not want them knowing you’re in love with Steve Harrington?” Mike smirks evilly, victory tasting sweet on his tongue.

Nancy frowns, “What are you talking about?”

“I’m not in love with him,” you blurt out, panic clawing at your chest.

“Close enough,” Mike shrugs.

Nancy’s eyebrows are drawn in, looking at you in disbelief, “Is he serious?”

“No,” you reply, kicking Mike under the table, “he’s just being a little jerk.”

“I might be a jerk, but I’m definitely not a liar,” he kicks you back, “Go on Nance, ask her how she’s been pining after him since she was my age.”

“Wait,” she shakes her head, “but that means when I was seeing him, you, what? Liked him?”

“I, uh, I don’t,” you trail off, red hot heat flaring under your skin.

You expect your sister to be looking at you in fury, but instead she just looks a little sad, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

You really don’t want to have this conversation in front of your parents - sliding out of your chair, you mumble an excuse about not being hungry before booking it up the stairs to your bedroom.

Your mother calls out your name, and you hear the padding up footsteps up the stairs - instinctively knowing their Nancy’s.

“Hey, wait, please,” she begs and catches the door before you’re able to slam it shut.

“Leave me alone, Nance,” you plead.

She continues pushing at the door, “Just let me in.”

You grip the door tightly, but eventually decide to open it up - allowing her access into your room. She makes her way in and perches herself on the end of your bed, patting the space next to her, and you wait for her to tell you what a horrible person you are for wanting to be with her ex.

“You know he stares obsessively at you,” Nancy smiles knowingly.

You don’t expect that remark, “I’m sorry?”

“Steve, he stares at you when you’re not looking,” she repeats herself.

“He does?” You inquire, curiosity flooding over you.

She nods, “Everyone sees it. He’s totally captivated by you.”

“You think?” You ask meekly.

“I know. And, if you wanted to act on any of your own feelings that you might have, I’d be perfectly okay with that,” she insists.

“But, I thought you loved him?” You ask warily.

“I thought I loved him too, but then Jonathan happened, and I knew the difference between infatuation and love,” she shares delicately, like she doesn’t want to assume your feelings for Steve.

But that word - infatuation, it lingers, settling in the cavity of your chest.

“I think it’s always just been infatuation for me too,” you reveal, subdued at finally understanding the feeling you’ve always had for Steve.

Nancy places a small hand on your thigh in comfort, “Maybe. But, you won’t know if it’s just that or something more unless you try.”

You can feel the prick of tears behind your eyelids, “I don’t know if I can trust him.”

She sighs in agreement, leaning in as if she were sharing a secret, “And you won’t know, unless you give him the opportunity to prove himself.”

Little did you know, that opportunity would come faster than you expected it too.

When Dustin Hnederson saw your car driving past him on your way to the pool the next day, he manically peddled his bike after you, chasing you down with arms flailing in the air.

You really didn’t want to pull over, because you knew if you did then you’d most likely be promptly thrown into another scheme of dealing with the Upside Down bullshit - and like the sucker you were, you stopped the car and found yourself not dealing with monsters, but with Russian soldiers, scientists, and the horrific underground facility they’d developed.

You had set aside your weapons of offense with Steve, deciding to listen to your sister - providing him with the chance to prove himself, but you didn’t realize that would take form in finding him bruised and battered - tied up to a cold metal chair with Robin.

After shuttling the two of them back into the storeroom that doubled as an elevator, you crouch in front of Steve to inspect the damage.

“Holy shit, Steve,” you breathe out in concern, eyes raking over his appearance.

While it’s obvious he’s been brutally beaten, he’s got the widest grin covering his face, laughter slipping past his lips continuously.

You grab gently at his face, turning it left and right to look at the wreckage. A deep cut trails the edge of his lower lip, almost reaching his chin, and his left eye is nearly swollen shut - dark purple splotches already spreading along with a fiery scarlet ring from the impact of the hits he’d taken. Blood is splattered along his chin from the cut on his mouth and trails of it leaks from his nose.

His head lolls between your hands, and when he makes eye contact with you, the smile on his face somehow grows larger - making the cut by his lip bloom with more of the crimson liquid.

“Hey, it’s you, hi gorgeous,” Steve giggles, reaching up to brush his hand along your jawbone.

Your breath hitches at the feel of his fingers tracing your skin, “Steve, what happened?”

“Evil Russians,” he groans at the memory, before snapping back to his loopy state.

He leans forward, nearly tipping over into you and your hands snatch out to steady his shoulders. He opens his mouth like he’s about to say something, but instead he purses his lips, pupils dilated at his stares at you.

“You’re so pretty,” he’s giggling again, and your eyes flick to Robin to see her in a similar state.

You swallow harshly, realizing they’re definitely high on something with the way their eyes are rimmed red. You try to let go of the ache that Steve’s not really coherent - words lacking any real meaning to them.

“What’s wrong with them?” Dustin asks frantically.

“They seem drunk,” Erica replies.

“Why would they be drunk?” Dustin snaps at her.

“They’re most likely drugged,” you chime in, pressing the back of your hand against Steve’s forehead, feeling how it’s burning up.

Steve instantly takes advantage of the closeness and grabs at your hand - tugging you towards him.

“It’s not fair,” he slurs, looking at you from under those thick eyelashes of his.

You give in, “What’s not fair?”

“You. Have I told you how pretty you are?” he taps your nose playfully, eyes shifting to your lips before continuing, “I’m like, head over heels for you and you don’t want me anymore.”

You choke on air, “You're drugged, Steve.”

“Give me a chance, c’mon please?” he whines, elongating the syllables, ignoring your previous observations.

Steve beams cheekily at you - trying to persuade you, and it would be incredibly endearing if he wasn’t absolutely tearing apart your heart because it’s undeniable that he’s not thinking straight with the drugs coursing through his system.

“Could treat you so good if you let me, promise,” he’s practically begging now, on his knees in front of you.

“Just say yes so we can get out of here,” Dustin hisses at you.

Steve nods excitedly at the support, “Kid’s got a good idea for once.”

The irritated look on Dustin’s face makes you laugh under your breath, and Steve mistakes it for willingness.

“You’ll go out with me?” He elates, and under the fluorescents highlighting his features you can no longer deny the underlying truth that you never truly flipped.

You had never really hated him, which a small part of you always knew - had just been devastated by his rejection.

“Let’s talk when your head’s a bit clearer, okay?” You prompt.

You can’t help the smile that creeps over you at seeing him hum delightedly in agreement, helping him stand to his feet - getting ready to face whatever comes next.

In the aftermath of the battle, the exhaustion had settled deep into your bones - allowing yourself some respite, leaning against Steve in the back of one of the ambulances that had shown up.

The fogginess has been gone since he threw up all the drugs in his system, but the insanity of the last few hours didn’t allow you the chance to talk to him.

“You work fast,” Nancy teases softly, coming to a stop in front of the two of you.

“Nance, wait,” you start, pulling away from Steve - knowing she’s about to accidentally reveal your conversation with her.

“You better take care of her heart, Harrington,” she gives him a serious look, and Steve’s eyebrows pull taught - confusion clouding his features.

“What?” he asks.

“If you’re going to date my sister, then you-,” Nancy rambles, before slowly trailing off as you wave your hands in a motion to get her to stop.

She’s already said enough though, and realization dawns across Steve’s face as Nancy apologizes profusely to you. She awkwardly dismisses herself, hightailing it back to Jonathan - throwing another apologetic look over her shoulder at you.

You drop your head into your hands as embarrassment washes over you at the revelation, and Steve’s quiet next to you, processing the information your sister just dished out.

“It was truth serum, by the way,” Steve finally murmurs, causing you to glance at him quickly.

“Wait, what?” You inquire nervously.

“The shit they injected Robin and I with. It was to get us to spill whatever bullshit intel they thought we had,” he explains lethargically, eyes growing heavy at the weight of the night.

“But you said,” you don’t finish your sentence, mind racing at the pieces clicking together for what that meant if he was telling the truth.

“I know what I said. And I meant it, all of it. I, uh, I’ve noticed you, for a long time now. And I’m so sorry I’m years late, but if you let me, I’d really like to show you that I could be who you thought I once was,” his eyes drop to his lap, picking at his nails uneasily.

You don’t respond - too in disbelief that this is now the third time in the last couple of days that Steve Harrington has confessed to having feelings for you. Your pause causes a bundle of uncertainty to curl inside of him.

“But I understand if, uh, you wanna be with someone else. That guy you were with the other day seemed cool,” he says timidly.

“He was,” you reply, and Steve’s head hangs with dread - expecting you to shut him down once and for all.

“But he wasn’t you,” you utter honestly.

“Really?” He asks, needing to double check that he’s heard you correctly.

“God, Steve, I've wanted you for so long. It’s always been you, and it’s been overwhelming knowing that you finally feel the same,” you glance up at him, and hesitantly slip your hand over his.

Steve tentatively leans his forehead against yours, “I’m so sorry, gorgeous. You have no idea how much I regret not letting you in.”

“It’s oka-,” you start, but his hands come up to cup your neck, fingers splaying out tenderly against your skin.

“It’s not. I’m an idiot, and I’ll do whatever it takes to make up for it. Wanna spend as long as you’ll let me getting to know you better,” he breathes out.

Your nose nudges his gently, “I guess everything has changed, huh?”

He laughs, thumb coming up to stroke fondly at your bottom lip, “Yeah, and a lot of lost time I gotta make up for.”

“This is a good start,” you say before pressing a feather light kiss to the outer corner of his injured eye.

Steve makes a noise of content at the feeling of your lips there, and it spurs you on to leave behind a trail of kisses from his cheekbone to the base of his jaw - finishing with a quick press to the side of his mouth, careful not to touch the torn flesh.