like it tends to do — steve harrington
⋆ ˚｡⋆ pairing: steve harrington x reader (no specific pronouns used!)
⋆ ˚｡⋆ summary: after four years of being beat up, drugged, and almost killed too many times to count, steve suffers from severe headaches and minor hearing loss - aka steve headcanons
⋆ ˚｡⋆ warnings: none! just not proofread sorry
⋆ ˚｡⋆ a/n: @bartxnhood @keerysbrowneyes pspspspsp get over here
masterlist !
. . . it happened on the saturday after the fourth of july fiasco of 1985. steve harrington woke up that morning, the sun partially blinding him from behind his faded dark blue curtains. he rolled over, seeing the much too early time of day, and argued internally about getting up and being productive, or sleeping for at least another hour.
steve chose the latter, and after his glorious hour of added sleep, went downstairs to find some sort of food in his almost empty kitchen.
selecting a bowl of probably stale honeycomb cereal, he sat on his couch and turned on the tv.
however, when going to bed last night, he didn't remember turning the tv volume down beforehand. so why was it so low all of a sudden?
he turned it up, not reading the numbers going up the tv on the side, still confused how he can barely hear it.
steve rubbed both his ears, maybe he was still tired, he thought. he turned it up again, his eyes widening slightly as he noticed the volume level of the tv was now at forty-nine, when he used to be able to hear it perfectly at fiften, maybe sixteen.
at the newfound information, he shot up from his spot on the couch, and called you.
. . . it took both you and steve about a month to get used to his new found dilemma; hearing loss.
steve isn't surprised it's happened, considering all he's been through lately. but he's surprised it's hit him this quick, quite literally over night.
you make sure to talk a little louder when around steve now.
you always stand on the side of his good ear, and are happy to repeat anything when in a large group of people.
. . . steve has become quite a good lip reader. robin was the first to notice the change, a little confused why steve was suddenly looking at everyone's lips in a conversation.
after robin, the group slowly began to catch on. yet, no one was the first to announce it.
"do you think they all know?" steve asks while watching tv one night. his hearing has gotten slightly better, so now the tv volume settles around twenty-eight.
"know what steve?" you ask, genuinely curious.
"about my hearing. do you think the whole group has finally noticed?" you can hear the concern laced in his words. the shakiness indicating steve is starting to think he's becoming a burden, with everyone having to talk either louder or slower. all for him to understand simple sentences.
you easily shrug, "so what if they noticed? they're all your friends. a little thing like that isn't going to deter them away from you steve. they've all just adapted, exactly like we have." you lean over and kiss him on the cheek. he calms at your words, and action.
. . . as soon as steve, and everyone around him, had seemed to get used to his fractional hearing, another misfortune showed up on steve's door.
it started out as any regular shift at family video; steve stuttering in almost late due to the traffic near the high school, keith no where to be found (even though he's acclaimed to be the manager), and robin already yapping steve's good ear off in the first ten minutes of his time inside the dimly lit building.
it hits steve suddenly, as robin is going on and on about her upcoming date with vickie, the always dim lights seem to start pulsating to steve. they become entirely too bright, and robin's words seem to feel like their punching steve in the head. each syllable making his head dizzier than before.
"robin," he triee to get her to pause the conversation, yet the flustered girl keeps rambling.
"robin!" steve interjects, but soon regrets it as his own voice seems to make his pounding head worse. "please, i love you but if you keep talking, you won't make it to the date tonight."
and with that, steve takes the movie cart him and robin were distributing all the way to the other end of the store. he leaves a stunned robin in his place, but he simply can't care as his head feels as if it'll fall off his neck at any given moment.
. . . a week passes, and steve has cataloged on his calander. a tiny red dot drawn in the corner of five out of the past seven days. five days with nonstop headaches, and only two days of peace.
he sighs, already getting annoyed by the oncoming headache he can feel bloomomg in the back of his head.
it's not like steve never got headaches before. none of them felt like these though. sometimes the pain was all around his head, as if someone put a tight rubberband spanning from his forehead all the way to the other side.
others he felt behind his eyes, or by his temples, or simply on the top of his head.
by week two he's had enough. he began sifting through every drug store in hawkins for anything to relieve his worsening headaches.
he was lucky for a few days after finding something at the big buy a few minutes away from his house. however his body seemed to become immune to the medicine, as his headaches came back heavier and quicker.
. . . finally, you have a day off of work. you feel like you've been living at this small record store for weeks. you did love it. the smell, a record playing in the background while you helped customers find the perfect cassette player, and the easy small talk while standing behind the register. you truly love it, but you don't think you can go another minute of someone asking if you have abba's new release.
you don't bother going to your own home, instead driving the familiar path to steve's.
you don't even worry about knocking on the large wooden doors anymore. you've been over plenty of times that steve really can't be surprised when you walk through the foyer.
you set your belongings down in the kitchen, and make your way to the stairs, however something in the living room catches your eye.
the tv is on, and you see a figure laying on the couch. you know it's steve, yet it's odd to see him down here. usually he's up in his room when he's not at work or being bugged by dustin, or any member of the party.
"steve? are you okay?" you call out, but get no response back. you walk closer to the couch, and your heart practically breaks at the sight in front of you.
steve's laying on his couch, with his head propped up against one of the biggest pillows you think he has, as he's holding an ice pack to the other side of his head. the tv is on in front of him, yet no audio is making it's way through the living room.
you crouch down in front of him, making him look up towards you. the action resulting in steve wincing slightly at the new position.
"oh, hey honey," he barely whispers.
you're not dumb. you can take a wild guess at why steve seems to be miserable with pillows and an ice pack stuck to his head.
"headache?" you ask in a hushed voice, while staring to run your fingers through his hair. steve closes his eyes at the feeling after nodding.
he leans into your touch, as you rub softly over his scalp and back through his roots. you repeat the action a few times.
"do you want to go lay down in bed? i bet that'll be more comfortable than the couch," you offer, smiling as steve nods in response.
you help him up, walking behind him up the stairs while he continues holding the ice pack to his throbbing skull.
he immediately finds his bed once you're upstairs and in his room. you sigh, wishing there was something you could do to take his pain away.
you sit beside him silently, and resume running your hands through his brown locks. he once again leans into your touch.
in the span of the next minute, steve slowly makes his way into your lap. his head resting over your thighs, still holding the ice pack to the aching area.
"does the ice pack help?" you wonder.
steve only nods. you take a mental note, now going to be sure to keep multiple ice packs in steve's freezer as well as your own.
so steve lays there contently. the combination of the ice, the warmth of your thighs, the comfort of your fingers and the smoothness of the comforter under him slowly lulls him to sleep.
. . . steve gets used to the headaches now. he always carries some pain killers in his bag or keeps a bottle in tbe glovebox of his car. you do the exact same, never knowing when he might need one. dustin's even picked up on the small notion.
if things get too loud for steve, it's become a second nature of yours to notice just as fast as steve starts feeling that fuzzy pounding behind his eyes.
you two will sit in a quiet hallway of the squawk. you'll hold his hands gently while he begins breathing deeply beside you. you make sure to bring medicine and a water bottle with you, making sure he drinks at least half of it.
you don't know how long you sit there in silence, but you don't mind. really, you don't. you'll do whatever it takes to help steve with his headaches.
